“No matter who you are, you already know what I’m about to tell you: while people aren’t dogs, dogs are happy to see you and respond to you verbally and physically. You can see their joy at seeing you again. That’s why it bothers you when people you enjoy seeing don’t reciprocate with happiness in your presence. It’s a ‘tell’ that belies whatever they say. While they have no tail to wag, their other ‘tell’ communicates their interest or lack thereof. Enthusiasm in your presence is one of the most authentic and positive ways to determine if people want to be in your circle.”
By coincidence, thanks in part to Covid, my divorce was final yesterday.
I just got a call from the mover, advising me that the next phase of my life starts in 17 minutes. I hope I carry forward the enthusiasm I have for life and jettison any bitterness that might infect me. Whatever lessons I was supposed to learn, I hope they stick with me. I also hope that all my errors are new ones and not repeats.
Once you jump out of the plane, you have to hit the ground; how you hit is up to you. P.S. I just took this picture of my cat Guino, who is staying in East Springdale. ..
There’s a meme that circles social media that says, ” Some talk to you in their free time, and some take their free time to talk to you.” It gets a lot of likes because it is pithy and hits a gong in our heads when we read it. Each of us tends to read it and picture others failing to appreciate us and share their time with us. If we’re truthful about it, though, we might also recognize a bit of hypocrisy in ourselves, as we are often guilty of the same inadvertent exclusion of people from our time.
Each of us has 86,400 seconds in a day, no matter who we are. We have to use our seconds from that bucket wisely. Work, sleep, eating, the “bureaucracy of living,” as I like to call it, and everything else that adds up to the sum of our life. It’s not easy.
It’s also a back-handed reminder to simplify your life so that you’ll have fewer obligations to keep you from having experiences rather than more things.
“Unconditional time” describes another person’s willingness to simply be in your presence, even while doing mundane things like grocery shopping, laundry, or any number of other things that fill our lives. People, of course, want to be with you if you’re on an exciting vacation or dining somewhere extravagant. It’s quite another for them to have the same spark to stand on the porch while you sweep it or on the couch while you fold your infinite laundry. If you’re with someone who asks, “What are you doing?” before sharing time and space with you, it’s probably best to carefully consider whether they are your person or not. And if you have someone who wants ‘to be’ in your space, regardless, you’ve found a rare soul. (Note: It’s toxic to insist that someone share all their time with you. That’s not what I’m talking about here.) It is the willingness to deliberately slice out time to share that distinguishes unconditional time from something else, much like the idea that love is accepting someone, even if they fail.
No matter who you are, it’s up to you to prioritize how you spend your seconds and your days. Therein lies the problem. If you demonstrate what’s important to you by what you do and how you allot your time, don’t be surprised if people fairly or unfairly make assumptions based on that behavior.
All of us feel like we should be apportioned two lives – or twice as much time. Our obligations often rob of us quality time or intimate time with those we appreciate or love.
For some, a little bit of the issue is time management. For most of us, though, we simply announce what is important to us whether we’re doing it consciously or not.
You get 86,400 seconds each day to divide up your life. Don’t let the bureaucracy of living blind you to the necessity of taking the time. You can’t “make time” anyway.
The average person can read this post in slightly under two minutes. That same two minutes is sufficient for some people to run 1/2 a mile. Take a couple of minutes to creatively reach out to anyone who might need to hear from you. Take an hour for others.
Love is infinite. But the amount of time you have to disperse it is limited.
This morning, I drove across town, heading back. I felt like I had been on another planet for a day. In a way, I guess I had. Whenever you find yourself in a transition in life, try to take a moment to snapshot how you’re feeling. That feeling later morphs into comfort or consolation, no matter what the ‘after’ you find yourself in looks like. Life is going to sneak up on you anyway. And no matter what you’re planning, some of the things that you dread reveal hidden treasures – while other certainties end up fizzling or filling you with disappointment.
Yesterday, to my horror, I realized that pink fuzzy dice are prominently featured in the amazing book, “The Encyclopedia of Bad Taste.” It’s a good thing my set of pink fuzzy dice can’t read English, or their feelings would be hurt. To my delight, many things I like had their respective pages. “Everything is in bad taste to someone,” I like to remind myself.
