Alexandersmap

    Category: Relationships

    • Holding On To the Precious Few

      “Casting aside other things, hold to the precious few; and besides bear in mind that every man lives only the present, which is an indivisible point, and that all the rest of his life is either past or is uncertain. Brief is man’s life and small the nook of the earth where he lives; brief, too, is the longest posthumous fame, buoyed only by a succession of poor human beings who will very soon die and who know little of themselves, much less of someone who died long ago.”
      ― Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

      In a lifetime we may encounter thousands of people. If you search the Internet you’ll find that the average person meets about 80,000 people in their lifetime. Some of us have met that many people before the middle of our presumed lifespan. But we aren’t here to compete for the most people met in a lifetime, we’re here to make meaningful connections. As the name implies, connections are those people who come into our lives at just the right time with whom we naturally bond with. These are people who transcend the convenience of place and time and become lifetime associates. They are as invested in our well-being as we are in theirs. They are the precious few.

      What forms that bond? Usually something like shared experience, be it the good, bad or ugly. When you go through something with someone that few others would understand, sometimes you become lifetime friends. Then again, sometimes you drift apart never to speak again. Some of the people I rowed with felt like best friends until the diplomas came and I haven’t seen them since. One or the other of us had moved on, and so it goes. Same with old work connections, or fellow soccer parents, or whomever. Something in the moment brings us together, but once it’s gone the bond is gone too. It’s like the Post-It note of friendships: friends of convenience skating that indivisible point of now but not forever.

      And that’s okay too. We can’t very well have 80,000 best friends, or even close associates. We’d simply never have the time to maintain the connection and get anything else done. Most relationships are transactional, and it’s nothing personal, simply pragmatic. We may remember people fondly from our past lives and catch up with them at a reunion one day, or maybe not even that. The few that stick with us are there because they want to be, just as we want to be. Sometimes it’s as simple as that.

      Coming back to that indivisible point that Marcus Aurelius mentioned, we ought to put our full energy into the connections of now. We can’t very well say to ourselves that we’ve got our precious few and that’s enough for me. That next person we meet on the climb to 80,000+ might just be the one who makes all the difference in our lives, or we in theirs. When we make every encounter a moment of connection, we raise the average of our overall experience on this planet. We also find that our few become even more precious as the investment made by both parties naturally increases to meet the place we’ve arrived at in our lives. It always comes back to this: we get what we put into it.

    • Nice, With Nerve

      “It’s not enough to be nice in life. One must have nerve.” — Georgia O’Keeffe

      “I’ve been absolutely terrified every moment of my life and I’ve never let it keep me from a single thing that I wanted to do.” — Georgia O’Keeffe

      The old expression that nice guys finish last isn’t completely accurate, but it ought to include the disclaimer that for nice guys not to finish last they have to show some courage and go after what they want in life. We all see the assholes who ascend to positions of power. They wouldn’t have it any other way, really. Nice people don’t have to be assholes to do consequential things in their lifetime, but they must have courage to push through the walls the world wants to box us in with. We must learn to fight for what we want in our lives.

      We can be nice but still have nerve. Nice people rise too. They just don’t leave as many bruised egos in their wake. Remember this when encountering walls and ceilings placed by assholes, but also by other nice people who meant the best for us. It’s not enough to persist, we also must insist and, just do what calls to us.

      Consequential things don’t just manifest themselves. Those climbs to summits, manuscripts and realizations of dreams require action and the nerve to start. We mustn’t wait another moment! It’s not a departure from identity to be bold, for being nice with nerve is how great things happen in this world.

