“The unexamined life is not worth living.” —Socrates
Even 10 years later, I easily consider it my worst day at work ever.
The exact day was in the middle of December and I was working at a church in Wisconsin. At some point, under my watch, a snowball fight broke out among 100 middle school students. This would be fine—and even expected in Wisconsin—except the snowball fight was taking place inside the church.
Piles of snow were being grabbed from the nearest exit, rounded into slushy, lopsided spheres, and thrown across the room toward unsuspecting students on the other side. In response, as you might guess, the snowballs were promptly thrown back at even greater speeds.
In my defense, it escalated quickly.
But my boss, who happened to wander past the room and witness the melee, didn’t seem to care. His only words displayed little understanding, “Clean this up. And stop by my office first thing in the morning.”
My heart sunk. This was not going to end well.
Fortunately, this is not a story about getting fired. And unfortunately, it is also not a story about challenging authority, sticking it to ‘the man,’ or even the rebelliousness of youth. This is a story about avoiding escape, remaining in the moment, and the painful joy of choosing to journey inward.
After cleaning up snow and water and mud off walls and carpeting, I got in my car to drive home. And suddenly remembered what would meet me when I walked in the back door: silence.
You see, back at home, I was in the middle of a 30-day No Television experiment—no entertainment from screens of any kind. No cable, no sports, no movies, no video games—not on television, computers, tablets, or phones.
And for maybe the first time in my life, I was forced to sit in silence with my own self rather than turn to entertainment as an escape from my troubles.
With no TV to turn on, I sat alone on my couch, in a dark living room, rewinding the events of the evening. I saw the look on my boss’s face peering into the room. I imagined all the possible outcomes of tomorrow’s meeting. I ran through the worst-case scenarios of what could have happened during the snowball fight. And I sat alone in the weight of the moment.
Then, I began a journey inward— an incredibly difficult journey of assessing my own heart and mind and soul in response to the evening.
Why did I allow a snowball fight to happen in the first place? Was I that desperate to be liked by middle schoolers that I would allow them to do whatever they wanted?
Why was I so afraid of tomorrow morning? Being fired was almost certainly not on the table. Was my identity so wrapped up in my reputation at work that this stain could literally paralyze me to my couch in an empty room? Does this seem healthy?
Was I so desperate for praise from others that I worried about my coworkers finding out? Was my leadership potential being questioned? Was my personal need for affirmation so significant that nothing else mattered at this moment in time?
I did not like what I saw. It was hard to be completely honest with myself in that moment. But it was important and worth ever hard-fought moment of not giving in to the urge to turn away and escape. I was intimately introduced to my ugliest motivations and fears.
It can indeed be a humbling experience to search our hearts, to be reminded of their depravity, and have our true motivations exposed to us.
I think that is why so often we choose to escape instead. We turn on the television, a video game, Facebook, or Pinterest. We turn to alcohol, tobacco, or other substances. We eat, we run, we shop, we go back to work, or we turn to unhealthy relationships.
But when we escape our present circumstance too quickly, we miss the difficult joy of looking inward. We lose opportunity to discover the motivations behind our pride, jealousy, anger, loneliness, narcissism, or selfish pursuits.
Is the discovery of these motivations all it takes to overcome them? Absolutely not. But slowing down long enough to recognize them is almost always the first step.
Image: Kyle Person
Sandra Pawula says
This is such a moving story, Joshua! I’m so inspired you had the courage to look inside. I agree, recognizing our pain our confused motivations is the place to start. We’re not alone. Most of this tick this way. So we don’t have to be hard on ourselves, we’ can just begin to move toward change.
Sally Thomas says
Very much liked this article. I am reminded of the days when my children got too caught up, escaping into the TV or losing connection with each other and started fighting. The TV miraculously “broke” for a week or two, and I told my children that I didn’t have the money to fix it (totally believable story at the time.) Funny how, given the right atmosphere, attention and intention, everything tends to “iron itself out.”
Christine@awellstockedlife says
We have periods of time where our children are not allowed media (at all) and it is hard the first day, but by the end of the week–they aren’t quarreling but are cooperating…the TV needs to die (for the most part), but we are a house slightly divided on this issue. I agree kids escape just as adults…how sad:(
Queen Mary says
Once again I am odd woman out. I wonder if I am perhaps one of your older readers. The over examined life is a curse. My life story is one of self-condemnation for mistakes of much less consequence than a snowball fight; and I have always wished I could escape with mere alcohol or television or a bad relationship, but alas, none of these hold any attraction for me. I have never been able to escape — my sin is rather, not trusting in God’s love and forgiveness! Exaggerating every single criticism, especially those unearned — earned criticism, constructive criticism is a lark!
Karin says
Excelelnt article.
Though not your main point … the world would be a different place if more people had periods of fasting from tv.
Karla McEvoy says
Wow! It must have been difficult to stay in the moment with all those thoughts and feelings when you got home. Thanks for sharing this experience.
joan says
excellent article.
please don’t tell us what happened the next morning. let us stay in the moment, reflecting, not following a story.
thanks.
Cheri Gregory says
Adding my “me, too!” – to your experience of not escaping and to those who consider this your best post yet.
Suzanne says
I also thoroughly enjoyed this story, but simply must hear what happened at the meeting with your boss!
joshua becker says
Thanks for asking. My boss, Tom, was far more gracious and understanding than he needed to be.
Renee Clark says
Great article. Perfect timing for my life.
cathy david says
thank you, thank you, thank you