I also became a fun memory for someone yesterday. He’d never had someone come in and say, “I want however much pico de gallo $20 will buy. I ain’t here to negotiate. Whatever it is, it is.” To my surprise, it was a LOT. And they threw in two bags of unrequested chips and salsa for free. After I paid for my order, a shorter Latino man came around the corner. The cashier pointed at me. (He didn’t know I was looking at him askance.) The Latino man looked in my direction. I waved like I was recently injured in the head. It was apparent to me that he had poked his head out to see ‘who’ ordered so damn much pico de gallo. He hastily retreated as I waved to him. I told the cashier in Spanish, “Does spying cost extra?” He laughed.
I’m also 100% sure that the two workers in the liquor store I entered thought I was trying to steal. Naturally, I made at least five needless and random tours around the smaller store. I thought about ducking below the top to REALLY draw their interest but don’t want to be banned from another liquor store.
On my walk yesterday, I discovered so many hidden gems, hideaways, and unexpected pleasures. On one dead-end side street, I discovered new and fabulous houses. The style was so odd that I realized I loved it. It’s not something I would ever choose, but now that I’ve seen it, I’m impressed. At the outlet of that street, I stopped and did pushups. The smell of the towering mimosa tree was unbelievable. I stood under it as the purposeful wind swirled the scent around me.
I also got reminded this weekend of how much turmoil some people have to endure. Some suffer so much invisibly that they don’t come out of it alive. Having done the one wise thing I’ve done in a year and going to counseling gives me an entirely different appreciation for those who don’t go when they need it. Right now, I am sure that someone will read this and be one of those people who secretly have a private feedback loop running in their head, the one telling them that there’s no point or that maybe they shouldn’t be here. Counseling isn’t what you fear it might be. But it can be the starting point. And so many people would benefit from getting a handle on their issues now. We don’t realize we’re at the beginning of an avalanche until we’re half-buried in snow. The best gift you can give someone is the confidence you need in yourself to be able to tell them that they would benefit from getting help. And if you’re the person needing help, give yourself the gift by confiding in someone that you need help.
I stopped this morning and bought two containers of chalk, one of which I almost entirely used, making a ‘small’ homage somewhere in Springdale. A couple of people witnessed me in action but said nothing to discourage me. It’s too bad I wasn’t wearing pants. (Just kidding about the no-pants portion. Although that much chalk residue is a real problem at times.) It’s not like chalk is graffiti; it’s as impermanent as we are, though we cavalierly pretend otherwise as we move around on the face of this planet.
Leaving the grocery store, I saw an older Latino man ahead. Both arms were weighed down with liquor store bags. I slowed, checked behind me, and tossed the myriad mess from my passenger seat into the back. Pulling up alongside the man, I rolled my window down. (Yes, my Spark has roll windows, which is something that I love the idea of.) “Hop in,” I told him in Spanish. He politely declined. I insisted and repeated my first line with a bit of salty language. He laughed and put the bags on the floorboard as he climbed inside. I saw that he had Harps bags tucked inside each liquor store bag. (For those few people who don’t drink, black liquor store bags are much stouter than their grocery store counterparts.) About halfway inside, he realized how small the car was. “Where are you headed? I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.” It turned out he was staying a couple of miles up the road. I asked him he needed anything: money, food, a ride somewhere else… “No, but thanks,” he said. He told me he was working twelve hours a day and sleeping in the garage of one of his friends. I didn’t pry, but he volunteered that the last year was the worst year of his life. Without thinking, I said, “You’re paying the price now to have your life back.” He looked at me, and I realized that I probably touched a nerve. “Verdad.” He got out, picked up his bags. He nodded his head as a farewell as he walked up to the house.
