Choosing Teams for the Game of Life

Choosing Teams for the Game of Life

Until recently, I was pretty clear where I stood and why— firmly and proudly with Team Make it Happen. There’s another team, Team Meant to Be. We’re the doers, they’re the believers. They accept, we activate. They hope. We hike. And obviously, we’re the superior team.

A funny thing happened on my way to judging and dismissing Team Meant to Be. I realized they might have something. Something I wanted, and maybe even needed. Perhaps it was time to change the way I play.

You know Team Meant to Be, don’t you? They attribute an event—painful, miraculous, or just surprising—to a higher spirit, God, luck, or magic. To an outsider, it appears they don’t wallow in what ifs, but move forward powered by accepting what is. While I do give a shout out to karma for the appearance of an open parking spot  (bestowed by the universe for letting someone ahead of me at the market) I don’t understand why one would give up calling their own shots.

When a job is lost, meant to be. A life tragically cut short, meant to be. Climate change, divorce, the appearance of a soon-to-become-yours rescue dog, a double rainbow at the exact moment you needed a sign. Meant to be. A sports blowout or a courageous comeback. Sustaining marriages, miraculous recoveries, and functional families. Always meant to be.

“It was God’s will. The stars were aligned. It’s the full moon. It’s out of our hands. There’s nothing we can do about it. Magic, I tell you. It was luck. We’ll never know why. Some people just aren’t lucky. She gets all the breaks. He can’t catch a break. Good karma. Bad karma. She had an angel looking over her. Chance. Fate. Fortune. Kismet. Destiny.”

Seriously, why wouldn’t you take credit for great moments… even if that means taking responsibility for the rotten ones? Why wouldn’t you want to feel like you matter, you can make a difference, that the world depends on you?

Who really wants to hand over their power? Wouldn’t everyone rather be on Team Make It Happen?

Perhaps not.

In their shining moments, Team MIH are leaders, activists, artists, organizers and rabble rousers. They are the moms who get dinner on the table, clean laundry folded, summer camp schedules completed, and make Christmas morning happen. The dads who coach, fix, build, pay bills, maintain the vegetable garden, and teach their daughters how to backpack in the wilderness (and yes, I am speaking of my own family). Make it Happens invent, produce, and create. They are stubborn, committed, believe in their vision and act on their passion. They move. Fast. Their brains resemble hamster wheels, spinning like crazy. They are schemers, drivers and dreamers. And they get stuff done.

Our team slogan is, “We’re busier than you are, and proud of it.”

Time out.

Do I hear whispers of a downside?

Maybe. Possibly. Potentially.

Yes, there is a downside.

The downside, as you may have already figured out, is that MIHs are so focused on achieving—getting to the next thing—that sometimes they can’t appreciate the last thing. It’s all up to them, and they wear responsibility as a badge of honor. They are always in charge and they always know what’s best. In their worst moments, they can even manufacturer a little drama. And they aren’t particularly good at sharing… the work, or the light. They believe that if they aren’t making something happen, then nothing is happening.

You can spot them in their chosen position—that would be in self-centered field.

“I can’t slow down, there is too much to do. It’s my fault. It’s my responsibility. If I don’t do it, no one will. If you want it done right, you have to do it yourself. They’re depending on me. I am so busy I don’t have a moment to breathe. It would take too much work to get the information out of my brain and into yours, so I will just go ahead and do it. I will make it happen, even if it kills me. I’m needed. If only I had been there, I could have prevented/accomplished/stopped/started/finished it.”

My name is Kim, and I am a recovering member of Team Make it Happen.

I am 56, and I am learning that there are other ways, and they don’t all have the word “my” in it.


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