Chapter One
The Courage to Be Yourself Discovering the truth about ourselves is a lifetime's work, but it's worth the effort.
Some days, doing "the best we can" may still fall short of what we would like to be able to do, but life isn't perfect-on any front-and doing what we can with what we have is the most we should expect of ourselves or anyone else.
Confronting our feelings and giving them appropriate expression always takes strength, not weakness. It takes strength to acknowledge our anger, and sometimes more strength yet to curb the aggressive urges anger may bring and to channel them into nonviolent outlets. It takes strength to face our sadness and to grieve and to let our grief and our anger flow in tears when they need to. It takes strength to talk about our feelings and to reach out for help and comfort when we need it.
FROM THE SONG The Truth Will Make Me Free What if I were very, very sad And all I did was smile? I wonder after awhile What might become of my sadness? What if I were very, very angry And all I did was sit And never think about it? What might become of my anger? Where would they go, And what would they do, If I couldn't let them out? Maybe I'd fall, maybe get sick Or doubt. But what if I could know the truth And say just how I feel? I think I'd learn a lot that's real About freedom.
Music is the one art we all have inside. We may not be able to play an instrument, but we can sing along or clap or tap our feet. Have you ever seen a baby bouncing up and down in the crib in time to some music? When you think of it, some of that baby's first messages from his or her parents may have been lullabies, or at least the music of their speaking voices. All of us have had the experience of hearing a tune from childhood and having that melody evoke a memory or a feeling. The music we hear early on tends to stay with us all our lives.
Who you are inside is what helps you make and do everything in life.
There's no "should" or "should not" when it comes to having feelings. They're part of who we are and their origins are beyond our control. When we can believe that, we may find it easier to make constructive choices about what to do with those feelings.
Whatever we choose to imagine can be as private as we want it to be. Nobody knows what you're thinking or feeling unless you share it.
How many times have you noticed that it's the little quiet moments in the midst of life that seem to give the rest extra-special meaning?
There's a nurturing element to all human beings, whenever they themselves have been nurtured, and it's going to be expressed one way or another.
When my mother or my grandmother tried to keep me from climbing too high, my grandfather would say, "Let the kid walk on the wall. He's got to learn to do things for himself." I loved my grandfather for trusting me so much. His name was Fred McFeely. No wonder I included a lively, elderly delivery man in our television "neighborhood" whom we named "Mr. McFeely."
Part of the problem with the word disabilities is that it immediately suggests an inability to see or hear or walk or do other things that many of us take for granted. But what of people who can't feel? Or talk about their feelings? Or manage their feelings in constructive ways? What of people who aren't able to form close and strong relationships? And people who cannot find fulfillment in their lives, or those who have lost hope, who live in disappointment and bitterness and find in life no joy, no love? These, it seems to me, are the real disabilities.
It's not the honors and the prizes and the fancy outsides of life that ultimately nourish our souls. It's the knowing that we can be trusted, that we never have to fear the truth, that the bedrock of our very being is firm.
All our lives, we rework the things from our childhood, like feeling good about ourselves, managing our angry feelings, being able to say good-bye to people we love.
In order to express our sense of reality, we must use some kind of symbol: words or notes or shades of paint or television pictures or sculpted forms. None of those symbols or images can ever completely satisfy us because they can never be any more than what they are-a fragment of a reflection of what we feel reality to be.
I remember after my grandfather's death, seeing Dad in the hall with tears streaming down his face. I don't think I had ever seen him cry before. I'm glad I did see him. It helped me know that it was okay for men to cry. Many years later, when my father himself died, I cried: and way down deep I knew he would have said it was all right.
It isn't only famous movie stars who want to be alone. Whenever I hear someone speak of privacy, I find myself thinking once again how real and deep the need for such times is for all human beings ... at all ages.
Solitude is different from loneliness, and it doesn't have to be a lonely kind of thing.
You rarely have time for everything you want in this life, so you need to make choices. And hopefully your choices can come from a deep sense of who you are.
Most of us, I believe, admire strength. It's something we tend to respect in others, desire for ourselves, and wish for our children. Sometimes, though, I wonder if we confuse strength with other words-like aggression and even violence. Real strength is neither male nor female; but it is, quite simply, one of the finest characteristics that any human being can possess.
All life events are formative. All contribute to what we become, year by year, as we go on growing. As my friend the poet Kenneth Koch once said, "You aren't just the age you are. You are all the ages you ever have been!"
The values we care about the deepest, and the movements within society that support those values, command our love. When those things that we care about so deeply become endangered, we become enraged. And what a healthy thing that is! Without it, we would never stand up and speak out for what we believe.
I've often hesitated in beginning a project because I've thought, "It'll never turn out to be even remotely like the good idea I have as I start." I could just "feel" how good it could be. But I decided that, for the present, I would create the best way I know how and accept the ambiguities.
When I think of Robert Frost's poems, like "The Road Not Taken," I feel the support of someone who is on my side, who understands what life's choices are like, someone who says, "I've been there, and it's okay to go on."
I believe it's a fact of life that what we have is less important than what we make out of what we have. The same holds true for families: It's not how many people there are in a family that counts, but rather the feelings among the people who are there.
I'm proud of you for the times you came in second, or third, or fourth, but what you did was the best you had ever done.
Often when you think you're at the end of something, you're at the beginning of something else. I've felt that many times. My hope for all of us is that "the miles we go before we sleep" will be filled with all the feelings that come from deep caring-delight, sadness, joy, wisdom-and that in all the endings of our life, we will be able to see the new beginnings.
When I was a boy I used to think that strong meant having big muscles, great physical power; but the longer I live, the more I realize that real strength has much more to do with what is not seen. Real strength has to do with helping others.
The thing I remember best about successful people I've met all through the years is their obvious delight in what they're doing ... and it seems to have very little to do with worldly success. They lust love what they're doing, and they love it in front of others.
I must be an emotional archaeologist because I keep looking for the roots of things, particularly the roots of behavior and why I feel certain ways about certain things.
FROM THE SONG The Clown in Me Sometimes I feel when I'm afraid That I will never make the grade So I pretend I'm someone else And show the world my other self. I'm not quite sure of me, you see When I have to make a clown of me. A clown, a clown I think I'll be a clown. I think I'll make the people laugh And laugh all over town. A clown, That's what I'll be, a clown. Sometimes I feel all good inside And haven't got a thing to hide. My friends all tell me I'm the best; They think I'm better than the rest. It's times like this I act myself And I let the clown stay on the shelf. Myself, myself I think I'll be myself. I think I'll let the people see The comfortable inside of me. Myself, I'll be myself. It's only when I feel let down I might be scared into a clown. But, he can be himself When I can be myself, myself. I think I'll be myself. Little by little we human beings are confronted with situations that give us more and more clues that we aren't perfect.
The child is in me still ... and sometimes not so still.
Excerpted from The World According to Mister Rogers by FRED ROGERS Copyright © 2003 by Family Communications, Inc.. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
