Earlier in the week, someone complained that we don’t actually own anything. Their focus was on taxes. I didn’t say it out loud, but I wanted to point out that ownership is an illusion. I wanted to point out that their frustration couldn’t possibly change how things are. Even the core of identity, our body and brain, is governed by expiration. It’s not the type of comment that most people enjoy during a conversation. Certainly, we hold things for a few decades if we are lucky. There’s no doubt that everything is borrowed while we’re walking around on this planet.
Almost all of us, no matter what we do or strive for, might end up as a footnote on a Wikipedia page. Once the people we affect are gone, all we can hope for is an echo effect; moments, pieces of our love, wit, or presence that infected others for the right reasons. While I am not a religious person, this sort of thinking always makes me think of Ecclesiastes.
We spend our lives chasing security and possession. Strictly speaking, obtaining either is an illusion. Security is momentary and based on temporary variables that we don’t control. If it can be owned, it can also be taken or lost.
I was told to relearn the lesson of all this. Jumping out of a plane helped. Watching people chase things that give them the feeling of control also reminds me that learned detachment is about the only means to let go of all the musts, shoulds, and nonsense we’ve accumulated.
I’ve been practicing more to remind myself that worry and anxiety are largely based on the desire for control or certainty. Both steal your allotted energy to take in what happens for what it is.
“It is possible to commit no mistakes and still lose. That is not a weakness; that is life.” Captain Picard. I come back to this quote often. Lord knows I am not guilty of doing everything right.
When I went skydiving recently, I signed many waivers, ones that consistently reminded me that I was giving away all control. The back of my parachute harness made this clear; almost anything can happen when you jump out of an airplane. Not just human error but a million mechanical or environmental things. The universe is not a safe place. The truth is that almost anything can happen when you’re on the ground, too. Your organs can spontaneously fail, an invisible aneurysm can surrender, or a vehicle can come from nowhere and turn out the lights without warning. You can wake up to find someone you love has departed, whether through the door or into the unknown place that waits for each of us. A plane can fall from the sky, even if it is piloted by the most expert of those who chose the job or avocation. You can trip on the sidewalk and break your neck, even on a beautiful sunlight-filled day.
I knew in real time when I leaned out of the open plane into the sky that THIS was the moment I’d waited for. Not the 30 seconds of freefall, nor the minutes of floating down with the parachute, watching how everything looks different from such a height. Don’t get me wrong. When the instructor asked me how it was to jump out once we were floating, I enthusiastically shouted, “Holy f@ck!” It was already over by the time I struggled to hold the harness on my chest and keep my arms and head tucked safely. The unspoken thing about skydiving is that you’re going to get back to the ground – one way or another. Likewise, you’re going to end up somewhere in life, even if you don’t make conscious choices.
The next part is tough to admit. I jumped out of selfishness. The day I was in the tree, watching a plane go over, I just knew I had to jump. I waited to be nervous or afraid, even on the long ride up into the beautiful afternoon sky. The only moment that I really wanted was to experience leaning out the door and knowing I had to let go. The moments during and after were window dressing and distractions from wanting to KNOW what would go through my head. It wasn’t fear because it didn’t feel real in the way that we think about reality. It was surrender.
Even if fear had overwhelmed me, I still would have fallen out. Oversimplifying it, the result is the same. There is a lesson in there. The result for each of us is the same, ultimately. It’s the in-between and how we either enjoy the moments or are dismayed by them. Overthinkers and anxious people spend too much time concerned with appearances, control, and things beyond our control. Your face, mind, and body are the ones you have; work with what you have, change what you can, and release the rest of the nonsense into the void. I can preach it because although I understand it, I don’t consistently practice what I preach. That pisses me off.
When you are prone to anxiety or worry, you’re really not seeing that you are trying to be in control of things that aren’t in your domain to do so. Both anxiety and worry take energy and focus away from what it is. Cognitively, I get it. But if you can accept the idea that although you live your life perfectly, the results are not going to be perfect. So why do we expect things to go moderately well when we know we aren’t doing things correctly? There’s nothing you can do about it. This sort of visceral understanding can either mobilize you to action or it can freeze you in your tracks, maybe forever.
I say I jumped out of selfishness because it’s true. I’m hoping that the moment of looking out into the sky clogs my head with the absurdity of worrying about the infinite list of things that cannot be controlled. I’ve been in the headspace before where I was completely detached. It’s liberating, but it is also dangerous.
