This is the fifth installment of ESEReport.com’s Second Chances blog series.

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It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat. ~ Theodore Roosevelt, 26th President of the United States

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It was a beautiful spring evening in San Jose, California on March 30, 2010. The temperature was in the low 60s on that cloudless day. A Republican multi-millionaire tech executive running for governor named Steve Poizner scheduled a campaign event at Mt. Pleasant High School to announce the publication of his book about his experience teaching one class for one semester at the school. It was a vehicle to launch his education reform campaign.

As president of the East Side Union High School District board, I sent a letter to Poizner prohibiting him from visiting Mt. Pleasant for campaign purposes, citing California law. The book was filled with negative stereotypes about Latino kids and students in general from the east side. The community was in an uproar and planned to protest the candidate’s scheduled book signing later in the evening.

There was a mix of tension and anticipation outside of Barnes & Noble bookstore in Eastridge Mall. About 100 students, staff, and community members gathered there to take a stand against the book and its author. As Poizner approached the side entrance to the store, I asked him to justify his critical portrayal of our students. Unimpressed by his meaningless campaign talking points, I listened intently anyway, unaware of  news reporters that crowded around us. 

The media covered our brief exchange. Every local newspaper and television news crew covered the story. The episode made statewide and national news including stories in the Los Angeles Times and on National Public Radio. Poizner never recovered from that day. His campaign was dead on arrival. It was scary to take on a tech multi-millionaire, but it was exhilarating too! If a heart attack hadn’t stopped my career in its tracks, I would have had a powerful political enemy for life.  

I miss being in the arena.

I’ve loved being in the arena since I was a kid. There was the time I was the winning pitcher in a Little League championship game. The coach ran onto the field toward the pitcher’s mound and lifted me into the air with a big bear hug. My teammates were excitedly jumping up and down around us. A few years later, I stood on the free throw line in a packed gym at James Lick High School. If I made the shot, we would have won the game and been tied for first place. I missed it. It hurt so badly that it felt like my dog died as I walked off the floor.

Some 20-plus years later, I was standing tall in the middle of my campaign office with two-year old Erica in my arms. I had just beat two opponents and won a spot in the 2000 general election for San Jose City Council. The crowd around us cheered as I rallied supporters to get ready for a spirited campaign in the fall. Five months later, a smaller group of just family was gloomy as we sat watching the election returns on TV at a local restaurant. I lost the race in a big way. The crushing defeat took a toll on me.

Win, lose, or draw, I miss being in the arena.

Over the past two months, I’ve been writing on this blog about second chances. I’ve written about how my spiritual and mental health journeys have given me a new perspective on life. Trusting God and living right here, right now have been the guiding lights on this journey. I hope I’ve inspired readers to give faith and living in the moment a try.

Of course everything isn’t hunky dory now that my relationship with God is stronger and mindfulness meditation is part of my daily routine. Far from it. I often wonder if these concepts are really helping me or I’m just trying to convince myself that they do. Some readers are probably wondering about that as well. I know this much to be true. I believe that faith and living in the present moment are the paths to inner peace and happiness. 

Staying with it everyday is the hard part. For every time I put myself fully in God’s hands or experience a Zen moment, there are just as many moments of  uncertainty and doubt. The journey reminds me of that old country song, One Step Forward (Two Steps Back) by the Desert Rose Band. Determination and perseverance are in my DNA. I’ll keep working through it  no matter how many times I take two steps back.

The world is wonderful and life is beautiful. But let’s face it, they’re also harsh. The world that occupies our minds is even harsher. I’ve been through a lot. There’s no sensible reason for me not to be grateful at all times. I get that. But . . . there’s a little corner of my mind that still aspires to be in the thick of things. On a recent trip to the Seattle area, I spoke to a large group of business executives. The feedback and standing ovation stirred my aspirations to get back into the arena. Adrenaline sparked the small section of my brain to scream, “You belong here!”

But then again, there’s something special and serene about leisurely folding towels, laying back on the couch reading, and walking Erica’s puppy. If I sound confused about what to do with this amazing gift of a second chance, you got that right. My situation isn’t unique. We’re all searching for meaning. Since we can’t soften the harshness of the outside world, finding that sweet spot where we can calm the harshness of our inner world is like finding gold.

There is no right answer. Despite stumbling through my faith and mental health journeys, I’m going to keep going. Maybe, just maybe, God has chosen this part of my journey to be the new arena I’m looking for. To be sure, I’ve missed God’s signs for most of my life. Maybe I ought to give doubling down on faith and mindfulness a chance. To paraphrase President Teddy Roosevelt, if I fail, at least I’ll “fail while daring greatly.”