I opened the garage door and fired up the grill to make grilled chicken breasts and portabello mushrooms. Almost immediately, a dog wandered up. For a brief second, I thought he was going to attack. Unexpectedly, he ducked his head and began to wag it back and forth, his eyes downcast. I kneeled and petted him like he was my dog, oblivious to the initial idea he might bite. After I finished petting him for a couple of minutes, he laid on the garage floor, content. I found some old smoked turkey breast and put it on the ground. He ate it, his tongue working across his snout long after he finished it. When I finished grilling, Guajolotero, as I named him, still was sprawled out on the garage floor. I cut up one of the huge chicken breasts, along with a portabello mushroom, and fed them to him. He ate slowly but thoroughly. Even though he still licked his chops, I petted him again. Afterward, he casually plopped down to rest again. Apparently, he adopted me. If that’s the case, I will hope he doesn’t expect freshly grilled chicken and mushrooms on the daily.
Two hours later, he’s still in the garage, chilling.
. . .
“It doesn’t matter who you’ve been with, it matters who you end up with.” Anonymous wisdom .
“It doesn’t matter what you’ve done, if you’ve made amends as much as you can, it only matters who you end up to be. None of us are ever finished – and those who think they are, well, they are ‘finished’ in quite another way.” – X . . .
Something I learned in counseling.
Do you feel like you failed today, or worse, that you were a failure?
If you’re alive, you succeeded in doing something, even if it is the minimum necessary.
Tomorrow, survive again.
Stop expecting a dramatic crescendo of satisfaction from each of your days and eventually, gratitude for JUST the minimum will take root. . . .
I hope to get my hands on this door, to help in transition into something else.
“You show up for work every single day regardless of whether you’re motivated or not. You do that because you’re a responsible adult, but when it comes to your training or nutrition, you allow your consistency to rely on your motivation. You have to get to the point where you realize your health and confidence are just as much your responsibility as something like your finances would be as well. When you finally make that mental switch, your actions will no longer be dictated by your emotions, and you’ll start making real progress.” – Chaz Spackman . I’m 38 days into my pushup challenge. (And NINE months into my year-long eating commitment!) When I started, my right shoulder was hurting like a rejected suitor on prom night. Because I’m not too fond of the idea of ritual workouts (and gyms), I opted for pushups, even though my job robs me of most of my physicality. I do them in increments, no matter where I am and no matter who might be watching. (It’s more natural than standing there with a cellphone.) Some days, I stop counting. My friend Joe says none of them count until it hurts, anyway. I promised myself I’d do at least six weeks of this craziness. My shoulder feels much better, and I know something positive is coming from doing this, even if it’s to lose more self-consciousness. Whenever you make significant changes, you’re always going to draw scrutiny.
It’s transformational to make a goal, any goal, and just do it. I wish I’d had my epiphany twenty years ago; that time is gone. No matter who you are, surely there is some change you’d like to see in your life.
I’ve been accused by a couple of people of being suddenly vain. That’s not it at all. I’m a 54-year-old man who has acquired a renewed sense of confidence thanks to luck and a commitment to consistency. I want everyone to experience what it feels like not to recognize themselves and realize that so much of what stops us is between our ears.
Pick a goal. Walk. Run. Bike. Learn Spanish. Be kinder. Eat better. Write your story. Read more. Stop voting like an idiot (no matter which camp you vote for).
Acquire consistency in whatever it is you aspire to.
Almost all consistency is a decision.
PS No matter how successful you are or you become, remember that life is going to hit you with a hammer anyway. You can’t avoid the hammer but you can avoid wasting all the opportunities you have in front of you.
As a person never short of words, I love shorthand such as “Karl,” or “Sorry about the rash.” It adds punch and mystery to language, gives rise to surprising laughter, and softens our hard edges to others.
“Wow” is a verb, without question.
Even in situations that aren’t romantic, we fall short when we can’t express admiration, encouragement, or even a bit of recognition for another person. So often, we’re afraid that it makes us vulnerable. So what? We’re already exposed and vulnerable.
In a typical day, there aren’t always moments that give rise to “You wow me.” But take a moment and imagine that someone took the time to get your attention and say these words to you.
If that isn’t a gift, not much is.
I hope that you were wowed by someone today. Or that you wowed another. As for tomorrow, look closer. You’ll see someone that might want to hear these words. Clear your throat, take a breath, and let these fluid words flow: “You wow me.”
