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.
This has happened too many times to count: I get a great, or not-so-great, idea I want to act on later.
The problem is I’m not in a position to write it down or save it in some way.
Let’s face it, “I’ll remember it later” is not a valid answer.
Especially as I age.
These are scary times.
Angry times.
Frightening times.
Sad times.
Anxious times.
Fetal position not wanting to get out of bed times.
Needing to work on it all to stay sane times.
The trick, for me, is identifying what’s under my control, and what isn’t.
Focus on the former and let go of, or at least don’t dwell on, the later.
I don’t always succeed.
Back in the day when I would look for a new position within Microsoft, one of my guiding questions was “what can I learn?” It was one of several criteria I used to evaluate opportunities. Rather than move to a new position doing the same thing, I preferred to find roles where I could both contribute and learn something new.
There wasn’t a plan, really; I wasn’t looking for something specific. I would just look at a job opportunity and see if there was something interesting for me to pick up. I think my career, both during, and post-Microsoft has benefited as a result.
It comes to mind because that approach feels like a huge opportunity in these “interesting” times.
This is not a meditation post, I promise.
Most meditation practices have you focus on your breath as part of the exercise. It’s always there (we hope), it’s always changing just a little, and it’s relatively easy to focus your attention on it. Some practitioners will say focus on where you feel it “the most” — being your stomach, your lungs, whatever.
When the monkey-mind isn’t successful in dragging me away from it, I focus on my sinuses. I find it absolutely fascinating what happens when I do.
In recent weeks I’ve run across at least two essays — one from a writer whom I respect greatly — that call into question those of us that try to maintain and share a positive outlook during these turbulent times.
The message seems to boil down to this: if you have the option of expressing some amount of positivity then you’re clearly not paying attention to what’s going on around you.
I beg to differ,
I’ve been meditating on and off, though mostly on, since the summer of 2010 when I purchased a copy of 8 Minute Meditation: Quiet Your Mind. Change Your Life, by Victor Davich. It was an appealing, secular approach to meditation that helped me get started.
Several years ago I installed both the Headspace and Insight Timer apps on my phone. They’ve been my go-to tools for meditation ever since; Headspace for Andy Puddicomb’s gently guided meditations, and Insight Timer for those times when I’m just looking for a “do it myself” approach. Both are great, though it’s Headspace I’ve purchased for others as gifts.
What I realized, through, is that when it comes to guided meditation — the phase I happen to be in currently — I kinda suck.