How To Find Your Forehead

I remember my son noticing his fingers for the first time. It was fantastic. Lying with his back on the living room carpet, his nubby fingers twirled in front of his eyes like a VeggieTales baby carrot dance number. He used those hands to discover his swollen feet and folded his body to feed minion toes to a monstrous mouth (something he had discovered much earlier). Sitting like Buddha in the bathtub one day, he leaned forward to catch a glimpse of his man junk. He couldn’t see the shriveled wet willy past his mountain of a belly, and he kept rolling forward with every attempt. Still, at twelve months, he hasn’t figured it all out. As he hunts down every inch of his tubby self, there is at least one feature he has not yet found. His forehead. It hunkers down in hiding above his eyes.

The poor kid can’t figure out why he is unable to waltz beneath the dinner table. He can see his hands, his feet, his belly, even his junior if he sucks in, but what he can’t see is that ever so stealthy forehead that perches on top like a frightened cat. Imagine the disappointment as he runs ecstatically to the next discovery with wide eyes and an eager smile only to be clotheslined mysteriously. For all he knows, his head stops above his eyebrows. He sees what he sees; what he sees is his reality. His forehead is a blind spot, and being unaware of it, he has achieved many impressive battle wounds.

As a parent, it is an entertaining wonder to watch children become self-aware. It is apparent that the journey of self-discovery starts in each of us as early as only a few months old. But no one can ever become fully self-aware. Like my son’s forehead, we all have our blind spots, those nagging habits in each of our lives that get us into trouble, that hurt us or others, that hide away from our sight while everyone else watches us get clotheslined by life.

As I write this, I wonder what my blind spots are. Certainly this post would be more powerful, influential, and relatable could I write about my personal experience. But, as I sit in my chair, sip a black coffee, and tap away on the keyboard, I can’t think of anything. I can only see what I can see. Like most of us, I tend to favor my own opinions, my own approach, and my own beliefs thinking that I’m generally in the right. But I need community–trusted people in my life to help me address my blind spots so that I can live freely and learn how to be the best version of myself. I think of my wife, my best friends, and older, wiser men as those to whom I could give the opportunity to speak into my life.

This advice is as much for me as it is for anybody: give trusted people the freedom to help you find your forehead. Give them the voice to speak into your blind spots. Welcome them into the journey of self-discovery. We all have our blind spots, and it’s better to recognize them appropriately (and sooner rather than later) than to keep getting clotheslined by life and not know why.


Photo by Juil Yoon on Unsplash

Advertisements

55 thoughts on “How To Find Your Forehead

  1. Very insightful – I am also in need of seeing those blind spots that cause me discomfort even after years of experiencing the same mistakes. I appreciate hearing it in such a gentle way – I should listen to my trusted people.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Your title reeled me in because I know where my forehead is. After reading your post I actually realized that I don’t know WHAT my forehead is. It’s certainly something I have to think about.
    thanks to you and your child!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. This caught my eye tonight after watching my grandson try to stand up underneath the dining room table only to bonk his head, then drop to the floor dramatically. I’m sure you know the struggle of an 11 month old who’s fighting naptime lol

    The rest of the blog was awesome too! Just wanted to give kudos.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. See the two cherubs my younger self is holding? They are now all grown up (daddies themselves) and I can report to you that I can count on them to point out my flaws. Lovingly, I hasten to say. We have a great relationship. But I’d would add that we, most of us, know deep down what our flaws are and work on it without the benefit (no matter how well meant0 of being lectured by others who might not like their flaws pointed out to them in turn, or may not even agree on what our flaws are. That’s human nature.
    Can I say that it’s great to say a dad blog. Wish there were more.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Heyy!

    I thought this was meant as a joke but as I started reading it I was kind of thinking you’d have a bigger/deeper message behind it.
    I never thought about that and it’s really interesting (and funny) how you explained it. It’s weird how you never think about those things and reading this now makes me wonder about what blind spots could be.
    Great post and title, haha!

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s