Dare to Dare

Posted on August 18, 2017 by Andrew Bustamante

An article for Pen-Chant Magazine and the Malayalee Association of Tampa.

Where did daring go? Whether a childhood game (‘I double dog dare you!’) or the character trait of an adventurous spirit, daring used to be something that people valued.

Today, daring is something many of us avoid in the hope that someone else will take the risk. Instead of one child daring another to climb a tree outside, both children sit indoors entertained by their parent’s tablet. Instead of one adolescent daring to stand up to a bully, that same adolescent bottles their frustration and seeks comfort in a virtual gaming world. Instead of daring to seek fulfilling work, career professionals drown dissatisfying work-lives in reality TV, social media memes and even substance abuse. It is important to remember that risk, rather than compliance, is what brings reward.

Our history and our future are written by those who dare to dare; the daring few who challenge the status quo with new ideas that carry the power to change paradigms. Civil rights, women’s suffrage, child labor laws and international human rights are incredible achievements owed to those who dared to challenge the norm at a time when no one else would. Personal computers, cellular phones, mobile internet and virtual reality exist today because of those who dared to believe science fiction could be made real.

I am a parent. And like many parents, I feel the pressure to protect and support my children. I feel a responsibility to mold them into contributing members of society. But the truth is that my understanding of society is limited to the present, and getting older by the minute. If I form my child to fit the world of today, then they will never be able to shape the world of tomorrow. If I am an example of compliance and conformity, then my children will learn to value compromise over courage. Like all parents, I have infinite faith in my children’s future. But the only way to give them confidence in their own future is to demonstrate for them the confidence I have in my own. I must dare to dare.

We no longer live in a time where information is limited. Media is unrestricted and takes advantage of freedoms that often harm as much as they help. While much of the curiosity and cause for daring can seem lost in today’s interconnected world, I would argue that the hostility, fear and anger present in our world demonstrates a unique need for daring. The world needs those who dare to dare for good; who dare to dare for knowledge; who dare to dare for freedom and courage and community. And the best way to inspire a generation of daring heroes is to be a daring example.

Our lives have been graced by those who dared to dare. If we hope to leave a better world for those who follow us, we must follow in daring footsteps. There is incredible potential for justice, innovation, community and technology still ahead of us. What we consider to be fiction and fantasy can become real if the right people dare to make it so. And it falls to each of us to inspire and cultivate brave, new generations that dare to dare.

Wonderment

Posted on July 21, 2017 by Andrew Bustamante

We can all relate to a child’s wonderment; where imagination rules and even mundane objects can bring hours of exploration and intrigue. While watching children discover the world around them has always been endearing for parents, a child’s curiosity also presents an important lesson for those pursuing success: Wonderment brings achievement.

Children are perseverance personified. They can be unwaveringly focused or infuriatingly obstinate without showing fatigue or hesitation. They seem to float from activity to activity with little regard for the outcome. Their lives stand as polar opposites to the frustration, exhaustion, and discouragement many of us encounter in our pursuit of personal and professional success. And time and again we find that children achieve incredible things almost by accident – they speak multiple languages, devise complex stories, construct and climb terrifying obstacles, and show genuine compassion at totally unexpected times.

If ever we wanted an example to model, let me offer children as that model. No, I am not proposing that we stop sharing, throw tantrums, or tell fibs about other children – though I would argue that many business and political leaders do exactly that. Instead I am offering that we emulate the way children imagine, explore and let themselves wonder without the expectation of a specific result. To a child, a toy may look and feel the same way every day but there are no limitations to how it can be used. They may see someone day after day but that does not negate that person’s value. Routine is never routine for a child, and there are endless variations to the standard.

Children do not care about intentions, purpose or utility. To them, every person, moment and object is potentially interesting and worthy of wonder. It is stunning how our perspectives change when we grow up. As adults, we prioritize our lives around intentions, purpose and utility. We choose certain people, moments or objects as worthy of our time and even begin to think that it is the responsibility of others to inspire our sense of wonder. With such selective criteria before we choose to put in effort, how do we ever expect to break free of our current routine?

There are many things that stand between us and our ambitions; we must not let ourselves be one of them. Let wonderment be a tool for change. Explore the world around you with the limitless curiosity and unbiased mind of a child. Even though it may seem hard to change the way you think, remember that you too were once a child. Wonderment brought you to where you are. Let it take you to where you want to go next.

