When I was approaching sixteen, it was still important, and even “cool,” to get your driver’s license as soon as possible. In my case, it was extra important, since we were about to move, and I’d need to drive to continue going to the same high school.
No pressure.
Looking back, I’m surprised by the approach I took. It’s an approach that has served me well throughout life.
It’s easy to believe that friendships, once established, will last forever, or at least a very long time. Particularly when we’re young, there’s little evidence to the contrary.
And then we grow up.
Everyone seems to assume there’s just one definition of “love”: theirs.
One person’s quest to love is another’s heinous act.
And no, this isn’t a sex thing.
It’s a religion thing.
Does love mean accepting people or saving their souls?
Cancel culture isn’t new; we’ve done it since humanity’s dawn. It’s critical to a functional society. The fact it seems special lately is due to a) a new name and b) faster and wider communication.
I ran across this comment via social media the other day.
You don’t have to approve of other people’s choices. You don’t have to like their hair color, their tattoos, or their piercings. You don’t need to agree with their style of dress or how tight their leggings are. You’re not required to agree with their non-traditional lifestyle or their relationship decisions. And you don’t need to like their religion, faith, or spiritual beliefs. What you DO need to do is respect that other people don’t have to live by your rules, because they’re no more important or relevant than anyone else’s. Acting like a decent human being and letting people live their lives should be an easy decision for everyone.
Here’s the problem: if you understand what “they” believe and why they believe it, you’ll quickly see it’s not an easy decision. Not at all.
When I started 7 Takeaways, my intent was to force myself to read more, better content, by establishing a weekly public deadline where I’d publish something about the items I had come across.
Three and a half years later, I’d say it’s been working. I haven’t missed a week (though there have been a few Saturday cram sessions), and I’ve come across some interesting stuff.
And I have 600+ subscribers to whom I feel a responsibility.
What’s interesting, though, is that it hasn’t affected me in quite the way I expected.
Have you ever looked at someone and thought to yourself: huh. Something’s a little off.
Nothing bad, really, just … different.
Not quite right. Not quite normal.
Maybe they’re a little eccentric in some way.
Perhaps you’ve said to yourself (or, *cough*, your spouse) “well, they’re certainly an ‘odd duck‘”.
Have I got news for you.
I’m fairly convinced my mother died before she had to because of the stress of taking care of my father, who had dementia.
While trying to be everything to her husband, she failed to take care of her own needs and her own health. The result was not just that she passed away too soon, but even in her own eyes she passed away before what she saw as her job was complete. My father outlived her by four and a half years.
We all want to live a long and healthy life. We want to be the ones making it far through the bell curve of life expectancy. I know I do.
There’s an unanticipated problem with succeeding.
Is it possible to be simultaneously content and passionate about something?
By content, I mean in the Buddhist sense of acceptance of the present moment.
By passionate, I mean wanting something more, and feeling strongly about it.
It’s something I wrestle with.
It almost feels trendy to talk about anxiety these days.
In part, I suppose, because it’s become more prevalent due to the pandemic, and politics, and social media, and, and, and …
But has it though? Has become more prevalent, or just more visible?
Based on my experience I would say: why not both?
A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.
Which step?
Which step is the first step?
Where does the journey begin?
It’s not uncommon for people to pick a theme or a word for the new year. I’ve been seeing a few over the past few days as we enter 2023.
It’s not something I’ve ever done. I tend not to do the New Year’s resolution thing. To quote a friend: “I long ago realized I didn’t have to wait for an arbitrary date to make changes in my life”.
However, this year a few things have come together in a moment of serendipity that’s making me think a theme might be in order.
“Every day is an experiment” (also “everything is an experiment”) is a mantra, of sorts, I adopted some years ago. It’s a mental model I find both freeing and empowering.
Treating the world, or life, with the idea that everything you do is an experiment of some sort to be learned from is also an exceptionally powerful path for growth.
It was in our faces the entire time. Right there in the lower left.
Perhaps the most important piece of life advice ever was provided by Microsoft, and we didn’t even realize it.
And then they took it away. We still call it a “Start” button, but the text admonition has disappeared.
Deity: Hello. Welcome. <spreads celestial “hands”>
me: uh … hi. Where am I?
Deity: What’s the last thing you remember?
me: Going to bed, I think. Yeah, that and a weird dream after I fell asleep. And then, all of a sudden, here.
Deity: uh huh.
me: Am I … ?
Deity: Are you …?
me: Am I … dead?
I don’t have that many particularly significant places on this planet. Those that would be are the “places” that are less about locations than they are about who happens to be there (i.e. “wherever my wife is”, “my close relative or friend’s current home”, and so on). These kinds of places can change as people move.
The more traditionally meaningful places have all fallen by the wayside. Significance has faded over time. The places themselves have fallen in to disrepair or become virtually unrecognizable. In perhaps my most personally significant case, they’ve disappeared completely.
One of the thoughts brewing in recent months, particularly because of my writing exercise, is the value of time.
I know, I know, it’s old hat, a cliché even, that time is our most precious resource. Except, it’s true. Nothing’s driven that home more than:
All this is leading me to be significantly more aware of where and how I spend my time.
Or, rather, where and how I choose to spend my time.
That it’s a choice is, perhaps, the most important point.
When we’re young, it seems we conflate wisdom with knowledge. The more you know, the wiser you must be. Thus, the quest is to know as much as you can.
As we age, we slowly begin to realize that wisdom is also about understanding what you don’t know. In a sense, I suppose, that’s more knowledge. The quest becomes to be more self-aware about what you do and do not know. Perhaps you then use that as a guide to increase your knowledge, or to understand your limitations and, with that understanding, make better decisions.
At some point, though, wisdom is none of that.
It’s funny how we assign meaning and even sentimentality to inanimate objects.
Consider the mug shown above: it’s actually quite meaningful to me. So much so that at one point I actually stopped using it for fear of breaking it. As a result, I never saw it and it remained in a relatively obscure location.
Last year I came to the conclusion that that was kinda silly, and placed it back into service.
This morning I realized that it’s not just the mug we set aside for some odd perception of safety and desired permanence.