What’s the Difference?

Niagara Falls – the waterfall, not the city. It’s quite a thing to see. The water flows over at more than a quarter of a million gallons per second. When the water hits the rocks below, it hits at like a million pounds of pressure per square inch. I’m not checking these facts because I lived there, and that’s what I was told to tell the tourists when I was a tour guide. Even if it is incorrect, it has to be close. And most people don’t know this – but the waterfall is actually moving backward. Just like the friction of the ocean makes the rocks you find on the beaches smooth, the stone the water flows over is wearing away just the same.

I lived on the left side of this thing. Canada is on the right.

A million years from now, the city of Niagara Falls will no longer be home to the waterfall. Its relocation is inevitable – for those rocks will erode until there is no waterfall at all. And there’s something to say about this geological thing.

Have you ever noticed that our most celebrated heroes are the ones who were supposed to lose, but they didn’t? When I decided to write this piece, I carried around a sticky in my pocket, and anytime one came to mind, I’d write their name on it – just for this paragraph. In athletics, Michael Jordan and Mohammad Ali. In politics, Nelson Mandela. Flat out amazing – Malala. Even the magical writer of Harry Potter – J.K. Rowling. Robert Downey Junior has a great story. And then there’s my lesser-known fave – Viktor Frankl – the writer of potentially the greatest book of all time (Man’s Search for Meaning) – all seemingly rocks that refused to erode.

If you ever read Man’s Search for Meaning, you only have to read the first half of the book – about his experience in the World War II Nazi death camps. The second half of the book is about a type of therapy that isn’t quite as interesting.

Erode and erosion are funny words. Because at some point, they stopped being about geology and started being about everything else.

The odds are 100% that you’ve witnessed eroding health – and whether you like it or not, yours is eroding even as you read this sentence. There’s also a 1:1 correlation between age and the erosion of relationships, because they don’t all age like fine wine. Then there are our unique circumstances – like purpose, reputation, and standards.

And most terribly…hope.

On Sunday, I was listening to some people talk. One of them, explaining one of life’s troubles, said three words that caught my attention. As soon as I heard them, I latched on instantly and couldn’t let them go. At first, why did he say that? Then…wait, everybody says that. And then it came to me that as soon as a person says these three words, the next thing that they think or do is – more often than not – the exact wrong thing to do, or to have done.

By the end of the day, I concluded that these words were dangerous. Consider this post to be an APB – because when you hear a person say, “What’s the difference?” if you care about that person, you kind of have a job to do.

Those words don’t come out angry or loud. They come out smooth, because the story leading up to them has them making perfect sense.

What’s the difference if I call in sick? If I stay quiet? If I walk away, stay in bed, lie, cheat, have one more.

You get the picture.

It doesn’t start with collapse. It starts with permission. “What’s the difference?” isn’t a question at all. They are just three words that give erosion a voice. They are a conclusion. “What’s the difference?” shows up right around the thousandth cut – for a person about to experience death by a thousand cuts. A question that equates to: it just doesn’t matter.

But it does.

The famous people I mentioned earlier aren’t just special because of their achievements. They’re special because they decided they’d erode like the falls – by just a millimeter or two per year. The falls won’t wake up tomorrow and say f*** it, then collapse all at once – even though that water is coming at a clip that’s nearly unmatched on planet earth. The water’s been flowing since just after the ice age, and it’s going to keep flowing – at least until the next one.

When someone says, “What’s the difference?” they’re signaling fatigue. Or perhaps frustration. “What’s the difference?” equals one too many hits. If you care about the person who says it, as soon as you hear it, you’ve got work to do.

Don’t ignore it. Don’t agree with it. Skip the lecture. The mouth that says it is the part of the body that lets us know the mind has had enough.

So I’ve been thinking about what to do…what to say when I hear it next. How can I be the difference between the bad decision to follow and the way better, alternate ending to the same story?

That’s how I decided to bring it back to the Falls – the place where I grew up. The water is the challenge. The eroding rock is the person. It’s a tough one, because our best friends usually agree with us, even when we’re wrong. And that’s why we’ve got to stop for a minute when it’s said.

Listen. Think. Be present. And at the same time disagree, then believe. And then it is simple. Just say, “The difference is you.” And then tell them why you know this is true.

Just like Niagara Falls doesn’t move in a day, people don’t fall apart in a day either. And they don’t come back in a day. It’s all movement over time, in one direction or the other. Sometimes the job isn’t to fix everything or save someone. Sometimes the job is just to stand there with them and remind them that there is a difference – right here, right now – and that it’s enough.