Yet Untitled 126 - Confessions of a front bencher
And disguised appreciation for the two people responsible for me being one
Dearest Yet Untitler
At school I was always regarded as a “front bencher”. Born enthusiastic like a Shih Tzu puppy on amphetamines, I always stepped up, volunteering participation. My teachers were happy to let me; maybe because it set a precedent for others to come forward. I did this to the point that it became my identity. Over time, I’d find it strange if I wasn’t raising my hand, volunteering and taking the lead in things.
This week, I’m thinking about where this deep-life-level impulse comes from, and also about the discomfort that “front-benching” affords me time and again.
As I grew up, I learned that taking the lead also entailed taking another thing: responsibility. This was one part of growing up that I had to reckon with, because I ran up against my conditioning as the youngest of three siblings, one who was usually not expected to step up and bear the true weight of things until absolutely necessary.
Life eventually and invariably required me to take the lead and take responsibility (scary combo!). Suddenly, volunteering to lead became a bit daunting and I started finding myself lingering at the back, allowing others to step forward instead. At the same time, the front bencher in me kept wanting to take the lead, secretly not liking this hanging-at-the back business at all!
This conflict is of interest to me, worth excavating and holding to the light. I feel there’s merit in understanding it better.
I don’t know why. Yet.
If you listen to old man Bob, he’ll tell you they you’re never actually in front:
“But you’re gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed You’re gonna have to serve somebody Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord But you’re gonna have to serve somebody.”
There’s a part of me that gets daunted by leading, and that part finds comfort in Mr. Dylan’s words. Why step forward when it’s just an illusion anyway?
But the front bencher in me keeps looking at the spot at the head of the line. To him, taking the lead feels important. If he was on a boat, he’d want to be at the helm, not in the hold.
There’s a concept in my Buddhist practice that always captures my attention.
Unseen virtue brings about visible rewards
Even though I consider these words wise, I still grate against them.
Perhaps, as the youngest of three siblings, I felt that I was not being ‘seen’. While my older siblings may argue that I was the one hogging all attention all the time, I would argue back that, for me, being ‘seen’ meant more than receiving attention. It meant being seen as CAPABLE, of being seen as worthy of handling responsibility.
My elder brothers were expected to be capable. They didn’t have a choice. Somehow, this didn’t feel like it applied to me. Chhota hai, koi baat nahin (Hindi trans: “It’s ok, he’s little.”)
Perhaps my relentless volunteering and front benching is a response to my need to show myself as capable after years and years of being left to my devices in the background while my brothers were literally conscripted into leading out front.
Perhaps it’s me competing with them.
Perhaps it’s me emulating them.
One thing’s for sure - while the impulse of writing this instalment may have been the accumulated angst of not being ‘seen’, it led me to seeing my siblings afresh with new respect and empathy for not having had a choice but to lead from the front.
Perhaps they both dream of the joys of hanging at the back as much as I dream of the glory of taking the lead. I wish them this joy. I wish them respite, if it can ever be so for them.
Once in a while, though, life invariably asks me to follow rather than lead; i.e. fulfil a function at the back of the boat.
What does the front bencher in me do when he finds himself at the back of the boat? When he’s at his best, he remains active, shifting his weight unseen at back of the boat, silently keeping it steady. When he’s at his worst, he finds his way to the hold and sits there, ineffective, begrudging.
I will get better at this! At being the first guy rather than the bitter gourd fellow.
Also, when I’ve been at the back and unseen, it’s not like I myself stopped seeing. I had the chance to observe those who were leading, learning from both their strengths and their weaknesses. Sometimes, I saw others in the front daunted as well.
Thank you, Yet Untitler, for listening. I cannot tell you how much the presence of your ears have made clear for me over 126 instalments.
Thanks again, sincerely, for listening.
Lots of love,
V
PS - but that doesn’t mean you have to only remain a listener. Hit me up, whether you’re the oldest, the youngest, or the middle human in your family.
Drop me even one word if any of this resonates!
Being the younger one has always had its bumps of being taken lightly - or not as seriously for sure!! I loved the lines about being seen as feeling more important than getting attention. I relate to that one :)
Love love love the « goodfellas » shot