Magic Feathers

When I was a kid, I once saw a red flare burning at the scene of an auto accident. Two wrecked cars idled in the middle of the intersection as police investigated the collision and directed traffic. With the traffic lights flashing yellow, I naturally concluded that the flare was the burning ember of the red stoplight, which had somehow fallen out onto the street, resulting in the confused drivers colliding. Encyclopedia Brown, I was not.

We humans are uncanny in our ability to find patterns within randomness — as if trying to tame chaos by making it a knowable, a predictable mental model that explains arbitrary events. We see correlated events and reflexively assume cause-and-effect relationships.

I think that tendency helps explain “magic feather” syndrome. If you’ve seen the Disney animated classic Dumbo, you know what I’m talking about: Timothy Mouse, desperate to convince Dumbo to fly, gives him a feather that supposedly allows the elephant to soar above the ground. In one sense, the feather works, giving Dumbo the confidence he needs to try. Still, he sees the feather as the cause of his newfound abilities. Only later, when he loses the feather, does Dumbo realize that he had that power in himself all along.

Sometimes I cling onto my own magic feathers, looking for someone to validate my talent, appearance, intelligence, and so on — basically, my sense of self-worth. Without the magic feather of recognition and admiration, I begin to doubt myself. Or worse, I jump through hoops to gain the approval of someone I hope might give me that validation. I see my worthiness as the result of someone deeming me worthy rather than my worthiness being the cause of their acknowledging it. When you feel worthwhile only when other people affirm it, you’ll do anything — break boundaries, lower your standards, betray others — to get it.

That’s a lot of power to hand over to other people. I’m slowly recognizing that weakness. The irony of ego-stroking: those times when I was drunk on others’ affirmation were the times I grew the least, or even reverted. Personally, professionally, spiritually — you name it. While I don’t blame myself for not realizing it at the time (you rarely sense growth or regression when you’re in the midst of it), I do intend to use that knowledge moving forward.

Dumbo didn’t need a magic feather to soar. Neither do you.