    • The Past Is Not the Past

      “One of the things the Irish say is that ‘The thing about the past is, it’s not the past.’ [laughs] It’s right here, in this room, in this conversation.” — David Whyte & The Conversational Nature of Reality, On Being with Krista Tippett

      We who experienced it will always remember September 11th for all it was and would be for each of us. For me, September 12th is another day to reflect on, as the day my favorite Navy pilot left this earth. At least that’s the story we tell ourselves, but we know he’s been whispering in our ear ever since then. He’s smiling that scheming smile even as I write this, making it impossible not to smile back at him. He didn’t leave our family for us to mope around forever, but to do something with the life we still have pulsing through our veins. Just make it memorable, I hear him say.

      For those of us who pay attention, the past is not the past. It lives within us, sometimes recessed and awaiting its moment to leap back onto center stage, sometimes stumbled upon as we leaf through old photographs and letters, and sometimes seen in a sideways glance that reminds you of the sideways glance someone else in your past once gave you, demonstrating that they’ve been here all along waiting for that moment to shine a light back to the living. Life energy bounces around in this universe, and sometimes those ricochets hit us squarely when we least expect it.

      To sink into reflection is not to grieve again, not after time smooths the rough edges, it’s to savor the finish, like a fine wine that has aged well. We open the memories like we open up a great bottle of wine, and let it breath awhile before pouring a glass. If we know wine we know to savor the sip, but to appreciate the aftertaste, or finish. The wine has been consumed, but the finish remains. Life is similar, isn’t it? Those who come into our lives become a part of us, and speak through us and others they’ve touched. We hear the echoes of the past all around us, leaving us but still very much here. Alive within us and through us, always.

    • The Hidden Bond

      My memories of him
      are the ones
      of which I am
      most fond.
      And I’m fearful they
      will fade away
      like ripples
      on a pond.
      But then…
      if I’m the pond
      and he’s the stone
      then we share
      a hidden bond.
      For he’s there
      beneath the surface
      if I dare
      to look beyond.
      — Ranata Suzuki, Reflections

      Within each interaction of consequence with another, there is connection hidden in plain sight. We scarcely think of it in the moment, but when we recall the person, the interaction floods back over us in a wave of memory. Life is a series of such interactions, formed with characters in our life play representing long term relationships, the briefest of transactional conversations and those who fall somewhere in between. The key is the bond made in the moment.

      We transcend the physical body through those we leave behind who remember us. How do we scrap together something to fill the void left behind in the absence of those we care deeply for? I think about people who are very much alive but no longer in my life. They remain a part of me even as they fade as the touchstones grounding me to place and time. Those who have passed occupy a similar place in memory, without the possibility of reunion one day. And that’s where we feel the loss—in the absence of future possibility.

      Someday, when I leave this lifetime, perhaps those I leave behind will leave this small poem on the memorial cards given out on such occasions. A reminder that while I may no longer be there I’m very much at the party, buying them a drink and prompting a story about that time when, examples of looking beyond the surface and finding that we’re still there, if only in spirit and those blessed memories. Hidden bonds continue on for as long as those who remember them do. Questions of whether this is our only pond together are meant to be answered beyond this surface.

    • Illusions of Someday

      First thing we’d climb a tree
      And maybe then we’d talk
      Or sit silently
      And listen to our thoughts
      With illusions of someday
      Cast in a golden light
      No dress rehearsal
      This is our life
      — The Tragically Hip, Ahead by a Century

      It’s no secret that we ought to stop deferring the living of our lives for the illusion of someday. We see the changes in each other and it makes us both feel strange, as Bonnie Raitt put it so beautifully. And seeing the changes around and within us, the urgency to make the most of now burns hotly in our souls.

      I write this in an airport, awaiting my flight, after sending off my daughter on her own flight an hour before mine. That we’re both flying out of the same airport with an hour of each other is serendipitous, that we’re flying to different destinations unfortunate. Such is life: I bought her a sandwich for the flight and hugged an until next time.

      We may look at life flying along and try our best to hold on for dear life. Alternatively, we might simply enjoy the blessing of each moment together and position ourselves well for another day, someday, when we may pick up where we left off. Today will slide into the past just as surely as all the rest. What will we remember of it?