A Letter to My Son

Posted on June 15, 2017June 16, 2017 by Andrew Bustamante

My dearest little man. I am so excited for you to discover the wonders of our world. Love, adventure, joy and discovery are just a few of the gifts that make life breathtaking. Of all the wishes and dreams that I carry in my heart for you, none is greater than my hope that you will live your life to its fullest.

Know that wishes and dreams can be elusive things, my love. They can seem tauntingly close and painfully distant at the same time. They can lift us up or break our spirits with equal ease. For many, the evasive nature of dreams can cause pain too great to bear. Others tire of the chase and accept a lesser prize, unsettled and forever caged by curiosity about what might have been. But those that can persevere through doubt, fear and uncertainty are a rare and special thing. Find those few, surround yourself with them, share life together and you will never lack the courage to keep seeking.

Each of us encounters obstacles in our journey; people, resources, even knowledge. While some hurdles can be overtaken gracefully, others may seem woefully daunting. Resources and knowledge are the simplest to overcome; they are commodities that can be grown, traded and shared if ever you are lacking. People, however, pose the most challenging obstruction to navigate. In moments when you find yourself overwhelmed by relationships, sentiments, or social expectations, always remember that people are meant to encourage one another. Those that offer shame, hate, anger or derision in place of encouragement walk a different path than yours. Trust yourself to prevail against all barriers and you will. Take heart that you will find the way and lead others along with you.

I hope to grow old with you, my boy. I hope to share in your journey and see you impact the world for good in ways that I cannot imagine. I hope to be the encouraging voice that supports your dreams and emboldens you to pursue greatness. And in the moments when I am the obstacle, I ask that you remind me of my great wish for you. And I ask that you take heart, find the way, and lead me along with you.

I will love you always – Daddy

April Challenge: The Crust

Posted on April 19, 2017 by Andrew Bustamante

We must accept a universal truth: Kids don’t like to eat the crust. An endless battle for parents, this truth is a powerful tool for meeting goals.

Be it toast, peanut butter and jelly, grilled cheese or otherwise, kids have always preferred the core over the crust. It is not hard to understand why. Experience has proven to all of us that the soft part of the bread has the best texture, the freshest taste and is the easiest to chew. Even as adults, many of us still pick the soft core out of fresh bread served in high-end restaurants. We’ll never admit it to our kids, but we all know it’s true!

I find that a child’s approach to eating a sandwich is the roadmap to success in achieving goals. To the child, there is no sorrow for what they didn’t eat. Instead, they celebrate every bite of what they wanted to eat! They eat in perfect contentment until they are full, and then they leave the rest behind. Usually, the remains are not pretty; picked over and mangled like a wild animal came and plucked all the best parts out.

The same should be true of our goals. Goals are meant to be enjoyed. They should feed the body, mind and spirit and help us grow over time. While it is easy to build a goal that looks wonderful (like a good sandwich), finishing that goal is not always uniformly enjoyable. There are parts that we really like and parts that we don’t like that much. As adults, we try to force ourselves through what we don’t like by using discipline, logic and will power. Parents use the same tactics when trying to get their kids to eat the crust. And often, like parents, we find ourselves frustrated and defeated when our tactics don’t work. Even worse, we look back on the whole experience as a failure. Rather than approach our goals like the parent, I advocate that we approach them like the child.

Our April Challenge is entering its final week. Some of us may feel proud of our progress while others may feel discouraged. If challenges or doubts tempt you to quit or feel ashamed, remember what generations of children have taught us about bread: it is better to enjoy what we eat than it is to finish it all.

We all set goals that we knew we would enjoy. We spent three weeks overcoming distractions and making progress together. We must not let shame spoil the taste now! Keep working, keep growing, and enjoy every bite. After all, the best part of any sandwich is the core – not the crust!

Breaking Point

Posted on March 23, 2017 by Andrew Bustamante

We all have a breaking point. We don’t like to admit it, but that doesn’t make it any less true. While common conventions are that breaking means we are weak, stupid or lazy, I’d offer instead that breaking is what allows us to shed what was and build what will be. Without breaking points, snakes would be trapped in skin too small, butterflies would wither inside cocoons, and new trees would starve in shadows on the forest floor.

