by Tony Litster
I’ve seen the Wizard of Oz several times.
Maybe it was just the lack of introspection. But most of my life, I just assumed that Dorothy was the real winner in the Wizard of Oz. She got to back to Kansas after all.
The others did alright as well. The tin man got his heart. The lion got his award for courage. And the scarecrow, well he got something, but it must not have meant anything to me, because I don’t remember what it was. But he seemed real happy.
But now I get it. The real winner was the Wizard.
For the better part of the last 3 months, I have been creating personal development products in my home office. And much of that time has been in the room I fondly call “the cave”. It is my own padded room. Literally. The ceiling is decorated with strips of egg crate foam that were designed for a mattress. The walls have gold and green and crimson material stapled to them. An alpaca rug with an eagle on it covers the closet doors. All in place to dampen the sound and make recordings sound professional. There’s even a little mattress on the ground in the corner for times when I just can’t stand to hear my own voice any longer and I curl up in the cave for a long winter’s nap.
Eventually, thousands of people may listen to these little creations. But until then, they are just for the imaginary audience in my head.
I can see them in my mind’s eye when I record. I tell them stories about my life. I laugh with them. Sometimes we even cry together.
It wasn’t until I braved the frigid Idaho winter and ventured out to actually converse with real human people that I realized I had a problem. I had been in the cave for so long, interacting with my virtual world, that I was completely uncomfortable with people.
How could this have happened? Just a year before, I was traveling the country as a public speaker, meeting hundreds of new people every month.
It must have been the lack of sunlight or something.
But that life was long gone. I traded living in the airport terminals and smiling handshakes, for diaper duty and macaroni and cheese. Oh, and the cave too. And I never looked back.
And then I realized it. In the dark pit of despair that happens during any creation, on a day when I questioned most of the choices I had ever made, and wondered if anything would ever come of my wishful dreams, I knew why the Wizard won.
He got to come out from behind the curtain. He no longer hid behind the larger-than-life projection of him on the screen. He was forced to just be a person. And in so doing, he found his power.
This victory might only be understood by those who have created. Those who have ventured into that brutal realm of extracting the lucid thoughts from their hearts and painstakingly turning them into something others can see.
But really, we are all creators. In one way or another we all turn the thoughts that swirl through our heads into the lives we live. And we all live behind this curtain.
Mothers live behind the children they create. Men live behind their titles. We mask ourselves with clothing. We hide inside of our vehicles. We button ourselves up in our houses. We desperately cling to the thin façade that we have it all together. And when people get too close we bark, much like the Wizard: “pay no attention to that man behind the curtain”.
And for the most part, we live in a state of perpetual powerlessness.
Just like the Wizard.
See, Dorothy was going to get home eventually. She wanted it bad enough. She didn’t need the Wizard for that.
The tin man had more heart than most real people.
The lion was a walking example of courage, because he moved forward one step at a time in spite of the fear that gripped him.
And the scarecrow… well, he was a real nice guy, and I still don’t remember what his problem was… (Funny how our brain works. A little song has been jingling through my mind as I write this. It goes like this: “da-da da-da da-da-da…. If I only had a brain…”)
The Wizard didn’t have the power to give them any of the things they thought they needed. And especially not from behind the curtain.
The Wizard’s power was in reminding others of their greatness.
And he found it when he came out from behind the curtain.
And so will you.







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