Jeffrey Patnaude
Claiming Our Bigness
A Metaphor for the New Millennium
Our self-image exerts a powerful influence on our behavior. For example, when we see ourselves as being “out of place,” we may act as if we do not belong. When we look at ourselves in the mirror and perceive the reflected image as unattractive, we may become shy and withdrawn. Too fat, too thin, too tall, too short – self- criticism rears its ugly head in an endless stream of self- diminishing images.
Some years ago, I visited a 17-year-old anorexic girl in the hospital. Despite the intravenous feeding, this gentle, starving soul was slipping away. Although I had not initially broached the subject of her disease, I eventually dared to ask, “Why are you doing this? (Why are you starving yourself?) “Quite matter-of-factly, she replied, “Because I am too fat.” At sixty pounds, she had already programmed herself to die.
This young woman’s distorted self-image (being “too fat”) tragically influenced her self-destructive behavior. Similarly, but to a much lesser degree, the insidious self-perception of “being small” directs the program in too many lives. Most of the people I train as public speakers experience the same phenomenon when called upon to deliver a talk. They ask, “Why did I just become so small and how did this room become so large?” In such moments, we “shrink” to our smallest size and curl up in fear when just the opposite is required.
Five years ago, twelve of us spent a week in Yosemite National Park. We spent our first night seven miles out into the wilderness. Although we had suspended our food packs 18 feet above the ground, a very large and clever bear visited us in the middle of the night and ripped two of our food packs from the wire by which they were hung. We decided to take turns guarding our remaining food standing atop a boulder directly below the packs. Thus, we could frighten the bear away if it should return.
The chances of the bear returning were astronomical, where as the chances of my being chosen as the first guard were high. Both occurred. As I sat upon that boulder in 29-degree weather, I could smell the putrid fragrance and hear the deep growling of this still-hungry creature. I was not a happy camper.
Unable to see anything in the pitch black of the night, I sat frozen, realizing that the only thing between an 800-pound bear and ten hanging snack sacks was me. Then it happened – the bear disappeared! The putrid stench and the huffing and puffing were gone! Feeling quite proud of my ability to “scare off” this ravenous, bottomless pit, I now sat quite contentedly awaiting the arrival of the next guard.
Five minutes passed, and in the silence, for some unknown reason, I was inclined to look behind me. There it was – the bear had quietly left the front position and gone around the hill to approach the food source from the rear. Not quite sure which (or who) was the food source, I did what any courageous camper would do – I panicked! And at that moment of fear, the bear chose to rear itself up on its hind legs. As if being that close to a wild carnivore were not terrifying enough, the creature now appeared to be at least 12 feet tall! So there we were, the big bear, and little me, each interested in the same thing – food.
And then it happened. From some extreme corner of the universe (probably from a galaxy far, far away) came a source of power, or perhaps foolishness, that commanded me to do what we had been taught to do on just such an occasion, make yourself as big as possible, and run toward the bear, yelling. With every fiber of my being wanting to do just the opposite (except for the yelling part). I instead listened to this “cosmic command” and charged forward. To my great surprise, the bear, fully intimidated by my now commanding and threatening presence, dropped down on all fours and ran off. “Well, he wasn’t’ so tough,” I thought. Swaggering back toward my post, feeling extremely powerful and rugged, I got sick.
I will never forget that night. What happens when we put the image of our smallness behind us and, instead, claim our bigness? Will the large bears that stalk us in the night run away? Maybe. But what is more important – what really counts – is that we rise to our fullest capabilities and become all that we are. Instead of shrinking and disappearing, we expand and appear. When we imagine ourselves as whole instead of insufficient, and big versus small, we are on the way to creating a new metaphor for the next millennium, an image of our wonderful, big selves.
– Jeffrey Patnaude