I was broken this week and I am thankful for it. A confluence of illness within my household left me serving as nurse, chauffeur, and janitor for my wife and son as we visited urgent care, primary care, and the All Children’s hospital over the last seven days. My son developed pneumonia after a particularly severe allergy season. His pneumonia resulted in matching sinus and ear infections over the course of his treatment – compounding his required medications and his own discomfort. My pregnant wife, having just re-discovered morning sickness in her second trimester, picked up her own upper respiratory bug along the way and found herself undernourished and painfully congested. For seven days my family didn’t sleep, barely ate, and sought what comfort they could in the light of a TV that droned endlessly in the background. I prayed I would stay healthy long enough to get one of the two of them back to normal.

We live in Florida and are a proud sailing family. Our area, Tampa Bay, is consistently recognized in the top 3 places to sail in the United States. In 2015 I took a 7 day advanced sailing course. Expecting a cushy summer vacation, my trip was rocked by 5 days of uncharacteristically blustery, cold rain storms and rough water. Any hope of rest and relaxation was gone by dawn of the third day when I dressed in the same cold, wet rain-gear from the previous two days to embark on another day of high winds and cold spray. For seven days I didn’t sleep, barely ate, and sought what comfort I could on the high-side of the boat where the seasickness was minimized by fresh breeze. I was broken.

I recalled that boat trip in 2015 while holding my son, shivering in his 103 degree fever, sideways in front of an x-ray machine at Johns Hopkins All Children’s hospital on the 5^th day of his sickness. I found a certain peace when I realized that this bout of illness, like that terrible wind and rain in 2015, would pass. All storms pass.

During a storm, things break – ask any sailor and they will agree. But rather than focus on what breaks, the defining mark of a seaman is what they choose to do when the storm ends. Some are fearful of the water for the rest of their lives. They stay in their slip when the wind is up and opt for an engine over a sail when they see whitecaps on the waves. But the courageous few, those who travel across oceans in personal sailboats through squalls and seas as tall as buildings – they experience life unbridled. Rather than fold their sails and return to the dock, they pick up where they left off when the storm hit. Nothing keeps them from their destination.

Everybody has a breaking point. The question is what will you do when you are broken and tired after the storms pass?

Drivers Needed

Posted on February 9, 2017 by Andrew Bustamante

One of my earliest childhood memories is sitting in the back seat of a 1970s era Ford Bronco II watching cars on the other side of the highway drive by. I remember realizing on that day that every car had a driver, an individual going to and coming from somewhere different than me. For an instant, our lives were crossing at an unknown mile marker on an unimportant Pennsylvania road, likely never to cross again. It was the first time I connected that I was only one (small) person in a world full of people.

On the way to school the other day, my 4 year old son looked at the traffic outside his window and asked me, “Daddy – is that car going to school also?” His question immediately took me back to that rural highway from my childhood. I will save you the back-and-forth discussion that followed; anyone who has ever had a conversation with a 4 year old likely knows how it went. But what I took away from his question was that every car still has a driver, and every driver is still going to somewhere and coming from somewhere.

I have always hated long road trips. Hours sitting in one place never suited me very well. My youngest sister, on the other hand, wrote the book on cross-country car travel. If you ever meet her, you’ll likely wonder how we could be related… until you hear her talk about the future. Like me, she believes without a doubt that we shape our own lives. Nobody and nothing can hold us back if we want to move forward. My sister is a driver, not a passenger. She goes where she chooses, overcoming risk with total confidence that the road ahead will only end where she decides.

Too often, we find ourselves living like passengers rather than drivers. Whether we sit quietly or complain the whole time, we ultimately let someone or something else do the steering. It is always easier to be a passenger rather than the driver: no need to pay attention to the road, no decisions, no stress from other drivers. For all the ease, however, the cost is significant – you only get to go, see and experience what the driver chooses. Even worse, passengers often don’t realize that the drive is over until the end – when it is too late to drive anymore.

The status quo exists because of passengers. Anything you can think to change can be changed if you become a driver. Passengers look down, away or even choose to sleep during the ride. Drivers look ahead, beyond and around in order to get where they want to go. No matter how hard or uncomfortable the trip may be, always be the one holding the wheel.