Stubborn Truths

Mike Kohler

Stubborn Truths

Wisdom is out there...Waiting

Copyright © 2024 by Mike Kohler

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To my wife, Tracy:

Your support and patience and utter faith that these words existed even before they were written was often the only thing this book had going for it.

Thank you.

For my children,

I have much to learn, and so, there is much I still need to teach. This is my effort to begin to make amends.

For my boys, I would remind them that from the multitudes that have come before, thankfully, many have sought to teach us all.

Listen.

And for my daughter, who has her mother’s instincts, just keep going with your gut and you will be fine. This book may be useless to you. However, you may marry one day, and possibly even be blessed with sons.

Save it for them.

Contents

Preface

1. Why Matters

2. Serendipity Tingles

3. It Won’t Make You Happy

4. Life Bucks

5. A Touch of Faith

6. A Worthy Goal

7. Be of Use

8. Is It Too Late?

9. Fail Forward

10. Action Is Everything

11. The Real Enemy Is Fear

12. Obstacles: The Other Kind of Baseball Mom

13. Big Change

14. A Learned Habit

15. Life Itself

16. A Final Word

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Preface

I cannot understand how some people can live without

communicating with the wisest people who ever lived on earth.

—Tolstoy

Two men sat across from each other in folding chairs under the shed behind the garage, with nothing between them except a painful tension from the words that had just been spoken. A father had just told his 23-year-old son that he did not believe the woman his son had been dating for the past year and a half was a good match. The father attempted to reason with his son by explaining that the truth was obvious to everyone in the family; the couple disagreed too often on too many important issues. The father believed they were too different to succeed in the long run. With deep love for his son, he tried to explain from personal experience how challenging long-term relationships were, and that starting off with someone incompatible on significant issues did not bode well for a happily ever after.

The son listened to every word his father spoke, but what he heard was that his father, his hero, did not like the woman he loved. He felt attacked and the muscles in his arms and shoulders began to bristle against the heavy blows of his father’s words. A long silence ensued when the father stopped speaking. There was no attempt to un-say what had been said. Finally, the son stood and broke the silence. He ended the conversation without argument or rebuttal. He simply said, All right.

The father stood and received a half-hearted hug from his son and then watched him walk away without looking back. There was no discussion. No fight. With that singular inoffensive comment from his son, the father heard his oldest child tell him to mind his own business and to stay out of his life. The father subconsciously interpreted it as a complete rejection of his words, his concerns, and himself as a father. Both men were broken beyond their own understanding. Devastated.

Sometime later, the father reflected on his inability to reach his son with his reasoned and well-thought-out advice. He remembered explaining to his son that it was not that he was smarter than his son, but only that he had lived longer and seen many more things in his lifetime. It was only a matter of experience that separated them from coming to the same conclusion, and yet his son was offended and hurt. The father wondered why his son did not give more merit to things he had said. Who cares more about a son than a father? Why would he not listen?

The concept of his son’s failure to listen bounced around in the father’s for a few days after their painful talk. He wondered, Had I really been listening to my son in the time leading up to that conversation? He tried to recall how many times in his own life he had failed to listen to reason and solid advice in order to improve his own future. How often had he rejected thoughtful instruction and hard-earned wisdom because it did not fit his agenda? At 50 years old, the father realized that he too had—more often than not—refused to acknowledge, or even hear, sound and timeless wisdom.

I am that father.

This book is my best effort at being a better listener, and hopefully, a better teacher. I have compiled many quotes and thoughtful truths, and I wish to share them with you because they have helped me. They are not intended to be all-encompassing or the final word on any topic, but rather a glimpse of wisdom that might resonate with a reader in the same way they were inspired by the originator. Neither is this book the final chapter on wisdom; it is just the tip of the iceberg as to what is out there and what can be learned.

The stories that I share are based on actual events in my life and the lives of people I know, but names and details have often been altered for the sake of privacy and sometimes for the sake of the story. The stories are intended to illustrate how the wisdom of an expansive humanity can be distilled down and remain uniquely unchanged and relevant in our own day-to-day lives. Truth is timeless. Wisdom is forever.

