Searching for Meaning

I have Immortal longings in me. —William Shakespeare

o easy to become diverted by lesser choices-choices that in the long run are of little value or meaning. And so to gain the peace of mind
Principles that help us in our search for meaning include

- -Contribution
 1
Contribution

All men should strive to learn before they die, what they are running from, and to, and why. — J a m e s T h u r b e r

asy especially when we are so tangled up with the little things of life. Yet there comes a point when each individ?ual should
ed upon. The first story tells of a young man by the name of John Baker. A gifted runner with Olympic aspirations, John's se
 J ohn Baker's Last Race
William J. Buchanan

er, touted by sports writers as one of the fastest milers in the world, he had fixed his dreams on representing the United
Albuquerque pals, he was considered "too uncoordinated" to run track in high school. But something happened during h
hn Haaland — who was Baker's best friend — to join the track team. Haaland refused. "Let me join the team, " Baker sugg

Surge of Energy

sed on Albuquerque's reign?ing state cross-country champion, Lloyd Goff. Immediately after the crack of the gun, the field

ant. "Here comes

tled runners far behind, K

new meet record What happened on the far

buck of the leader I"

 his body. "It was almost hypnotic, " Baker recalled. One by one he passed the other runners. Ignoring the fatigue that tore at his muscle
nager became a fierce, unrelenting competitor — a "heart" runner who simply wouldn't be beat. By the end of his junior year Baker had

"Upset John"

h city streets, parks, and golf courses—twenty-five miles a day. The training told. Soon, in Abilene, Tulsa, Salt Lake City, wherever the N
erque for a dual meet, sportscasters predicted doom for the Lobos. The mile, they said, would fall to U. S. C. 's "Big Three"—Chris Johnso
at the same moment, Baker and Johnson moved for the lead—and collided. Fighting to stay on his feet, Baker lost precious yards, and Jo
nt, handing the demoralized Trojans their third-worst defeat in sixty-five years.

A Coach Who Cared

he wondered, Olympic material? In the end, he accepted a job that would allow him to pursue both ambitions—he became a coach at As
is or her best. This fairness, plus an obviously sincere con?cern for his students' welfare, triggered a powerful response. Youthful griev?a
ne morning near the end of the month he awoke with a painfully swollen groin. He made an appointment to see a doctor.
esticles had suddenly erupted in cancerous growth, and the mass was already widespread. Though Dr. Johnson didn't say it, he esti?mat
hing career w a s ended. Worst of all, his family faced months of anguish.
 Edge of the Precipice

that night, he told his sister Jill what had happened that clear June day.
reached for the emergency brake. Suddenly a vision flashed before his eyes—the faces of the children at Aspen Elementa
ment Supervisor" all wearing their offi?cial Aspen jerseys, all eligible to earn a Coach Baker ribbon for trying hard. Baker

Silent Suffering

r school. He's the Chief Infield Raker. "

wo grandparents: "In other schools, our granddaughter suffered terribly from her awkwardness. Then, this wonderful year at Aspen, Coa
recognized, Baker had been suffering severe pain in silence, using his incredible power of concentration to ignore the pain just as he ha

Cups for Dashers

en of Aspen, the girls on the Dashers responded to the new coach with enthusiasm.
asped. Inside were two shiny gold trophy cups. From then on, deserving Dashers received such cups. Months later, Baker's family would
are going to the national AAU finals. "
 tions brough
"

Walking Tall

ining hospitalization, Baker insisted on returning to school for one last day. He told his parents that he wanted the children to remember
her best at the finals.
ood in style. " Shortly after dawn on November 26, he turned on his hospital bed to his mother, who was holding his hands and said, "I'm

wildfire.
n Baker. " Aspen officials referred the mat?ter to the Albuquerque school board, and the board suggested a voter referen?dum. In early s
ally became John Baker Elementary. It stands today as a visible monument to a courageous young man who, in his darkest hours, transf

ution. By focusing his last energies on the hearts and spirits of the children, he left a lasting legacy in the lives of those he

With her children out of the nest, her husband gone, and so much of life behind her, would she choose to sit back and be a

ANTONIA'S MISSION
Gail Cameron Wescott

n Tijuana, Mexico. Twenty-five hun?dred fed-up prisoners, packed into a compound built for six hundred, angrily hurled broken bottles at
Then, at the peak of the pandem
Incredibly, they did. "No one else in the world but Sister Antonia could have done that, " said Robert Cass, a former inmate, now reha?b
La Mesa, without hot water, surrounded by murderers, thieves, and drug lords, all of whom she lovingly calls her "sons. " She attends to
u are rich, " she remembered. He also told her that once a Beverly Hills girl, always a Beverly Hills girl. She believed him.
auty by her teens, she spent her weekend evenings dancing with young soldiers at the canteen and dreaming about the future. Her drea
to discuss. "Because a dream ends doesn't mean that it didn't come true once, " she said. "What matters now is my second life. "
ause I couldn't stand seeing men tied to the mast and lashed, " she said. She had kept her
donated to hospitals in Peru, " she pointed out. "There comes a time when you can't just be a spectator. You have to step outside the lin
, "the only Mexicans I knew were gardeners. " Now she found herself deeply drawn to the people.
mary, men were desperately sick, yet would stand when you entered. " Soon she was spending nights there, sleep?ing on a bunk in the w
Christmas Eve. "Her children understand her priorities, " said her friend Noreen Walsh-Begun. "They realize that she cared for them, and
you. She's not loved without reason. "
ar. I asked him if he had any idea what a car means to a family, how long it takes to buy one. I said, 'I love you, but I don't sympathize w
my immediate thought was, Oh, thank God, which I realize is not a typical response, but I love the police and they love me. "
aid, "but I have not experienced one day of depression in twenty-seven years, never felt hopeless. And I have never once felt there w

or status—will at various times encounter points when they must choose whether to step forward and make a difference o

ravages of war, he had every reason to remain securely indoors and keep to himself Yet when life called out to him, he-an

