The (Wo)Man in the Arena.

In the opening of one of Brene Brown’s books, Daring Greatly, she references a quote by Theodore Roosevelt. I recently came across this quote again. It’s full of powerful words that I feel should really be taken to heart.

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”

It sure does paint a picture, doesn’t it? I just imagine some guy in the middle of an arena, fighting for his life, with an audience looking down on him, full of critics, skeptics, and supporters alike. People criticizing moves he should have made when he is tired, weak, bloody, bruised, and broken. People laughing at his inability to fight stronger and longer, and the hurtful things they would likely say. “He can’t even fight. He’s good for nothing. He deserves this.” And the supporters, tears streaming down their faces, cringing with every blow, comforting one another as they watch the defeat of a loved one occur slowly and mercilessly in front of them.

Long ago, these moments were relatively only observed by the people in the arena, and while the stories may spread throughout the land, it is often only the survivors that get remembered as heroes and regarded as great fighters of their time. As if one person’s life means more than another, because his abilities were different. Yet both had the courage to walk into the arena knowing full-well where their individual strengths lie. The man who loses is deemed a fool, yet he walked into the arena knowing his fate and did. it. anyway.

I can’t help but wonder, what does the arena look like today? And is the person in the arena a willing or unwilling participant?

The arena is obviously a metaphor for life and the observers are all the people we may encounter in it. While we may be able to control what we do in the arena under watchful eyes, we cannot control the stories the audience takes home and tells to others. This is just as true today as it would have been back in, say, the Roman Empire. 

I would just hope, for myself and for others, that we don’t just get remembered for how good or bad we fight, but that we are respected whether we win or lose because we had the courage to step into the arena in the first place.

Our lives cannot and should not be narrowed down to a single fight, because it’s all the events that led up to that point that build the character of the person who chooses whether or not to enter the arena, and fight the fight, knowing his or her odds. It’s not always the outcome that matters most, but the effort you put into it.