Life is a difficult and confusing place, filled all manor of pitfalls and hardships. Some people find a source of comfort to help them navigate its twist and turns, something for them to cling on too when times get tough and they lose their way. Many people find religion, others commit themselves to their work. For me, it has always been a Code.

When I was younger I decided that I wanted my life to mean something and to have value. I realized that it would be too easy to lie and cheat my way through life, too easy to ignore the simple things. It was this fear of waste that prompted me to dedicate myself to my Code. It's not something glorious or high-flying and it probably won't help me win any Nobel Peace Prizes, it's just a simple set of rules that I live by to give my life more meaning. Some times I miss up or break the rules, but most of the time I do a pretty good job of following it. It is my hope that my following this code I will give my life more meaning and enjoy it that much more.

I know it's hard to believe, but when I was a little kid. I acted like a brat. I don't mean the cute little dolls that the girls play with kid of Bratz, I mean the kind of kid that is rotten and doesn't get along with anybody because they've got their own problems going on. At the time I didn't really realize what snot I was being, my mom did, but for me it never registered. I would lie, make up stories, steal toys, brag and generally just believe that I was the greatest little thing on god's green earth.

This time in my life is kind of fuzzy, my mom still reminds me, and only on specific memory comes to mind. My cousin, Sarah, was babysitting my brother and I while my mom was away for the night and I was feeling particularly snottish. My mom had dictated that we were only to be rationed one cookie apiece, not a crumb more or we'd ruin our dinner. Well, I had decided that one was not good enough for my cultured pallet and that it was my duty to acquire a second. I waddled up to my cousin, pulling on her skirt tail and putting on my best puppy face saying, “Mommy said I could have a second one.” She looked confused and asked me if I was sure. After I reassured her she went to away and returned with my prize in hand. I snatched it from her without a second thought and scurried away to resume my play with the cookie already being chewed. I went on with the night not thinking about the experience, assuming that by some miracle I had gotten away with my trickery.

However, I was in for an unpleasant surprise. When my mother returned home I was seated down on the couch and asked about the evening. She asked if I had been a good little boy and if I had done anything bad while she was away. It was at this moment that the lie came swinging back to hit me, just as the ball of a pendulum comes back around on its turn. As Sarah informed my mother about the night's deception I saw the bindings of my clever little plan coming undone. It was difficult to imagine that I could be out smarted and caught within my own tale; I had woven it so incredibly tight.

Of course I was reprimanded and punished for this event and I clearly remember doing similar acts after that, but for some reason or another this example still stands out to me as the moment when I learned lying is wrong. Maybe it was the disappointment in my cousin's voice, maybe it was the guilt I felt for my trickery. I was uncertain as to why I would feel guilty for something that had done me good; I had gotten a cookie out of it. Now I understand where my guilt came from, it was the result of a person who has lied to achieve a specific prize. By cheating your way through life you step on the toes of those you care about and lose the feelings of accomplishment that would accompany success. Many of our greatest leaders were honest, caring men who do their best to live a code. Hopefully one day I will be one of these men.