I just finished doing one of my “Changing Your Weather” workshops at a local elementary school. The workshop was a huge hit. The kids’ energy and enthusiasm were amazing! They had a solid grasp on many of their emotions already, and they asked questions while I read my book to them. They had a ball when I introduced ways they could be emotionally resilient. For 1st and 2nd graders this consists of a game, my own version of ‘Red light, Green light.’ Green means ‘everything is going great!’ Yellow means, ‘I’m feeling an emotion in my body,’ and Red means ‘STOP’ and identify your emotions by shouting it out! ???? The kids engulfed themselves in the game, and really showed an understanding of why they were doing it.
By the end of the workshop, I was getting hugs, being asked if I would play more harmonica, and a few were even hanging off my arms asking, ‘when can you come back!?’ I felt like I was on cloud nine. Leaving the school, I was beaming from all the great energy, saying hello to everyone I saw, and just feeling awesome.
As I hit the fresh air in the parking lot, the memories of those incredible kids, the jokes we shared, and the games we played, started to fade into the back of my brain. My ‘mental gremlins’ quickly asserted themselves to re-focus my thoughts on my next steps. What school am I going to see next? What was my next goal? How about my calendar? How about talking to adults, and how will that go? Anxious thoughts about what I had hoped to accomplish in the future managed to block out the very fresh memory of my ‘win’ only 10 minutes after leaving the classroom. The potent feeling of seeing those kids grab an understanding of what I was trying to teach them was already being pushed into the recesses of my mind.
A memory surfaced: It was of a boxing match I fought in Redbank, NJ when I was 18. I was fighting out of the ICAT boxing Academy, and was in the very first amateur fight of my life. Hubbie Thompson (pronounce You be), my overly colorfully-languaged boxing coach, was in my corner when I came back after the first round. He placed a stool under me, and before he could get a word out, I started pounding him with questions about strategy, my energy nervous and heightened. What could I do to counter his right? If he comes out south paw (as a lefty) should I switch my style too? My heart was about to burst out of my chest, burning energy as fast as my mind was racing into the future round. If he comes out rushing me, maybe I should try –
Hubbie – even-toned and focused on getting a water straw in my mouth: Make the most of your corner time.
Me – basically spitting it out: What?! (heavy breathing) I can’t remember! I have to go back out there in 30 seconds!
Hubbie – laughing a bit, now toweling off my neck: Yeah, well, more like 25 seconds now, but since it wasn’t like it was two days ago; what did you do well last round?
I was barely 18 years old. An emotional recap didn’t feel all that helpful. I just shook my head incredulously and started trying to recall what I could remember…
Me: I felt relieved when got out there and he didn’t move all that well…
Hubbie – (wiping down my face): Yeah, you were pushing him around real good…
Me: All of my jabs were getting through, especially towards the end of the round, did you see that?
Hubbie – greasing up my face, eyes on his task: Right through…
Me: Those body punches were doing damage. He was starting to back up, where he was basically bull-rushing me in the beginning of the round, and –
Referee: Time!
10 seconds to the start of the second round. Hubbie took the stool out from under me. I was standing in my corner, all fired up, filled with all the confidence from what I just recalled of my performance in the previous round. I looked at Hubbie, who half grinned at me with an air of assurance.
Hubbie: Same as last round, kid. Ok?
Because of Hubbie, I can remember that day with crystal clarity, and all the feelings that came with it.
Now that I’m a bit older, I realize life is filled with ‘corner’ moments. Moments when you get your ‘breather’ after a huge win, momentary or otherwise, and how important it is to take time to ‘live’ in it. Reflect on it. Savor it. Because right after a ‘corner moment’ is when your mind is most available to store all the information of what just happened.
The wonderful experience that I had just minutes ago with those kids at the elementary school is very real and palpable in my mind, because it just happened. This is the time to write down my experience of it. To talk it out in the voice recorder on my phone. To call a friend and let them have a blow by blow. Every time I go over it in my mind, I deepen the neurological pathways that will allow me to access that memory later. A memory that can give me confidence when the ‘fight’ doesn’t go as well.
I pull my car back into the parking spot, and take a couple deep breathes. This was my corner time, and I was going use it. I get out my phone and record all that had happened with those great kids; as much as I can remember anyway. I quickly call a couple friends and relive the experience with them. When I finally leave that parking lot, I am filled with all the memories and images of a wonderful, well-earned victory, of getting my message on emotional awareness and resilience heard. Thank you, Hubbie, for teaching me how to make the most of my corner time.