Paul Sullivan

al Cello festival in Manchester, England. Every two years a group of the world's greates cellists and others devoted to that unassuming i
 percharged with anticipation and concentration.

d, bone, and rubble.

ure any more. Anguished, he resolved to do the thing he did best; make music. Public music, daring music, music on a battlefield.
or, one of the most mournful and haunting pieces in the clas?sical repertoire. He played to the abandoned streets, smashed trucks, and
 age, love, and brotherhood with Vedran Smailovic.

nto the hushed hall and creating a shad?o empty

w y , universe, ominous and haunting. Slowly it grew into an agonized, screaming, slashing fu
or made a sound for a long time. It was as though we had just witnessed that horrifying massacre ourselves.
An indescribable electric shock swept

round each other in an exuberant embrace. Everyone in the hall erupted in a chaotic, emotional frenzy—clapping, shouting, and cheerin
ce of classical music, flawless in appearance and performance; and Vedran Smailovic, dressed in a stained and tattered leather motorcy

face of bombs, death, and ruin, defying them all.

elp contrasting this concert with the splendors I had witnessed at the festival. Then I was struck by the profound similarities. With his m
e were no bombs and bullets, but there was real pain—dimming sight, crushing lone?liness, all the scars we accumulate in our lives—an
ther we create it or simply listen, it's a gift that can soothe, inspire, and unite us, often when we need it most—and expect it least.

ous levels of despair. Perhaps their livelihoods are threatened. Maybe they have concerns about a family member. Possibly

Wrap Up

ugh his window and saw devastation. But while each of those piv?otal choice points was significant, the truly life-changing
ntributor? Are you satisfied with your present contributions? If not, I suggest you train yourself to ask on a daily basis, Wha

Reflections

est to be a secluded location for pondering his future and the contribution he wished to make. Where is your Sandia Crest?

will you spend your next year, month, or day?

d in a prison. What comforts are you willing to give up to make a more significant contribution?

spired the story's author, Paul Sullivan, to play the piano for nursing home patients. "Best" in their cases did not mean "be
 further insights on
C o n t r ib u t io n

Th e Se a r c h f o r Me a n i n g

search for meaning in life are those who have formed their thoughts and actions around a purpose that makes their life of

gine having a car phone? But technology has not altered our lives, other than perhaps how we go about them. We are still in the position

It is not enough to be industrious; so are the ants. What are you industrious about?
—J ames Thurber

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Some can't distinguish between being busy and being productive.
They are human windmills, flailing at work, but actually accomplishing little.
—Caroline D onnelly,
Money

strife and contention. Nevertheless, far from being at loose ends within themselves, such persons have organized their lives around so
o has a why to live for can bear almost any how.

—Friedrich N ietz

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t is well enough to leave footprints on the sands of time, it is even more important to make sure they point in a commendable direction.
—James Branch C

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g is more liberating than to fight for a cause larger than yourself, something that encompasses you but is not defined by your existence
— J o h n M c C a i n , Faith of My F
 The Power of One

e nothing to contribute. But the lessons of history are full of examples of the power that can come from the daily choices o

We ourselves feel that what we are doing is just a drop in the ocean. But the
ocean would be less because of that missing drop.
—Mother Teresa

? ? ?

nothing to give the sea because they are not rivers. Give what you have. To someone it may be better than you dare to think.

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mer, find a nail. If you're not hungry, not lonely, not in trouble—seek out someone who is.

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mankind. But this is a fallacy. You must believe that you can help bring about a better world. A good society is produced only by good i

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to an end.
 Individual Uniqueness

iss you if you were gone. There is a place that you alone can fill.

ose. Leonard was a great cellist, and a renowned teacher. Fortunately, he was also patient, because I was a very shy boy.
w. What Leonard said was, "I've taught you many things, but now you have to go off and learn on your own. " Because in fact the worst t

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not Moses?' They will ask me, 'Why were you not Zusya?'"

* * *
 Personal Missions

nce in a succinct statement. Such statements can become a personal constitution—the framework for making life-directing

it is a son of splendid torch which I've got a hold of for the moment and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it o

***

ndure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty, to find the best in others; to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy

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d, make me a channel of Thy peace,
at where there is hatred I may bring love;
at where there is wrong I may bring the spirit of forgiveness;
at where there is discord I may bring truth;
at where there is doubt I may bring faith;
at where there is despair I may bring hope;
d where there are shadows I may bring Thy light;
at where there is sadness I may bring joy;
d grant that I may seek rather to comfort than be comforted,
understand than be understood,
ove than be loved;
it is by giving that one receives,
s by self-forgetting that one finds,
s by forgiving that one is forgiven,
s by dying that one awakens to eternal life.
—St. Francis of Ass

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ant it said of me by those who knew me best, that I always plucked a thistle and planted a flower where I thought a flower would grow.
—Abraham Linco