This morning, I put the assorted nonsense I use during the day in my pocket. For some reason, I had a $5 bill and put that in my right pocket too. I never do that, especially since I would usually drag it out accidentally and lose it.
After eating lunch/supper, I drove back toward the house. I waited at the light on Emma and Butterfield Coach. It’s challenging to get good visibility on the left, an issue exacerbated by people pretending they’re racing in the Indy 500 as they come around the long curve. An SUV crossed the intersection doing at least 70. I waited, craning my neck to check again. Before you say anything, waiting until the light turns green IS an option. Still, it is just as likely to get you killed – and for two reasons: people have no patience waiting on someone to legally and safely turn, and a red light is often just encouragement to speed through an intersection illegally. I forgot to mention that East Springdale’s residents are less likely to have both a driver’s license and insurance at any given moment. It’s one of the many reasons I advocate that the city uses the actual roads for the annual Demolition Derby.
As it turned out, my light turned green, and I pulled out quickly. (That’s what she said. My apologies. That was a reflex TWSS there.) A couple of seconds later, I looked in my rearview mirror. A cobalt blue Hyundai was coming up behind me exceedingly fast, probably going 75 mph. As they passed, I noted that the car had five younger people in it, two of whom shoved their arms out the window, using their middle fingers to wave hello.
I concluded that I had interfered with their driving progress for zero seconds while they sped and failed to stop at a red light. I wasn’t quite sure what to do with that information.
The blue car, of course, caught up with a throng of traffic. A throng, whatever that is. So I followed them up Butterfield to Friendship. I turned left as they did. At this point, their guilty conscience probably convinced them I was angry about getting flipped off. I wasn’t. I was amused. They passed my normal turn into the neighborhood I live. A block further on, they turned into one of the dirt driveways on the side. The other side of the road isn’t part of Springdale city limits – and it shows. The high class you’d normally associate with Springdale diminishes considerably on that side of the road. (I apologize for the snark there, Rodeo fans.)
I stopped across from their driveway. I got out of my absurdly blue car and walked across. The driver’s eyes widened. Yes, it’s true someone could have shot me. I can think of no better way to die than by pranking someone in East Springdale unless it is to be shot by a jealous husband in bed. I handed the guy in the passenger rear seat a $5 bill and said, “Get yourself a 6-pack. And stop driving like pansies.” I laughed.
Someone inside the Hyundai said, “Dude, what the f—?” in a high-pitched voice.
I drove away, smiling like an idiot.
I like to think that this merry band of miscreants will be flipping off MORE people, expecting others to tip them for the honor.
“To get something you never had, you have to do something you’ve never done.”
The message continued: “These are not my words. But they are my mantra. You’re going to be scared. You’re going to be uncomfortable. And even when you did everything safe, you always ran the risk of total, absolute failure, losing everyone and everything you’ve ever had. Even though you already lost everything once, you allowed your mind to buffer you away from those considerations. The risk was real. You just didn’t consider it. You said, ‘Life is for the living.’ And whatever new thing you do today or tomorrow carries that same risk. Get over it. You could do everything right and still fall in a well. Now imagine that you turn back from new actions, new thoughts, and new habits because it’s safer. And you fail, playing it safe. I promise you that you will be filled with regret and self-anger. You told us to tell you when we see that you’ve forgotten this lesson. The point is that there are no guarantees, other than one day sooner than later, you will be dead. People will say whatever they’re going to say, and they’re going to write histories about you that are wildly inaccurate. But if you proceed with confidence, there is a guarantee that you’ve changed your outcome despite your fear. Whether it results in a better life or not, it roots itself in a positive decision. X, I’m counting on you to show me that it’s worth all the effort. If you fail, how can I expect to succeed?”
Well, sh!t.
I suspect that’s about the best calling-out I could imagine.
I wasn’t going to share this.
What’s the worst possible outcome, though?
Someone will read this and find something with which they identify.
Others will read it and feel uncomfortable.
I hope that discomfort focuses them to look for a purposeful life.
P.S. Parenthetically Speaking 