Okay, so we discussed the woman and the popcorn, so let’s go for another personal experience from this past weekend.
My eleven-year-old son has decided to try his hand at Little League. Saturday was his first game of the season. Now, being that he hasn’t played much baseball in the past (though he did play machine pitch last year) he ended up sitting the bench for a good portion of the game. It’s okay. We knew it was coming. It happens. But the good thing about Little League is that everyone gets to bat at least once, and for my son, he got up to the plate three times throughout the game.
Two strike-outs later, during the last inning, last ups, a tied score, and one runner on third, my boy steps up to the plate. Strikes once, strikes twice, then hits the ball and—surprised—runs and ends up on first. Then stands, shocked, as everyone in the stands screams and cheers, then the team swarms him with high fives and hugs and happiness.
His hit sent the other runner home, scoring the winning point. The game was officially over. Half an hour later, his FB status update told the world about his amazing hit, and he truly felt like the king of the world.
So. In this instance, are our experiences what make us who we are? Or does who we are define how we experience the important moments?