Kudzu
If you were born in the Southeastern United States like me, you inherited a lot of things: syrupy sweet tea, saying "y'all", calling a shopping cart "a buggy," and an obsession with college football -- just to name a few. We've also got kudzu, lots of it. It covers everything and is every where. It's like Santa Claus; it sees you when you're sleeping, especially if you're sleeping in an old barn or down by the railroad tracks, and it knows when you're awake, especially if you're driving down some old country road.
For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, it's a vine imported from Japan to help stop erosion around about the time of the Great Depression. This stuff is tenacious. It can grow up to a foot a day in the right climate, and the South has that perfect mixture of humid, rainy summer days and mild winters. The stuff has gone crazy.
For my entire life kudzu was this ecological villain we'd all inherited. It was always used as the perfect example in the "when non-native species go wild" talk in biology class. My grandparents spent hours cutting and burning the stuff just to keep it clear of the trees in front of their rural Alabama home. I've always heard the best way to get rid of it is to stake out some goats.
As it turns out that advice about the goats seems to be good because a few weeks ago I saw a very interesting documentary about kudzu called Kudzu Vine on the Documentary Channel. I know what you're thinking, "You seriously watch the Documentary Channel?" Uh, yeah. Sometimes.
I'm glad I got to see this little film because it's about twenty minutes long, and I must say it gave me a whole new respect for that old villainous vine. Plus the artistic flavor of the whole thing was pretty interesting too. Watch it if you want.
After I watched this "ode to kudzu", I started thinking about the things we inherit. It is an inescapable fact that each of us is born with a legacy all our own. As my brother likes to say, "You have to play the cards you're dealt." It's true. Is it fair? Probably not.
Last year I read a great book by Malcolm Gladwell called Outliers. The book gives specific examples that all illustrate the same basic idea: success is not as simple as it seems. Gladwell sort of demystifies the concept of American Success. I've mulled the things he points out in his book over for a while now, and it has changed the way I see some things in my life. Mostly it has helped me be a little nicer to myself. It's strange because some would say that looking at the situation a person inherits might lead us to make excuses, but I don't think that's Gladwell's point. In fact he's sort of pointing out that we need to stop making excuses and address the real issues in certain situations.
Gladwell also points strongly to the impact of being at the right place at the right time, and in some of his stories about famous people, things some might have seen as weird or a disadvantage are actually chief reasons for success in the end.
You're thinking --"Okay, so what?" Well, I was chatting with a couple of my colleagues a few days ago, and it turns out the three of us have similar backgrounds and that our families faced many of the same challenges. They talked about how they felt about things growing up, that they felt lonely or that no one seemed to care. I got the impression both of them felt way more emotionally hurt by their experiences than I did, even though the circumstances are remarkably similar.
After talking to them both for a while and sharing memories of my own, I realized there was one big difference. People in my community, namely at school and at church, helped my family out. Sitting there talking, I could pinpoint opportunities I was generously given by people I knew. I didn't feel like a charity case at the time; I just felt loved. That made all the difference for me.
So maybe our life circumstances are a lot like kudzu. There are some bad things that really stand out and command our attention, but in those same circumstances there are also great things that are simply hidden sometimes.
I'm not sure I'm ready to fry kudzu leaves yet, but I will certainly never look at that old vine the same way again.
Image credit: http://www.sethbarnes.com/?filename=the-kingdom-of-god-is-like-a-kudzu-vine-on-an-old-barn
For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, it's a vine imported from Japan to help stop erosion around about the time of the Great Depression. This stuff is tenacious. It can grow up to a foot a day in the right climate, and the South has that perfect mixture of humid, rainy summer days and mild winters. The stuff has gone crazy.
As it turns out that advice about the goats seems to be good because a few weeks ago I saw a very interesting documentary about kudzu called Kudzu Vine on the Documentary Channel. I know what you're thinking, "You seriously watch the Documentary Channel?" Uh, yeah. Sometimes.
I'm glad I got to see this little film because it's about twenty minutes long, and I must say it gave me a whole new respect for that old villainous vine. Plus the artistic flavor of the whole thing was pretty interesting too. Watch it if you want.
After I watched this "ode to kudzu", I started thinking about the things we inherit. It is an inescapable fact that each of us is born with a legacy all our own. As my brother likes to say, "You have to play the cards you're dealt." It's true. Is it fair? Probably not.
Last year I read a great book by Malcolm Gladwell called Outliers. The book gives specific examples that all illustrate the same basic idea: success is not as simple as it seems. Gladwell sort of demystifies the concept of American Success. I've mulled the things he points out in his book over for a while now, and it has changed the way I see some things in my life. Mostly it has helped me be a little nicer to myself. It's strange because some would say that looking at the situation a person inherits might lead us to make excuses, but I don't think that's Gladwell's point. In fact he's sort of pointing out that we need to stop making excuses and address the real issues in certain situations.
Gladwell also points strongly to the impact of being at the right place at the right time, and in some of his stories about famous people, things some might have seen as weird or a disadvantage are actually chief reasons for success in the end.
You're thinking --"Okay, so what?" Well, I was chatting with a couple of my colleagues a few days ago, and it turns out the three of us have similar backgrounds and that our families faced many of the same challenges. They talked about how they felt about things growing up, that they felt lonely or that no one seemed to care. I got the impression both of them felt way more emotionally hurt by their experiences than I did, even though the circumstances are remarkably similar.
After talking to them both for a while and sharing memories of my own, I realized there was one big difference. People in my community, namely at school and at church, helped my family out. Sitting there talking, I could pinpoint opportunities I was generously given by people I knew. I didn't feel like a charity case at the time; I just felt loved. That made all the difference for me.
So maybe our life circumstances are a lot like kudzu. There are some bad things that really stand out and command our attention, but in those same circumstances there are also great things that are simply hidden sometimes.
I'm not sure I'm ready to fry kudzu leaves yet, but I will certainly never look at that old vine the same way again.
Image credit: http://www.sethbarnes.com/?filename=the-kingdom-of-god-is-like-a-kudzu-vine-on-an-old-barn
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