WHAT ARE YOU MADE OF?

The magazine advertisement caught my eye.  “What are you made of?” it demanded.  The expensive wristwatch in the piece was both strong and precious, wrought of steel and 18 carat gold, with diamonds punctuating its face.  The model, an enigmatic actress, presumably was chosen because she embodied the same traits.

I got to thinking more about the question as I paged through the rest of the magazine, and went back to tear out the page.  What are we made of?  What am I made of?  At any given time in my life, the answer would have been different.

We are, of course, the sum of our experience.  Our experiences govern our behavior and our responses – thoughtful and measured, or rote and instinctive from our gut – at key moments.  We are shaped by those moments, just as they reveal our core in their sudden immediacy.

What are we made of?  If we are influenced by strong principles and values, we draw upon the knowledge and strength associated with them, even if we are being tested for the first time.  Organizations like the Boy Scouts or the Marine Corps value the triumvirate of alertness, preparation and values to build teamwork and camaraderie.  These psychological strengths create accountability in self and colleagues.

What are we made of?  Where does inner strength originate?  Can performance be anticipated and relied upon, based upon observations and predictability?  Would someone want me in their foxhole?  Would your phone ring in the middle of the night?  Would your friend push his way through a crowd of bystanders and make a rescue?  Would your sister blow a whistle?

What are you made of?  I thought of defining moments.  I’ve had mine, and others have described theirs to me.  We’ve all read scary real life stories about emergencies and threatening situations.  The main thing is, there rarely is specific preparation when a crisis arrives.  Instead, it smacks you upside the head and you’ve generally got seconds to react and decide.

I thought of heroes.  The larger than life kind – Rick Rescorla, the Vietnam Vet from Cornwall, England, who sang his way down hundreds of steps in the World Trade Center, encouraging (en-courage) the terrified hundreds in his care to make their way through the smoke and fiery darkness.  The long-term kind – Oscar Schindler, whose heroism became an everyday occurrence, as natural as taking a meal, or putting on his coat.  The everyman kind - the commuters who ran to the school bus after the Minneapolis bridge collapsed to rescue all the children aboard, and the truck driver who had briefly met the bus driver’s eyes before he swerved to block her from plunging into the break, ensuring his own death.  The everyday kind - our dearest friend, who will receive a folded flag tomorrow while guns are fired and the bugle sounds.

I think of the courage displayed daily in hospital waiting rooms and on tough city beats.  I think of those who arise to face a new day of battling their demons, those who find the fearlessness in letting go, and those whose fear paralyzes them into inaction.  What are you made of?

Wouldn’t we all like to think of ourselves as heroic responders to whatever comes our way?  The fact is, all of us are not.  At one time or another, each of us may not be, either.  One unforgettable time, I bargained.  “God, please let him live, and I will do this.”  It worked.  He lived, and I did.

What are we made of?  Pete was painting his living room.  He saw a flickering light and realized it came from across the street, a person on fire.  Later, he found his paint roller in his front yard, abandoned as he sprinted to the rescue.

Others, battle veterans, fire fighters or emergency personnel who routinely face intense danger, report that they never feel more alive than when the adrenaline kicks in.  They go about their business highly effective, super organized and miss the intensity when it’s over.  Some chase it.

What am I made of?  Could I count upon myself to do what needs to be done?  Can others rely upon me?  Am I limited to certain situations and completely ineffective in others that might come my way?  I don’t know.  I hope I’m the kind of person who will always rise to the occasion.  I try to be, but I know it’s not always a guarantee.

What are you made of?