A picture's worth a thousand words? Enough said.

For quite a while a print out of this picture has hung on various bulletin boards at my workstations from my office in Patterson to my office at home to my classroom for a couple of reasons. First, it’s just a funny picture. And who doesn’t need some comic relief every once in a while?

But my real attraction to this picture goes beyond hilarity of that poor little donkey’s woes. When I look at this picture, I see more than a few laughs… I see a thousand words.

I see that every creature on earth, even teachers and donkeys, have a limit to the amount of life they can take one at one time. They can only pull so much weight before they start to become overwhelmed by the staggering weight of all the tasks and responsibilities that they take upon themselves or that are thrust upon them.

I see that once a person reaches this point of being totally overwhelmed they cease to make progress; they no longer can move forward. Instead, the weight of life overcomes even the greatest strength, the strongest will, and the deepest passion.

I see that when the weight of life manages to finally throw its carrier off balance, it is not a pleasant experience for that carrier. It is obvious that this donkey, known for his stubbornness but not his intelligence, is highly displeased with the situation. He dangles helplessly; ears pinned back and ready to come down kicking. And he’s just a donkey. Imagine how amplified his poor donkey feelings would be if they belonged to a human: one with a full understanding of how important each responsibility is and who would be let down when the carrier of that responsibility failed.

I see that the problem now is that the likelihood that our donkey will be able to get himself down without some assistance or without a change in his load is very small. And if he can’t get down, he can’t move forward at all. Even if he could handle pulling the weight, he would never be able to get his feet on the ground to begin with. He can’t even unload anything from the cart himself because he’s stuck in the air! So now not only is he ashamed that he has failed to complete the tasks, and angry with himself to have let down those who were counting on him, he’s also frustrated because, unless something changes, there is nothing he can do about it.

I see that the only solution to this problem is to ask for help. For humans, who can often be very donkey-esque, overcoming our stubborn pride to ask for help can often be one of the hardest things we could ever have to do. But it is necessary to realize it is necessary. We may have the benefit of opposable thumbs, but in a situation where we have been outweighed and defeated, we have no more chance of overcoming the challenge along than that donkey.

I see that, although a donkey suspended in mid-air seems unnatural and problematic to me, the people around him and his cart seem totally unfazed by the sight. They don’t have alarmed expressions on their faces, nor do they seem to be hurrying to unload the cart or pull the poor beast down. Was it a human, I’d say it was because we are so expert in hiding our struggles that it is often difficult to spot. Which once again reminds me: help won’t show up unless you ask for it.  Ask and ye shall receive, don’t ask and ye shall suffer, suspended eternally in midair with the shame and anger and frustration and (surely) sadness of the situation.

I see that we are not donkeys. This donkey, a prized work animal, stood obediently by as his owner no doubt piled all of those boxes on the cart he was to pull. We however have the luxury of the word “no.” Though so rarely we use it, we have the choice to take on projects or to say “No, thanks. I can’t.” We have the ability to judge how full our plates are and if we can in fact handle another package. The key is learning that it is okay to say “no.” That it doesn’t make us an “ass” if we say “no.” In fact, it makes us quite the opposite. It makes us the anti-ass. We aren’t standing idly by letting someone pile tasks on us that we can’t possibly do a quality job completing because we are spread so thin. We are learning what we can do and when we can do it and having the strength to say when enough is enough.

I see that from the opposite end of the spectrum, it is important to be aware of how we load the carts of others. Even if the person pulling the load says they can handle it, it’s important to be aware of the weight they’ve been given and to be there to help them pull if the load becomes too heavy and starts to lift them into ineffectiveness. As leaders, it’s our job to delegate responsibly and monitor progress. If we are doing our jobs correctly, no one gets weighed down, everyone makes progress, and everyone benefits from that progress.

I see that it’s important to tie on our responsibilities with the right type of material. In the picture, the rope that is attempting to hold the boxes on the cart is tattered, torn, and weak. It is limp, not pulled tight, and the knots that have been tied with it are unraveling. This reminds me of the way we can take on responsibilities that don’t fall into our passions. We should be taking on different aspects of life because we care about them, because we love them and we know what good can come from them. We should be taking on areas of life that we are passionate about because if we feel even the least bit of apathy toward it, we will not produce quality results. That responsibility will get put on the bottom of the pile, crushed and battered and abused; and someone, somewhere down the line will suffer because of it. My dad always said, “If it’s not worth doing right, why do it?” We have to choose things that we feel are worth doing right. Then that passion will help bind that responsibility. And the results produced will be the quality that everyone involved deserves.

Wow. That was exactly 1000 words. But 1000 words later, what does it all really mean? Well, to be frank…

Don’t be an ass.