Swan through life by getting to like your ugly duckling

In the children’s story, the ugly duckling, who is actually a swan but doesn’t yet know it, is mocked by the other ducklings. Eventually, though, the ugly duckling blossoms and soars off into the skies, leaving all that unpleasantness behind.

Fairy tales are often like this. You don’t have to stay as you are: some brilliant future, now hidden, awaits. Snow White and Cinderella, for instance, married princes, which is taken to be a good thing – we don’t know how it worked out afterwards but the assumption is that the swan and the princesses lived happily ever after.

But what if the ugly duckling remained an ugly duckling and quite liked being a an odd-seeming duckling and, later, a duck? There is a version, presumably made up for motivational teaching, in which the duckling looks up at the swans crossing the sky and says, “Oh, they’re swans, they have nothing to do with us” and goes back to pecking in the dust. That version of the story was told to convey the idea that the ugly duckling had missed a big opportunity.

I don’t agree. A major ingredient in happiness, it seems to me, is to develop a liking for whoever you already are.Who you already are is who you are likely to be living with for quite some time.

Singing her praises

By all means turn into a swan and marry a prince if that’s what you want, and if there’s one available, but most of us won’t be doing that and it will make a major difference if we can manage to like ourselves.

In an Italian restaurant in Berlin recently the waitress burst into song occasionally. When we complimented her singing voice she acted surprised. “I’m a singer,” she said. “But when I’m working here I just like to sing for myself.” So to us she was a waitress who sang, while to herself she was a singer who waited on tables.

Lots of us are like this: we are not whatever it is we work at – we are someone else. This meets some need in human beings to identity with something over and above the ordinary.

If she is still a waitress in 20 years time, though, I hope she will like the person who is a waitress and who never made a living out of singing.

I love it when I see people’s dreams fulfilled. But people who like themselves as they are may have an edge when it comes to pursuing ambitions: because they know they will go on liking themselves no matter what happens. They can take a chance on trying and failing.

And if you don’t try? All the more reason to cultivate a liking for who you are now if that is who you are likely to continue to be.

Making it clear

On another note, the death of the former broadcaster and PR guru Tom Savage reminded me of the importance of asking people questions while they are still around to answer them. When I worked an overnight shift in RTÉ, I enjoyed listening to Tom talking whenever I ran into him holding forth in the canteen. One morning as I sat down he was finishing a point: "The most important thing," he concluded, "is always to clear the lines." I was very impressed by this and often repeated it to myself afterwards. I had left RTÉ by the time I realised that I hadn't a clue what this impressive statement meant. Never mind, I could always ask when I met him next.

We never met again – apart from him jumping out from behind a rack of coats in a trendy clothes shop one day and cackling gleefully that "the poverty correspondent of The Irish Times" (that was me) was buying a pricy suit. Then he disappeared behind the coats and I never met him again. "Always clear the lines" still seems to me to be great advice. I still don't know what it means and now I will never know.

Padraig O'Morain (pomorain@yahoo.com) is accredited by the Irish Association for Counselling and Psychotherapy. His latest book is Mindfulness for Worriers. His daily mindfulness reminder is free by email. Twitter: @PadraigOMorain