    • Someone Great

      “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” — Maya Angelou

      I had the opportunity to attend a 40th anniversary party this weekend. I married into the family well after they got married so I wasn’t around for that beginning, but I’ve seen them grow into their relationship, raise children into adulthood and seek out lifetime adventures together. They’re living a life together one should aspire to—present in each other’s lives, adventurous and fun, travelers who arrive in the lives of others when it matters most.

      I’m not the sharpest tack in the drawer, but I know a good thing when I find it. Being someone great in the life of one other life is a great starting point for building a long term relationship. Being great in the lives of your children builds a strong foundation from which they may grow into personal excellence themselves. Being a great friend to someone who is great leads to reciprocal growth for both parties.

      We may dilute ourselves only so much before there’s nothing great left of us. We feel when we’ve entered a vacuum devoid of reciprocity. We must be a friend to the world while understanding that the world will not always be our best friend. The way to stay filled is to find people who return the love and energy we give back to us. Life energy is finite, but infinitely available when we wade into the right stream.

      The trick to any great partnership is sustained momentum built on being present, engaged and equally invested in a hopeful future. For every stumble, there’s a hand lent to getting back up again, for every step forward there’s a hand to lift the other forward with us. Hand-in-hand we may thus move forward through this life together.

    • The Gods Wait

      your life is your life
      don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
      be on the watch.
      there are ways out.
      there is a light somewhere.
      it may not be much light but
      it beats the darkness.
      be on the watch.
      the gods will offer you chances.
      know them.
      take them.
      you can’t beat death but
      you can beat death in life, sometimes.
      and the more often you learn to do it,
      the more light there will be.
      your life is your life.
      know it while you have it.
      you are marvelous
      the gods wait to delight
      in you.
      — Charles Bukowski, The Laughing Heart

      I revisited some old characters this week. Some were people I hadn’t seen in some time, met with lunch in between us and life’s hurdles to compare. Some were characters invented in my head and tapped into flesh on the keyboard. Like the people I had lunch with, I haven’t visited with them in some time and there’s a chance I might not see them again anytime soon. We live the life we invest ourselves into. The gods wait to delight in you.

      I’ve become my father in some ways. I don’t check in with the kids as much, but I’m there for them when they wish to reconnect. I recognize the folly in this through the distance between my father and me before he finally slipped into dementia. Where is the light in our lives but in our children and the person we share our days with? I stay connected in small ways, to let them know I’m thinking of them. My bride has entire text conversations with them that I only hear about as an executive summary. We spend 90% of our time with our children before they leave the house. We must hold on to that remaining 10% for dear life.

      We dance with light in our days or we are wrestled into darkness. We must choose light, and be a source of it for the people in our lives who need it the most. Connection is so hard to maintain when we all have so much to do in our brief time, but it’s the essence of a joyful and meaningful life. When these days are well behind us and all we have are fragile memories of our time together, will we smile at the recollection of the light between us or see the gap? The gods will offer us chances.

    • Solitude and Service

      “He who delights in solitude is either a wild beast or a god.” — Friedrich Nietzsche

      I recently spent some time on an island, and fancied what it might be like to live there. A boat could bring me back to civilization as needed for provisions and conversation. The rest of the time? Blessed solitude. Libraries of books being read and re-read. Volumes of prose written. Time to meditate on the meaning of life. Processing elbow room for the mind and soul. Wonderful, sacred solitude.

      It’s nice to ponder, but I suspect I wouldn’t be truly fulfilled in a life of solitude. I feel another gravitational force pulling me in the other direction. My attention always comes back to a familiar world of contribution to and appreciation for the circle of people who make up my identity beyond the self. For most of us, service to others is our primary purpose.

      Blame it on growing up in a big family or participating in a team sport instead of individual pursuits, but I just seem to be built for social interaction. That doesn’t make my time in solitude any less valuable, but does make it obvious that it’s a now and then thing not an all the time existence. But is it enough?

