“Bobby, you’re a cow.”
We had been given one, final assignment at the end of our summer-long Army chaplaincy internship at the Brooke Army Medical Center in San Antonio, TX.
The assignment was simple: What animal characterizes each of your peers?
Our cohort of six was given a week to think long and hard about how we really understood one another after spending intense hours of work and reflection together.
(The cohort, plus our Supervisor/Program Director)
The Director, too, would give each of us an animal of choice.
When the day came around I dished out my animals.
“A Golden Retriever,” I smiled toward Phil who had such a warm, eager spirit about him.
“A horse!” I declared to John who had become the leader of our cohort.
“A dolphin,” I nodded toward Jim whose playfulness and kindness were instrumental to our cohort’s sense of connection.
Likewise, my peers offered desirable animal options for one another. Our Director, however, was not going to let us settle with easy affirmations. He wanted to leave each of us with something to think about.
“Bobby, you’re a cow. You chew, and you chew, and you chew. And then you usually spit out something pretty alright.” Our Director was a high-ranking chaplain, but he never lost his farm-boy roots. He knew cows, and he knew spit.
“Sir…” I hesitated. I knew I was opening myself for something that might be difficult to hear.
”Cows seem… harmless. Maybe that’s a good thing. But, maybe that’s a critique, too?”
He smiled. “Bobby, you spit out some good stuff…but sometimes you’re too nice. Sometimes you fade into the background and just keep ‘the peace’ even if there’s not really a peace.”
Cow: Good chewer. Good spitter. Harmlessly quiet.
(The cohort in-process. I’m definitely in classic chewing mode.)
Every one of us receives thoughtful feedback from time to time.
It may come by way of a…
formal review.
friend who can be honest.
social media response or online review.
parent or a child.
The question is: how do we receive it? Particularly if there is an aspect of critique…do we hear it as…
Fait accompli or good input for a next, stronger step forward?
“You are a people-pleaser who has no backbone - and that’s that?” or “You’re prone to be too quiet about things that matter… now next time risk a little more spit”?
Prophesy or Process?
A recent episode on the Hidden Brain podcast unpacks a recent experiment at Stanford University where researchers recruited people to study their genetic codes. As part of the study, the researchers recorded the oxygen output of participants during various exercises. They also took the participants’ blood samples.
A week later, the researchers had everyone do the same exercises except….one group of participants were told (individually) that it had been discovered that they had within them a unique gene. This particular gene made them prone toward tiredness and weight gain, even when they were diligent in exercising.
In truth, none of the participants had this rare gene, and they were later told the truth. In the meantime, however, the news had a significant effect on them. When the people who now thought they were less capable of staying fit and energized did the same exercises as they had done one week prior, they recorded notably decreased oxygen outputs and fitness levels.1
Point being: what we believe about ourselves is fundamental to how we do life.
If we are told the world is falling apart…
The economy is tanking…
Our health, intelligence, decisions-making etc needs work…
Perhaps there is a worthwhile critique somewhere in all of that.
Things to be aware of.
Care about.
Address.
Absolutely.
But if we take the Big News we read online or the Little News we get in our career or personal life as settled prophesy…we’ve doomed ourselves from the get-go.
Woe is me! Woe is us!
I can’t change! We can't change!
We cry out with all the reasons nothing will work as we find ourselves ever-slowed by the basic belief that The Worst is written in stone.
And sadly, many these days feel that cynical, helpless pull.
Fortunately, it’s not true.
Slowly, surely, and truly I have risked more spit since I was called a cow. I’ve even made horse-like strides at times!
True, sometimes I still withhold spit that I shouldn’t. I’m still processing my cow truth. But goodness - it’s hardly defining. And my awareness of it has allowed for growth that would not have happened otherwise.
What about you? Any animal designations ever thrown your way? Any come to mind for yourself? And what difference does it make to consider that animal…
prophesy (that animal IS who you are)
vs
process (That animal is PART of who you are and you can change, are changing, and will yet change)?
I confess, I have not heard anyone call me a cow in quite some time, but I did get another one thrown my way recently: snail.
It came from my six-year-old because he loves the way I read one of his favorite books with an earnest-but-terrible French accent.
(It’s about a French snail, and if you have a child at home and have yet to read it, you should stop reading this post immediately and purchase the book or check it out at the library. It’s that good. Maybe for them. Definitely for you.)
And honestly, I take snail it as a compliment.
It’s my six-year-old’s way of appreciating that I am slowing down for him. And I think he can sense how that runs against the grain of my oft-busy way of being.
Cow yesterday.
Snail today.
What’s next? I don’t know… (though I welcome if you have an idea :))
I am confident of this, though:
None of these are prophesy. It’s all process.
And because of that, growth, possibility, and hope remain abundant.
I had a physical therapist once tell me,“20% of what I do is physical therapy. 80% is psychology. I am constantly looking for ways to motivate my clients because the bottom line is this: if people believe they can’t get better, they won’t. If they believe they can, they will.”
At The Basic School (entry level training for brand new Marine 2ndLts) we are organized into platoons of about 30 peers. At various points we receive peer evaluations (affectionately called spear evals). Imagine 30 very ambitious, Type-A, moto Marine officers who are competing with each other for class rank (and therefore choice of MOS). Those peers are set to evaluating each other with every bit of evaluation that they can muster. It can be stark. One of those evals was a one word descriptor of you (from a broad menu of adjectives) from every member of the platoon. I received lots of Aggressives. A lot of Arrogants. A few Pompouses. And some other not very nice words. That was some rough news for me. I was not popular at The Basic School and may have misplayed my hand in a desire to seem competitive and to standout.
There was one particular fellow lieutenant in my platoon who was quite popular. I envied him and was jealous. A few months later he and I ended up going to artillery school together and became quite close. He told me a few weeks into artillery school that he had hated me at The Basic School: he thought I was the biggest ass on the planet. It was only when we got to know each other at artillery school and when I dropped the chip from my shoulder that he decided that I was okay. It is always interesting to think of yourself one way and to see a reflection that you don’t recognize shine back at you. From that I learned to calm down and try not take myself so seriously. It was a priceless lesson.
By the way, that popular lieutenant is now a lieutenant colonel and still my best friend.
Great story, Bobby. You always have a way of tickling my brain.
An interesting way of looking at human nature! I think people can change/ evolve as they age and gain education and experience. I know that I always had the desire for more education/ learning and to travel to as many countries as possible, while many other friends could care less. I could probably be several different animals over my 87 years.