I suspect you’ve heard of “The Peter Principle,” from the best-selling 1969 book bearing that title–the observation that, in most organizations, people get promoted to their highest level of incompetence.
Here, however, is “Peter’s Principle.” In fact a way of living worth carrying into this New Year, one that would likely do a lot of us a lot of good.
Peter is twelve years old; his parents are friends of mine. And they describe him as perhaps the most “self-differentiated” person in their family, which also includes a precocious older sister.
In particular, Peter’s parents report that when he wants someone to like him, but he or she–at Peter’s age, it’s still mostly “he’s”–appears not to, Peter is the least likely person to become discouraged with disappointment and/or regret.
“He seems not to be burdened by much of anything–certainly in his interpersonal relations. He just lets it roll off his back. It’s remarkable. Not that he doesn’t care,” they add.
Peter doesn’t, however, seem to care too much. At least, they explain, in a way that diminishes his spirit when whom or whatever doesn’t go his way.
So one day Peter’s mother asked him his secret to such a spunky, thriving and flourishing way of living. This, after Peter had reported that he and one of his buddies had distanced themselves from each other after a disagreement.
“He didn’t seem too upset. Not like I would have been,” she said. “So I asked him, ‘How do you do that? How do you just let it go, instead of hanging on to hurt or resentful feelings?'”
And Peter explained, “It’s like this, mom. You know, when you’re drawing a picture and you realize it isn’t very good; or for whatever reason, you just don’t like it?”
“Yes,” Peter’s mother replied, an image of pencil or crayon or magic marker and paper coming to mind.
“You know how you just crumple it up, toss it in the waste can and start over?” Peter continued.
Except he didn’t need to finish his explanation. His analogy, his metaphor, whatever figure of speech you wish? It was vivid enough.
As it turned out, Peter’s dust-up with his friend didn’t last too long. Soon enough, they were back to being good buddies again.
Do you suppose that was because Peter “let it go”–whatever his negative feelings–sooner than later? That he didn’t allow such negativity to escalate or fester? That he didn’t allow such disappointment or regret to become terminal?
Robert Raines, the Methodist preacher-poet, has a haunting line about how too easy it is to “hug our hurts.”
Unlike Peter and his “Principle.”
His parents, wondering all the while, “Where did this kid come from?”
“Out of the mouths of babes . . . .”