I have aspired to be a conduit of such great thoughts and simple words, useful as tools, fully understanding that we are all different and that the significance of such things will vary among readers. That said, we are all humans in this experiment, and it often happens that many things overlap and are universal to us all. For all practical purposes, everything has been done before by someone at some time, and many clues have been left. Where those clues match up over decades and across cultures, they begin to sound a lot like wisdom. And wisdom, taken to heart, can become one’s own truth. We should all be searching for wisdom and truths deeply relevant to our own existence. In that, we are alone in nothing.

The answers are out there. They have always been out there.

Where these words have missed the mark, forgive me. Where they have a center cut, make them your own.

The wisdom of the past was hard-earned, and your dead ancestors may have something useful to tell you.

—Jordan Peterson

For those concerned, my eldest son eventually forgave my intrusion into his personal life. He and his one-time love interest eventually parted ways on good terms. They both became happy, well-adjusted adults, each in healthy relationships with other people.

I remain at my post, grateful, honored, and still trying to be a better teacher.

Practical Matters

This book has been written for easy accessibility and ready consumption. Read it as you wish. Jump around as your interests are inclined. Or, read it in perfect order, chapter and verse, if that suits you. Many of these words and ideas have been passed down through the centuries. Today, they are yours, at this moment in time, to do with as you—and only you—see fit.

Regarding Micro Bios

Throughout this book, countless quotes are referenced to drive home the persistent wisdom and truths of our past, present, and likely future. I’ve added micro bios for the source of each quote mentioned, intending to convey just a glimpse of who the person was and how they came to share their insight. You may or may not agree with their sentiments, as is your unalienable right. However, I feel it is important that we give credit where credit is due and have at least some knowledge of those who took the time to share their thoughts.

As is my custom, I shall, at my own option and discretion, draw from various sources in such measure and manner as shall suit my purpose.

—Cicero

Micro Bios

Leo Tolstoy (1828–1910)

Russian Writer

Born in Russia, Leo Tolstoy grew up to become an author and master of realistic fiction, as well as one of the world’s greatest novelists. He is best known for his two longest works, War and Peace and Anna Karenina, both of which are widely regarded as among the finest novels ever written. Later in life, Tolstoy also achieved fame as a moral and religious teacher. His writings have been described not just as works of art but more akin to a piece of life. A fellow writer commented that if the world could write itself, it would write like Tolstoy. For almost all who knew him and read his works, Tolstoy was not just one of the greatest writers ever, but he also served as a living symbol of the search for life’s meaning.

Jordan Peterson (1962– )

Psychologist, Author & Media Commentator

Born in Canada, Jordan Peterson became a practicing psychologist as well as a professor of psychology at the University of Toronto, where he began to receive widespread attention for his views on cultural and political issues. Describing himself as a classic liberal and traditionalist, he became famous via YouTube videos in which he criticized the Canadian Parliament and a series of pending laws that would compel the use of approved speech, as well as a general critique of political correctness and identity politics. He has attracted both support and criticism for his views. Through lectures and conversations available on YouTube, as well as various podcasts, he has reached millions of listeners.

Cicero (106 BC–43 BC)

Roman Statesman, Writer & Philosopher

Born in the region of what is now Italy, Cicero became a lawyer, scholar, and writer, as well as a Roman statesman who tried in vain to uphold the Republican principles in the final civil wars that destroyed the Roman Republic. His writings include books of rhetoric, orations, and philosophical treatises and letters. He was ultimately executed by his political enemies after the assignation of Caesar, with his head and hands being displayed on the speaker’s platform at the Forum in Rome. Today, Cicero is regarded as the greatest of all Roman orators and the innovator of what became known as Ciceronian rhetoric.

1

Why Matters

Start with why.

—Simon Sinek

A young woman lay dying in the hallway. The stretcher she was lying on was pushed up against the side of the corridor so people could pass. On the wall above her hung a piece of copy paper with one large handwritten letter: K. Of course, she had a name, but it was busier than usual, so for the moment, she was simply patient K. She was still breathing, barely. The faintness of her respiration was yet to be noticed by her assigned nurse, Daniel, who was distracted with his overflowing clipboard and his hyper-organized checklists of tasks that had to be done in a specific sequence for reasons he was yet to learn. In the department, there were many things going on and as many things that still needed to be done, and it was all very hectic and detracting and, in its own way, very normal. Yet something wasn’t right, but in that environment, it is often hard to differentiate between right and normal.