Only those who have failed will understand the need to understand how much their patterns and reactions affect their relationships. People carry needless wounds and patterns with them to the next relationship. All your previous attempts failed for a reason. Love, X
A local doctor stole babies from birth mothers, telling them that their children had died. And one case in particular… It took decades for DNA to reveal the story. That happened here in Northwest Arkansas. One of my ideas for a Netflix documentary would be to contact the families of every mother, especially single mothers, who gave birth during a specific time period to perform DNA tests and compare them nationally.
Handsome, charismatic men who portray themselves as humble Christian husbands. Yet engage in a cycle of highly sexual affairs. (A story so common it is literally copy and paste.) Another one with a conservative political career who used his position at his work to take advantage of women. There’s a reason so many sexual harassment complaints arise in the workplace. It has built-in inequality that largely negates people speaking up and setting things right.
More than one doctor who openly had mistresses but yet were considered pillars of the community. Who had children with those mistresses.
People I knew who experienced a wild array of trauma. Everything you can imagine. Even though I had my own mostly unknown traumas, some of these people went through much, much worse than I did.
A dentist who preyed on women. Money can lighten any stain or accusation. Rarely do people choose victims whom they consider their equals.
Cops took advantage of people monetarily or sexually. Some used their positions to ruin their victims instead of admitting what they had done.
Coaches who bullied young kids. Or worse.
Teachers who are inappropriate with their students.
Church leaders behaving inappropriately.
A multitude of lawyer stories. Except they are armed and knowledgeable regarding the process of eluding accountability. Mostly. I’ve told the story many times, but one of them went to prison for fixing cases. My parents were among those who benefited from the arrangement.
Last year I had a bad feeling about someone who owned a plumbing company. I used my skills and uncovered a trail of female victims. One leading me across the country.
I had a similar feeling about a neighbor. He turned out to be a previously convicted sexual predator, along with a nice jacket full of criminal offenses.
All of these things have shadows around them.
Most people are good people.
But one thing you have to understand is that your experience with a particular person does not mean they didn’t have a dark side.
Especially upon their passing, if you lionize them, you have to be willing to listen to anyone who has a contrary opinion or experience with them.
It is in darkness and secrecy that people can be duplicitous and lead secret lives out of sight from observers. At least observers who will speak up.
The above examples are stories I know from here in Northwest Arkansas.
When I got involved in learning about the doctor who was stealing babies, I was expecting a reasonable explanation. Instead, I had to sit in the knowledge that someone was capable of ruining a mother’s life in that way. There was no doubt that he had done it to multiple women.
It’s human nature to avoid accountability, just as it’s also our nature to get mad when someone tries to tarnish a family member or someone we admire. Even a cursory look at Mother Theresa and her charity reveals many detestable secrets.
People have different faces for each aspect of their life.
I don’t have a nice bow with which to tie this post up.
There are certainly false accusers.
But there are also victims or people who know the truth about someone.
Each of these people has the right to tell their truth and story.
History and familiarity with people have repeatedly and demonstrably proven that truth is stranger than fiction.
I have several examples from my life in which the truth didn’t come to light for decades. In one, I found the gift of a beautiful and intelligent sister concealed from me. In another, I found proof of the final crime that sent my dad to prison in Indiana in the 60s.
In October 2020, I had a gong go off in my head. One consequence is that after 40-something years, possibly 50, I stopped biting my fingernails. The other result was that I lost a chunk of my body. On purpose, even though a sword chop at times is likely.
Recently, I realized that I had transitioned from nibbling my nails to biting them like a rabid hyena. Looking closely at the photo, you can see the ragged mess I’ve made of my fingers. This is an example of the subconscious and anxiety fighting its way through the layers we use to camouflage ourselves. I don’t know if I will get another gong about my nails. So, I might have to resort to old-fashioned and punitive behavior modification. I could go and drive a few dozen nails with a hammer. My dubious accuracy will result in painful fingertips. I’m not proud that I’ve returned to nail biting. Weirdly, though, I don’t keep it secret. My self-image is acceptance. I rarely get self-conscious. It’s definitely not because I look like George Clooney. My spirit animal is much closer to Danny DeVito. I’d rather post a picture of it than attempt to keep it secret foolishly. For anyone young reading this, no matter what you do, age is creeping up behind you. You wake up one morning and realize that you can’t sneeze without risk of injury and that parts of your face look like road maps.
