Back in the Seventies there was a song by Kenny Rogers called "The Gambler." The chorus went something like this, "You've got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em, know when to walk away, know when to run . . ." That song used to irritate me every time I heard it. What kind of advice was that? It didn't mean anything at all!
For some reason I started thinking about that old song the other day. It's true that the gambler didn't offer any concrete advice to the narrator of the song, but maybe the reason that he didn't is that he couldn't. I think so many of us are caught up wanting an explicit blueprint for life, when there really isn't any. And we get mad because we aren't hearing what we want to hear or what we think we want to hear. We want it all spelled out detail by detail.
But when you think about it, that's impossible. And I think the first step in understanding this song, as well as understanding life, is that first you do have to know that you do have a choice whether to hold them, fold them, walk away or run. The next step is knowing when. And that takes experience. There is no one size fits all rule for every situation.
The other thing that struck me about this song is that three of the choices deal with quitting. Quitting has gotten a bad name. We don't admire the person who gives up. We don't admire failures. We blame them instead. But what the gambler is saying is that sometimes the only right choice is to quit. Sometimes you have to leave slowly and other times you have to get the hell out of there. He doesn't add (but he could have) that sometimes it's best not even to get in the game in the first place.
I have dealt with failure in my life. I had to reluctantly walk away from a cherished dream when it became obvious that this was not to be. I had sunk too much of my limited resources and borrowed against the future to the point where I was endangering that future (and could barely function in the present). There are people who will say well, couldn't you have just held on a little longer? No. The damage to my finances was too great. I was running a deficit. Unlike Congress, I couldn't sustain it. There was no other choice. It was a game I never should have gotten into, but at the time I was blind to the realities. I thought I could beat the odds. I am sure the gambler could have set me straight on that.
So there are times when we have to change course in our own lives. Sometimes we learn more from failure than we do success. I am beginning now to see the wisdom in a song I once scoffed at as "useless advice".
For some reason I started thinking about that old song the other day. It's true that the gambler didn't offer any concrete advice to the narrator of the song, but maybe the reason that he didn't is that he couldn't. I think so many of us are caught up wanting an explicit blueprint for life, when there really isn't any. And we get mad because we aren't hearing what we want to hear or what we think we want to hear. We want it all spelled out detail by detail.
But when you think about it, that's impossible. And I think the first step in understanding this song, as well as understanding life, is that first you do have to know that you do have a choice whether to hold them, fold them, walk away or run. The next step is knowing when. And that takes experience. There is no one size fits all rule for every situation.
The other thing that struck me about this song is that three of the choices deal with quitting. Quitting has gotten a bad name. We don't admire the person who gives up. We don't admire failures. We blame them instead. But what the gambler is saying is that sometimes the only right choice is to quit. Sometimes you have to leave slowly and other times you have to get the hell out of there. He doesn't add (but he could have) that sometimes it's best not even to get in the game in the first place.
I have dealt with failure in my life. I had to reluctantly walk away from a cherished dream when it became obvious that this was not to be. I had sunk too much of my limited resources and borrowed against the future to the point where I was endangering that future (and could barely function in the present). There are people who will say well, couldn't you have just held on a little longer? No. The damage to my finances was too great. I was running a deficit. Unlike Congress, I couldn't sustain it. There was no other choice. It was a game I never should have gotten into, but at the time I was blind to the realities. I thought I could beat the odds. I am sure the gambler could have set me straight on that.
So there are times when we have to change course in our own lives. Sometimes we learn more from failure than we do success. I am beginning now to see the wisdom in a song I once scoffed at as "useless advice".
