The Art of the Possible

In this episode, The Art of the Possible . . .

Politics is The Art of The Possible. My first introduction to that statement during a Philosophy class was The Prince, by Niccolò Machiavelli.

Machiavelli's The Prince, published in 1532, is a political treatise that offers rulers advice on gaining and maintaining power. It is often considered a controversial work due to its candid exploration of the tactics and strategies that can be employed to achieve political success.

Three key themes in The Prince include:

The nature of power: Machiavelli argues that power is essential for political stability and that rulers must be willing to use force and deception to maintain their authority.
The importance of virtue: While Machiavelli acknowledges the importance of virtue, he also emphasizes that rulers must be willing to compromise their moral principles to achieve their goals.
The role of fortune: Machiavelli believed that while human action is essential, fortune also significantly determines political outcomes.

Does all this sound too familiar?

Now, I’m not one to profess a political preference, mainly because throughout my 40 years as an educator, there was always controversy between Republican and Democratic values that, quite frankly, I never took the time to understand. “Leave it to the politicians; mind your own business.” That was my sentiment. My job was to present facts, figures, and formulas to help students learn to think for themselves. What impact would this “small town” boy have on society anyway?

Growing up in a small, Midwestern town in Illinois, we learned about American Independence, the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution of the United States, and the Revolution. We recited the Pledge of Allegiance every morning in grade school and learned the values of honesty, integrity, hard work, and willingness to help our neighbors. My mother and I immigrated from France in 1959, and we were both asked to learn English to fit in with our small rural community.

So, how do you fit in when you barely speak the language? You smile and bring joy to people's lives by finding ways to help them overcome obstacles and challenges. It doesn't need to be earth-shattering. My mother picked apples at the local orchard, cleaned others' homes, and worked in the local grade school as a cook to help provide meals for children. She always minded her own business, primarily out of fear of not being accepted. I shoveled snow, mowed the neighbor's yard, and delivered the local newspaper. By serving the community in our small way, we were welcomed and loved by our neighbors, the extended family she nurtured, and the friends we made over a lifetime of humility, honesty, and dedication.

So, what is the art of the possible? During my time at GIA, my good friend Tawfic Farah, who passed in 2013, stated it this way: “The Prince is about power,” he said, “It’s about walking over people, clawing your way up the ladder, you were in Florence, you saw his tomb - even Machiavelli died, we all will. Power corrupts people. The art of the possible is working with people, finding people you can trust, and allowing them to make mistakes. We all make mistakes. And when we do, never pass the blame; take the responsibility. But, when you do what you love and are given the opportunity to do–silently, quietly, with integrity and no fanfare, you will discover the art of the possible.

In 2024, we can choose how we move forward as a people. I’m not telling anyone how to vote; that’s not my place or anyone’s place. I’m asking you what your values are and what you believe. Do you think that serving others fulfills a place in your life that helps you grow and prosper? Or do you want to be told what to do by rulers who, since Machiavelli's time (1532), have used power to control people through religion, persecution, fear, fanning flames of hate and violence, reflecting misery of people who blindly worship people who have wealth, and use their positions to enhance their power?

The historian and moralist Lord Acton expressed this opinion in a letter to Bishop Mandell Creighton in 1887: "Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.”

Over the past few weeks of political conventions, I've realized–through others’ stories–the valuable lessons instilled in me by my mother, my father’s example, and my friend Tawfic during my upbringing in a small Midwestern community. They taught me that "The Art of the Possible" involves working with people you can trust, allowing them to make mistakes, taking responsibility for your own mistakes, and pursuing what you love silently, quietly, and with integrity.

It’s my hope that you have, too! If you look in the mirror, you will likely see that you, too, have embraced the art of the possible in your community. And it has nothing to do with politics.

I'm Patrick Ball; thanks for listening. See you in the next episode.

Paris – the End of Silence

✈️ In this special episode: Paris – the End of Silence Sometimes, connection arrives in the most unexpected form—not through grand gestures, but through a quiet voice carried by technology. In a Paris apartment, I finally understood my family’s words . . . and felt my mother’s presence in every sentence. Since I was a little boy, France has been both a beautiful and frustrating paradox in my life. Every six to nine years, my mother, Mauricette, would take my brothers and me back to La Rochelle to visit our French family. The moment we arrived, the air would fill with a sound I loved but couldn’t share in—the rapid-fire, musical rhythm of French. My aunts, uncles, and cousins would warmly sweep me into hugs and kisses, their words flowing like a lovely melody I couldn’t quite catch. I’d smile brightly, trying to communicate with my eyes and hands. But as soon as we stepped off the plane, my mother and her sister-in-law, Joséan, started talking animatedly. They were gone, chatting h...

Pushing the Pause Button

In this episode, Pushing the Pause Button: Stepping Off the Treadmill Hello, friends — If you're reading this, I'm already off the grid. Today begins a much-needed vacation, and for the next few weeks, On the Fly is taking a break right along with me. For a long time, my inner voice has said, 'Keep every commitment, no matter what.' That's meant early mornings, long days, and a calendar packed with posts, podcasts, and projects I couldn't seem to say no to. I've been trying to be the tireless workhorse—but that kind of grind doesn't end well. Lately, I've noticed I'm not quite myself—shorter fuse, louder sighs, and a few too many grumbles (Lori deserves a medal). That's when you know it's time to hit pause before the spark burns out. So, I'm stepping back to rest, recharge, and remember what it feels like to not live by the next deadline: no tech, no to-do lists, just some space to breathe. Thank you, truly, for all your support and ...

Noirmoutier: An Ocean Between Us, Gone in a Moment

In this episode, Noirmoutier: An Ocean Between Us, Gone in a Moment. Sometimes love waits half a century for its moment — and when it finally arrives, time doesn’t stand still; it disappears. The moment I stepped off the train in Nantes, it felt like time froze. There she was — my cousin Michèle — waiting on the platform, arms waving desperately. When we finally embraced, the fifty years that had passed between us disappeared in an instant. The melody in her voice was the same, but softer than I remembered. We both shed tears of joy that only come from love long overdue. “I’m so happy you are here,” she whispered, her voice trembling. Thank goodness for the translation app on my phone, because the conversation began immediately — fast, fluid, and unstoppable. The Frenzy of Catching Up As we drove for about an hour to the tiny town of L’Épine on the Island of Noirmoutier, the words kept tumbling out. Michèle and her husband, Alain, are the most gracious hosts — but my new challe...

Our Journey to Avignon

🇫🇷 Lost in Transition: Our Journey to Avignon (Part 1) When everything that can go wrong—does—sometimes grace still finds you. Our Monday morning trip began on the quiet island of Noirmoutier , where salt marshes and sea breezes whisper of simpler days. From there, our early morning drive was uneventful; we arrived at the Nantes station with plenty of time to spare. From Nantes to Paris Montparnasse, everything went smoothly—so we thought, until it didn't. That's when things started to unravel. If you've never traveled the Paris Metro , imagine a vast underground maze pulsing beneath the city—corridors twisting into one another, trains roaring in and out of the dark, staircases that rise and fall like riddles. It's efficient, yes—but only if you know where you're going. We had over an hour and a half to make our next train to Avignon —plenty of time. Or so we believed. We needed to reach the Gare de Lyon station, where our TGV (high-speed train) was headed south...

On The Fly

Search This Blog