The emergency department waiting room was so full of sick and injured people that even space to sit on the floor was quickly vanishing. Each emergency exam room was occupied and overflowing with its own unique brand of suffering. Wailing and thrashing in room four from an otherwise healthy-looking individual with no obvious sign of injury; kidney stone, no doubt. A child’s cry from room seven and family shuffling in and out; yes, it was likely broken. The curtain was pulled closed behind the large glass doors of shock-room number two; nothing to see but the feet of family members as they slowly paced around the wheels of the hospital stretcher. The lights were dimmed and the monitors were turned off. There was an eerie calm about the room. This battle had already been lost. Important phone calls were being made in hushed tones as the family waited for the funeral home attendants to arrive. Unfortunately, it was all very normal, in this and many other ERs.

Patients occupying hallway stretchers—all with a handwritten capital letter on copy paper taped above each one—were deemed to be in less serious condition than those in exam rooms. For the most part, the hallway stretcher dwellers lay motionless under their mounds of blankets warranted by the permanently chilled department. Only when a living and breathing person of any sort walked by did they come alive all at once, like zombies raised in the flash of moonlight. They had requests. I need pain meds. Can I go to the restroom? Another blanket, please. And they had questions. Where’s the doctor? Where’s my wife? Can I have some blue Jello?

The emergency department had been designed to care for 15 patients at any given time, and so, it had 15 exam rooms, each readily identifiable by a professional and stylish metallic number located to the left of each doorway. It was simple and designed to be so. However, with the utilization of hallway stretchers to see more patients, the improvised hand-written lettering system for hallway stretchers was implemented as a ruse for clarity. Rudimentary tactics to momentarily keep mass confusion at bay. Exam room patients had a number; hallway patients had a letter. The common healthcare slogan, Our patients are more than just a number, was absolutely correct. Many patients were letters as well.

He who has a ‘why’ to live can bear almost any how.

—Friedrich Nietzsche

On that day, 39 patients waited in an emergency department designed to care for 15 patients. More patients were being cared for in the hallway than in actual treatment rooms, and worse, the ER was rapidly running out of hallway space—as well as letters in the alphabet. One newly trained RN was assigned to less serious patients located in hallway beds H through K. He relied on a clipboard full of checklists to stay organized and provide guidance where he lacked experience. As he approached his assigned patients and was in earshot of the motionless stretchers, the roar of uneasy requests erupted. Nurse! Can you help? Please! However, he remained focused and unaffected.

This new nurse had important things to do. There were assessments to complete and medications to push, so he quickened his pace. Somehow, somewhere along his short tenure as a nurse, he had developed the strategy of not making eye contact or demonstrating too much concern.

That’s how they get you, he concluded. Once they know that I can see and hear them, then I won’t be able to get anything done. Then, I may as well fetch blue Jello for everyone for the rest of the day.

He approached the inhabitant of stretcher H.

Hello. My name is Daniel and I will be your nurse today. I will be back in a few minutes to do an assessment. What is your name? The barely audible response kind of sounded like it matched the name on the patient’s wristband, which also corresponded with his notes. Perfect! And we are off to hallway patient I.

Hello. My name is Daniel and … The same routine was followed precisely. Check the wristband and the notes, and we’re moving again. Again, the exact same procedure was used in successfully greeting and identifying patient J. Daniel was on a roll to the next stretcher.

He offered his routine introduction to patient K and fidgeted with the clipboard for a few seconds while waiting for the response. Another moment passed without a sound, so he offered his introduction again a little louder. Checking his notes more closely, the records indicated that K should be a 22-year-old female suffering from right lower quadrant pain thought to be related to an inflamed or possibly ruptured ovarian cyst. The ultrasound results were still pending.

Ma’am?

Nothing.

