In the summer of 2005, the ledger of world records added to its rolls a sparkling achievement: A 31 year-old daredevil skateboarder from Encinitas, California became the first person to jump across the Great Wall of China without motorized aid.
After botching his initial attempt, Danny Way rolled down a massive ramp at nearly 50 mph, took flight, nailed a 360 spin, then landed with a bang, proverbial and otherwise, 61 feet away.
And if that weren’t enough, he repeated the performance twice more.
I love any story that celebrates bringing a dream to life, but that isn’t the reason I mention this one. Tucked into the news accounts was a small, almost incidental, tidbit that set my imagination awhirl. Among the several thousand people who witnessed Mr. Way’s great leap was China’s minister of extreme sports.
Oh boy! I said to myself. Finally, a government job I wouldn’t mind having. (Well, that is, so long as I got to determine just what an extreme sport was.)
Never fear, I can’t imagine omitting anything that fired the blood of Mr. Way and his peers. But I would bring to greater public awareness a few of those juicy inner challenges that ask the best of just about every one of us—whether sublime athlete or couch potato.
For instance: Articulating the point-of-view of those we fervently disagree with.
This event should not be confused with the more commonplace activity of giving our “interpretation” of another’s perspective. No. The trick here is setting forth their views, and their reasons for them, as well as they do.
I’ve had the wind knocked out of me on many occasions by this one. Such as when I learned that there is a whole school of child-rearing that advocates regular spankings (even using sticks, belts and wooden paddles on bare bottoms) beginning as early as 18 months.
As a kid in grammar school (and probably even younger than that) it was beyond my comprehension that any adult would think that they could get me to do something by threatening to cause me physical pain if I didn’t do it.
As an adult myself, I once had to walk out of a grocery store, abandoning my half-full shopping cart, when I saw a mother grab her three year-old by the hair and hiss, “God, I hate you.”
I’m not saying that parents who physically discipline their children hate them; I’m just acknowledging my sensitivity to the countless ways we undermine the dignity of one another—and thus why I find it tough to speak for those who feel that consciously inflicting pain is essential for shaping a child’s character in a positive way. My own behavior affirms the adage that the first person to raise his hand is the first person to run out of ideas.
My best understanding of the rationale behind corporal punishment is this: When children do something wrong, physical pain teaches them not to do it again. From this, they develop the internal control to keep themselves obedient and act morally. Without such punishment, the world will go to hell.
While I have obviously condensed a more elaborate explanation, I hope I’ve fairly represented those who advocate this approach to parenting.
Granted, speaking the views of those we disagree with can sometimes feel like we’re holding a mouthful of scalding molasses—too hot to swallow; too sticky to spit out. So you might ask, why bother?
My only reason is to grow the peace of my heart by seeing another as a reflection of myself: a human being who makes choices from fear. I may argue against those choices, but hating the people who hold them is really hating the part of me that has made the same choices.
My take on how life works is that every experience gives us precisely what we need in that moment to grow love—since growing love is the reason we’re here.
Which means, if we can bring love to stating positions we oppose, maybe eventually we can bring it to the Big Enchilada of extreme sports: leaping the great wall of freedom by forgiving ourselves and everyone else for everything.
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