In the grand scheme of all things that comprise America, Michael Phelps is practically a local boy. Less than an hour’s drive from Hanover, Towson, or the Republic of Towson as my son-in-law has recently come to call it, has brought the world’s eyes to focus on this suburb of Baltimore in fascination.
I know very little about this young man other than what I have gleaned from T.V. and the internet, but he seems to be an all-American twenty-three-year-old to me. As a competitor he is fierce, but as a winner he seems pretty humble, at least when immediately interviewed.
I also heard something curious from a close friend, who attended an in-service this week on differentiated learning whose tenets require teachers to plan lessons to include the full spectrum of learners. The presenter used Phelps as an example of a kinesthetic learner, that is, one who relies on his muscle sense to learn. Phelps is among the largest percentage of learners who process best by engaging physically with their environment. Ironically, these learners are notably the most distracted and challenging students found within a traditional classroom framework. However, when given recognition and direction, these students often attain physical, mechanical, and artistic merit that outpaces their more verbally or mathematically inclined peers.
Sometimes people who are striving for excellence find themselves isolated for many reasons. They must be single-minded which sets them apart from their peers. They choose a relatively narrow channel of accomplishment. For example, how many people like to swim? How many swim competitively? How many people are willing to practice for hours every day?
Once having achieved recognition, how many are willing to go forward in the face of criticisms and unkindness that abound as a result this excellence?What type of an ego exists that re-directs itself into the hands of an apt mentor, knowing that in only this way can success be assured? The ego has to know enough about itself to turn itself over to more capable guidance than itself. The only other element to supersede ego and vast experience is intuition, which defies rationality.
Uniquely successful people also have to be knowledgeable of winners who have gone before and be able to place themselves within a winning paradigm. An appreciation and understanding of all the strategies, methodologies, and even secrets of previous record-setters must be scrutinized and used as models so that distinction might be achieved in a new way.
I read a letter posted by his sister just after Phelps won his seventh gold medal, and the comment I remember most was that she observed how utterly exhausted her brother seemed but that she knew he’d be back, as he said earlier in the week, “to be where [he] had to be.” In this seventh competition it was evidently Phelps’s acknowledged understanding of exactly where he was in relation to himself and his competitors that propelled him to the winning half-stroke. Phelps intuitively did what others would not have. He chose not to glide as the swimmer who was besting him, but rather to break the anticipated rhythm of his final approach to the wall.
Indeed, where are we all in relation to others, as we, too, strive for success in our daily journeys?
In the following poem from the collection edited by Terry Allen entitled The Whispering Wind: Poetry by Young American Indians, the speaker, much like an Olympian competitor, reflects upon his isolation, his goals, his sense of place in history and his heightened sense of presence. He knows exactly where he is and yet knows he has never been here before. He must let go of rationality and embrace what his senses tell him. He must believe in what seems to be the impossible, the miracle of being connected to something larger than himself while still maintaining his own identity.
Miracle Hill
I stand upon my miracle hill,
Wondering of the yonder distance,
Thinking; When will I reach there?I stand upon my miracle hill,
The wind whispers in my ear.
I hear the songs of old ones.I stand upon my miracle hill,
My loneliness I wrap around me.
It is my striped blanket.I stand upon my miracle hill,
And send out touching wishes
To the world beyond hand’s reach.I stand upon my miracle hill,
The bluebird that flies above
Leads me to my friend, the white man.I come again to my miracle hill,
At last, I know the all of me–
Out there, beyond, and here upon my hill.- Emerson Blackhorse “Barney” Mitchell