Knowing When to Say When

Records of the ancient Greek Olympics speak of phenomenal long jump distances of 40 or 50 feet by some of those naked Greek Olympians you’ve heard about. For many years it was widely accepted that the distances were simply false; nothing but fables designed to glorify the Greek athlete to future generations.

Then some -ologist found some interesting rocks and came up with a theory.

He had been digging around in Greece and found several pairs of large stones with what appeared to be handles carved in them. One thought lead to another and this is what the guy figured out: The stones were used by the long-jumpers who would run with a large stone in each hand. At the point of takeoff, while still holding the stones, they would thrust both hands in front of them in an upward swinging motion. The added momentum from the heavy stones would then carry them farther than they could have jumped without them.

The only problem with this theory came when test athletes were unable to duplicate the historic distances using the described method. But that all changed when one of the athletes had a brainstorm. He attempted jumping with the stones, but at the apex of his leap he swung both arms quickly backwards and cast the stones behind him as hard as he could. This action propelled him several yards farther than any of the athletes had jumped on previous attempts. With practice, several of the athletes were soon matching the distances recorded in the ancient records.

When I heard about this interesting discovery, it reminded me of something I experienced while living in Sweden many years ago.

A kind Swedish family who lived near a lake had been feeding a family of swans for several weeks. The two adult swans had been raising three cygnets (baby swans) all summer, but the Swedish winter was setting in. None of the family of swans would leave because one of the cygnets had deformed wings and could not fly. I told the Swedish family that if the swans did not fly soon, they would freeze in the forming ice and die.

When they asked what I thought they should do, I told them that I thought the cygnet with the deformed wings would have to be killed. The family bond of swans is so strong that the two adults and the other two cygnets would stay and freeze to death rather than leave the deformed cygnet alive and alone. The family scoffed at my suggestion and continued feeding the swans, hoping they would fly south before the lake began freezing.

About a week later, one of the family’s neighbors came upon the poor deformed cygnet barely alive, frozen in the ice. The other four swans were close by but had managed to free themselves by beating the ice with their strong wings. Mercifully, the neighbor shot the cygnet. The next morning, the family of four swans left the lake, flying south for winter.

So what do these stories have to do with anything?

Well, I’m not going to claim they are metaphors. And if they are, they are far from perfect. They just remind me that we all carry around things that we would be better off without. They may even be things that seem valuable, or that were once valuable; things that helped us get somewhere or achieve something, but have since become nothing more than heavy stones dragging us to the ground.

Maybe it’s that old shirt that just doesn’t look decent anymore. Maybe it’s a memory of a fight with a loved one from months ago. Maybe it’s envy or spite or fear or guilt. Whatever it is, kill it. Throw it behind you as hard as you can. In doing so you may find you propel yourself farther and faster than you ever thought possible.