      The most interesting islands are full of connection to others. Fellow inhabitants, bridges and ferries to connect you to the mainland, Internet and cellular telephone service. Each brings connection for those times when solitude is just too much. We don’t have to live on an island to find solitude any more than we need to be off the island to find connection.

      As with everything, life is about balance. Balance is something we feel, and perhaps the best thing we can do for ourselves is to build a life where we feel our balance between solitude and service are mostly in blessed equilibrium. Surely it’s something to aspire to in our creative, engaged and productive lives. Wherever we may find it.

      Solitude

    • Life’s Good Runs

      “Life is like skiing. Just like skiing, the goal is not to get to the bottom of the hill. It’s to have a bunch of good runs before the sun sets.” — Seth Godin

      We each go through distinct seasons in our lives, not just age-based but in what we are focused on. We look back on them fondly or maybe not so fondly, but we can see exactly who we were at the time and know it brought us to who we are today. School days, sports played, people encountered and cherished for awhile, books read and discussed, career rungs climbed, places visited that seep into our souls—these are all good runs that we remember for the rest of our days. A lifetime may itself be a good run, made up of a series of other runs played by the distinct characters we were at the time.

      I still identify as a rower even though my rowing days on water are far in my past. Millions of meters on a machine in my basement aren’t quite the same, but the feeling of the catch made perfectly resonates across time and place. How many great catches did I have? Who’s to say but we know one when we feel it. Either way, that stroke ends and we recover for the next. Like skiing and life phases the goal is to put together as many good ones as you can in the time allotted.

      At the moment, I’m on quite a run of blog posts, but just last week I was wondering if this particular run was over for me. Not quite yet, but we’ll see how life unfolds. We each have good days and bad days, and with each morning a chance to begin anew. There’s a certain thrill in publishing something just when I thought I’d had enough to say and found some new plot twist to unpack.

      We recognize when we’re in the midst of a good run, just as we feel when a good run is ending. We’ll look with trepidation at the next run wondering whether we’ll enjoy that part of the ride, knowing that there are some things we most definitely won’t enjoy at all. We can’t rush through the bad parts to get to the good parts to come any more than we can hold on to the good parts forever. Life unfolds and we adapt to it and grow. What comes next is important too, but let’s not forget the thrill of the run we’re currently on.

    • Green Grass and Long Conversation

      There’s an old response to the expression “the grass is greener on the other side” that points out that “the grass is greener where you water it.” Being a collector of quotes and poetry, the expression seems to pop in my feed now and then. Today was one of those days, and just before I started to write this blog post. Apparently the student was ready to see it again.

      I begin most summer mornings with a plunge into the pool and a cup of coffee in an Adirondack chair. I know this is a luxury of circumstance and celebrate it for the blessing it is. But I also know that a lot of watering went into this particular grass. To be born at the right time and place is a gift, to use that time and place in such a way that your life is incrementally better each year is a plan well-executed, with a nod to luck and fate for the blessing they’ve bestowed. But it’s simply my moment with these things, nothing more. We must remember that for all it represents.

      Yesterday I took a long walk with my bride and our pup through old neighborhoods she grew up in. The entire four miles was a walking conversation about what was, what is, and what will be. This year marks three decades of such conversations, and we’ve noted the changes in ourselves as much as the people and things around us. Life is change and a bit of selective watering, that we may enjoy our moment in the sun a little more before it’s time to concede it to the next. Memento mori and carpe diem, friends.

      Sitting in that chair, the air a bit cool, I watched the steam drift out of the mug and drift up into the morning sunbeam over my shoulder. The water vapors caught the sunbeam just right and sparkled like fireworks before drifting away to infinity. The days are already getting shorter even as the peak of summer is ahead of us. We may know the fragility of the moment and still look ahead with anticipation. A beautiful life is built on the things that are most fragile, like time and seasons and the people who grace us with this dance.