I’m pretty sure I’ve blogged about this story I heard about Steven Spielberg’s childhood. One night when Steven was a young boy his father came home abruptly from work and hustled his mother and sister into the car. It was dusk as they drove off into the unknown. His father hadn’t told them where they were going. Of course Steven had mixed emotion I’m sure. In part he was probably a little afraid but he also must have been excited and in wonderment of where his father was taking them. After all, he trusted his father and until then believed that he could do no wrong.
After while, the family arrived in a big open field with no trees and a perfect view of the summer night sky; there were many other people there, on blankets, seemingly with their families. Steven must have felt a calm sense of safety seeing others there, and his excitement and wonder surely grew into a fever. His father put out a big blanket and the family sat down in the nearly pitch black field. The moon was nowhere in sight that night, but when they leaned back and looked up they must have been astonished by the sight of a perfectly marvelous meteor shower. To Steven it must have looked like the stars were dancing just for him. To Steven the whole universe opened up and said one thing, anything is possible.
That experience not only stuck with Steven Spielberg, but it literally defined him from that point on. He had been imprinted with an extraordinary cosmic event at that perfect age where the most significant events are burned into our subconscious as more than just experiences; they become fundamental organizing principles that drive everything we do and how we perceive the world. You don’t have to see more than one of his movies to know that Steven Spielberg is driven by the organizing principle that anything’s possible.
I think in my heart I’ve always felt this way. But I know that many of my defining experiences have told me the exact opposite. For some reason the events that made me who I am today said something I’ve been fighting from the inside out for my entire life. It said something to the effect of, hey, most things are possible, but you should keep it to yourself or you might freak people out. That just sucks. That’s my organizing principle, you can think anything’s possible, but just don’t say or do anything about it.
Now, organizing principle can be pretty powerful. In fact, they’re like your subconscious, it’s pretty much uncontrollable. On top of that, I believe that human beings are part of a greater system, an energy that everything in the universe is part of. Pretty much every religion has some concept of that type. That system is designed to work like an equation, both sides are equal and if you have organizing principles that have you thinking and acting positively, then the universe wants to respond with the same. This concept of like attracts like is age old and most recently publicized in the book The Secret. The really sad thing is that if you have organizing principles that have you thinking or acting negatively, well, that’s what you get. People, places and things in your world will naturally fall into place that supports your organizing principles. Yeah, that can be a great thing if you’re Steven Spielberg and you think and act like anything is possible, but it sucks if your natural state is that you think everything has been done and there is little more out there. Of course I don’t believe or act like that, but I’m caught somewhere in the middle. My heart is dying to explore, but my mind wants to do everything to hold me back. What is that? Is God ironic?
In a lot of ways I’ve built up a community of people places and things that keep me stuck. The older I get, the more I feel like one day I’m going to wake up and realize that I’ve just got too much stuff blocking the door and too many people holding it shut. What am I supposed to do?
I recently spent a day in New York and met up with some old high school buddies. In fact, only now did I stop to realize that these two guys we the best two friends I ever had in my life. I was best friends with one and best friends with the other, and the two of them were good friends, not best, with each other. It was an interesting dynamic. Growing up I actually had a few different types of good friends that naturally wouldn’t have been friends with each other, but I created, not intentionally, several intersecting circles of people. I was the common denominator that connected everyone. Of course each of those friends had some things in common with the others, but they individually had more in common with me. I’m a bit of a connecter, but in high school I never realized it. So my trip to New York, and meeting with these guys was really quite incredible, fascinating really. First I met up with one friend, we spent time hanging out in the city, at lunch, walked around, caught up and enjoyed each other’s company. After a few hours, my other friend met up with us. The three of us talked, laughed, and everyone had a great time together. We went to dinner, walked on the pier, and had a blast. Then the first friend had to go home, leaving me with the second friend, and he and I spent another several hours together. From start to end of the day, the conversation transformed as I transitioned from one friend to both to the other one. It was really amazing to see. I know it was me that enabled that, and I know both friends left feeling inspired, motivated, excited, and maybe even a little bit of that sense that anything is possible. God, what if everyone believed that?