HAVE you ever wondered why we tend to be more polite with total strangers than we are with our own family?
Think back the last time you accidentally bumped into a passer-by. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had said something like, “I’m sorry, please excuse me.”
Now think back to the time when you accidentally collided into your child at home. I wouldn’t be surprised at all if you had sternly retorted with “Can’t you see where you’re going?”
If you’re saying to yourself. “Yeah, it’s true”, you’re not alone.
When someone spoke to me about this recently, I had to sheepishly admit to him that I am one of those who are “guilty as charged”.
It would seem at first that these reactions are totally normal, but you need only look a sliver below the surface to realise that if we can be so polite to people we don’t even know, how much more we should be considerate and show courtesy to the people who are closest to us.
But why do we react the way we do? Is it familiarity that breeds contempt? Is it an ingrained unconscious habit to take things too much for granted at home? Or is it just something that’s intrinsic in our culture?
Think about this too: We pour ourselves into work so passionately that it often exceeds the enthusiasm and dedication which we are prepared to shower upon our families.
In the same breath, we readily acknowledge the fact that if we die tomorrow, the company we work for could easily replace us in a matter of days. But the family we leave behind will feel the loss for the rest of their lives.
In spite of this, many of us continue to partake in such “unwise investments” which invariably yield poor rates of return. I know of people in my office who spend so much time at work that they jest about knowing more about their fellow colleagues than their own spouse and kids. For me, this is no laughing matter.
Here’s a story I heard some years ago:
A professor stood before his philosophy class with some items in front of him.
When the class began, he picked up a very large and empty glass jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.
The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full.They agreed it was.
The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked
once more if the jar was full.
The students responded with a unanimous “yes”. The professor then produced two cans of beer from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed.
“Now,” said the professor.
“I want you to recognise that this jar represents your life. The golf balls represent the important things – your family, your health, your children, your friends, your passions – the kind of stuff that if all else was lost and only these remained, your life would still be full.
“The pebbles are the other things that matter, like your job, your house, your car.
“The sand is everything else – the small stuff.
“If you put the sand into the jar first, there will be no room for the pebbles or the golf balls.”
You know, the same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small things, you will never have room for the things that are important to you.
Pay attention to the elements that are critical to your happiness.
Play with your children. Set aside time for your medical check-ups.Help out at a charitable institution. Take your spouse out to dinner.
Don’t worry. There will always be time to clean the house and fix the hinge on that cupboard door.
Take care of the golf balls first; the rest is just sand.
Wrirter: Geoff Tan
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