He reached under the blankets and took her hand from beneath the layers of blankets to reveal the identification band on her wrist. There was no resistance.

Miss! he said more firmly with building concern. This was not part of the plan and definitely not on his to-do list. She remained completely undisturbed in the noisy hospital hallway stationed between the doorways of exam rooms number eight and nine. He looked to see if the blankets above her chest moved, hoping to see some sign of breathing but wasn’t sure he did. He grabbed her wrist and felt for a pulse. Something, but then nothing, he wasn’t sure. Daniel’s training beyond his checklists and superficial concerns began to return to him, and he was quickly coming to the realization that patient K was dying right there in the hallway in front of him.

His mind began to race as time came to a standstill. Is this really happening? He pulled back the blanket to see her face. She was young, pretty, and resting too peacefully for this noisy, hectic environment. Too at ease for the pain recorded in her chart. He was instantly terrified and dropped his clipboard and precious notes.

Code blue! he yelled down the hallway toward the nursing station where help might be.

In such a situation, no response is ever fast enough, so with sufficient panic, he kicked off the stretcher brakes and rammed patient K’s stretcher down the hall and toward the nurse’s station. With that, everything in the emergency department began to swirl in a growing momentum, all working together for a singular objective. Other more experienced personnel then added to the effort and the stretcher gained speed. Blue strobe lights started flashing above the station and down the hallways, and all other none-emergent care ceased. A crowd assembled around the racing stretcher and Daniel was peppered with questions.

"Does she have a pulse? What are the respirations? Pressure?

Daniel didn’t say anything in response, mainly because he knew maybe was not the correct answer. He was sure his face told them all they needed to know: this young woman needed more help than a hallway RN could provide.

As they approached the nursing station, other personnel were already pulling back the curtains in shock-room two and kindly but very persistently removing the family and the expired patient from the room. At this point, patient K was deemed to be more serious than any other person in the department and she needed that shock room. The two stretchers passed each other in front of the nursing station, one consumed with life-saving activity, the other followed by people in mourning. For a second, Daniel wondered, What will they do with the expired patient? Was he now supposed to be patient K?

Screech! Patient K’s stretcher arrived abruptly in shock room two. Green and blue scrubs-clad bodies started flying in and around the room. Technically, the young woman could now be identified as the patient in room number two, but nothing is official in a hospital till it happens in the all-important computer system, so she was still just patient K.

In a whirlwind, orders were given and meds injected, compressions started and oxygen administered. Daniel was right in the middle of it and overwhelmed. He did what he was told to do and questioned nothing. His arms and hands were busy in motion, but his mind was elsewhere.

Speculating later about exactly where his mind was in those tensest of moments, Daniel had to admit he was in the corner of the room watching everything unfold around him. He even watched himself work with the care team as best he could. Thoughts raced through his mind, possibly even through his soul. Why am I here? How did I end up taking care of patient K in the first place? How did this happen? He remembered seeing patient K’s mother standing in the back of the room by the wall, distraught, watching everyone do their jobs. He could see her and wondered if she could see him. No, he thought, I fear she can see me. He was worried that she might be able to see his fear, or sense how unprepared he felt, or even how ashamed he was; she was relying on him to know exactly what to do at this moment, but he wasn’t sure. Daniel’s mind fretted; can she see my selfish priorities or my shallow determination, and of course, how helpless I am without my all-important clipboard? Can she see what I feel?

* * *

Not too many years earlier, Daniel had told his father he was going to be a registered nurse. He reasoned to his mentor that registered nurses made good money right out of college, and that he would never have to worry about being out of work because health care is always in high demand. He talked about the overtime pay, the sign-on bonus, and even guaranteed vacation time. His father never heard Daniel describe the necessary details of the job itself—the work of providing care for people in need, as an act of great compassion and, for some, even a calling. Daniel only mentioned the practical details that benefited him. But then, in that horrible and possibly tragic moment, he finally asked himself the real questions. Why am I here in this room with patient K? Why did I become a nurse? Was it just about the money, the job security, and the vacation time? Is that my why for being here? Four years of schooling and countless clinical hours in training just to treat