The second part is the date behind my hand. On March 4th, I decided to put my money where my mouth is and revert to my infallible weight maintenance method. While I was only up to 175, I had recently attempted to motivate someone to start the difficult process of reaching their goal. I hit my March 31st goal yesterday. And I’ll be down 10 more soon enough to return to 160, where I belong. I can’t explain how I have so much confidence in one area of my life yet consistently fail in others. Once you realize the problem is you and in your head, the lever is consistency. I don’t count calories – and not only because I lose count after ten fingers. I eat a lot of unhealthy foods when I’m doing my thing. And I hate the word “unhealthy” in this context. During my recent excursion, I cooked my first filet mignon. No one vomited or passed away as a result, so my effort was at least minimally a success.
So many of us fall into the trap of reminding one another that it’s just a question of mindset. But so many things are complicated. Even though we sometimes act like we’ve been recently hit over the head repeatedly, the truth is that thinking and cognitive ability often lose the war to reality. We know, but we don’t act. Or, more likely, we rationalize. Push it off until later. We all know how that works out.
One of my brilliant ideas is to offer someone the right to smack me in the face if they see my fingers near my mouth. (I surmise people would gladly do it for free and often, so the additional carrot of money is a sure-fire option.) It’s ironic that one of my weight loss mantras is “Don’t put it in your mouth,” yet that won’t translate to me not biting my nails like I’m using an old-school typewriter.
In the I-dodged-another-one part of my life, I found out that my equilibrium issue was caused by an ear infection. They didn’t do a brain scan because the last time, it took them 42 minutes to find mine. As most of you will testify, I usually keep it unplugged anyway. I can’t leave it unplugged long, though. The last three times I tried to live without my brain, I received 16 promotion offers. (Something about being the ideal candidate.) Love, X .
Take all the time you need. It’s infinite, after all, isn’t it? I’ll not take offense at how you apportion it. For in the apportioning, we gauge our importance. The pie is of equal radius for each of us. How we slice it is for us to determine. And for others to wonder why they go hungry in the apportioning. My words sometimes lean towards cynicism. For that lesser emotion, I can only ask for forgiveness. Cynicism is at its heart both frustration and anger. We imagine how things should be or how we wish they would be. Sometimes founded with experience and sometimes amplified by a dark filter we hold in front of our eyes. We judge others for how they slice and apportion their pie. Even as we fail to measure our own. If you are not deliberately apportioning your pie and life and giving your time to the things that matter to you, you’ve lost. You’re supposed to listen to me about some of these things. Because I sit and contemplate my hypocrisy when I write things like this.
You wouldn’t enthusiastically take advantage of another opportunity to return to your youth. Invariably, when discussion of such a fantasy arises, the older giveaway their intentions by framing it in terms of money. Money gives options. But there are few among us who truly shine in the application of appreciating that time and experiences are what makes life worthwhile. Stop telling the younger generation to take advantage. With your wrinkled brow, we see you. Failing to balance the opportunity of the day or the years ahead of you. No one knows when the shadow might darken their door. Your age and experience should push you to squeeze out both simple pleasures and large. The decades behind you paved an infinite path of choices. Just as the young people in front of you might if they’re lucky. It’s hard to expect yolo or carpe diem from the younger generation because we have the disparate expectations of responsibility and stability. For similar reasons, the older among us can’t let go of the stability tethers that we need. Both groups are in the same boat. Regardless, living by example is the best sermon you can give anyone. Words are easy and change is hard. Most of us can’t even gleefully listen to another genre of music without being dismissive. Much less trying new foods, new words, or mindsets that might serve us better. We reach the point where we decide we’re done. Routine and stability bring comfort. But they also suffocate the opportunity to become renewed.
“The ax forgets. The tree remembers.” Once you’ve let someone down, it tends to leave a scar. Once those words escape your lips, they could echo forever to the person hearing them. It’s impossible to know the alchemy in someone’s brain and heart that converts something seemingly inconsequential into a wound. If you speak in anger or through the bravado of substances, though you said or did those words or deeds solely with the desire to inflict pain, these things break both trust and connection. I’ve been both the guilty party and receiver many times. Once words are born into the world or behavior is demonstrated, the ripple effect may be permanent. If you say the words in anger, it demonstrates the urge to cause pain. If you say them under the influence, it is truth exposed only through the virtue of a lack of inhibition. If you commit words or behavior to a chapter in your life without the intention of pain, an apology born in one’s heart is the only place to start. Ears and hearts conceal scars inflicted long ago. And they shape the perspective and outlook of the person receiving them. Love, X
P.S. Parenthetically Speaking 