Something I used to ask people often instead of the traditional, “How are you?”
It’s time to dust it off and either create a bit of laughter or a bit of contemplation. Both are equally important. Not quite as important as remembering to keep your fly up, but somewhere on that scale.
X
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Age
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.
Love, X
In the golden haze of morning light, she pedals along, a vision bright.
Her wheels spin like sunflowers in bloom, an almost invisible comet through street and gloom.
Her basket holds secrets and love, gifts of kindness, love, and respite.
She leaves silent grace, a trail of hope and joy in her tire track’s embrace.
Her gifts are often sublime.
She may leave you energy to bounce through the day.
And for others, she grants a moment of peace. Sometimes, that’s more than enough.
You don’t hear much about the woman or her yellow bicycle.
That’s the way she prefers it,
It’s likely that you won’t see her approach.
She prefers anonymity when possible.
She’s not a guardian angel or a phantasm.
She is love and action in motion. Love is always in motion.
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I wanted to remind you of the lady on the yellow bicycle. It seems that only a few of us can see her. May she visit you soon and often.
Ask me if she’s real. She is to those who believe in magic that fires through our lives and hearts. Look closely, fellow travelers. Everything that matters is invisible; her basket is filled with these things.
And if you don’t see her? BE her disciple in any way you’re capable.
Love, X
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When you are interested in many things, it’s bewildering for someone near you not to want to experience it. Especially the expressive parts that reveal not only the goings-on of the day but glimpses into the invisible world each of us has in our own mind. It is sacrosanct that interest and enthusiasm at least simmer in one’s direction, if not boil effusively.
People are never complete unless they are finished. There’s always something new about them if their mind is fresh and their attention is focused.
We’re supposed to reward those who don’t conceal themselves. It’s authenticity rendered in flesh and bone, words and behavior. Such people are making bids without thinking.
Gottman studies the role of bids in romantic relationships. (And some can be applied to worldly interpersonal connections.) The higher the bids toward another person, the deeper the relationship and connection. As these bids lessen or go unreturned, you can chart the connection’s demise. If you’re unfamiliar with the Gottman research, it’s extensive and provides words to frame many of the things you already know and feel.
I feel strongly about all of this. I’m one of those people who unobtrusively shares a hell of a lot of myself, whether you’re standing in front of me or whether I opt for the virtual world. My bid is constant. I’m meeting people more than halfway. I scratch my head in puzzlement and then bewilderment when people sharing my lane fail to understand that time is taken rather than made. People say they seek connection and understanding. But then many engage superficially or let the external intrude where it should not. It hasn’t helped that we now carry universal entertainment and distraction devices in our pockets.
PS I’ve said it 23,467 times: everything that matters is invisible. Among those are love, kinship, friendship, energy, enthusiasm, and interest. Each of us has limited time; your choices indicate what holds value for you.
Love, X
So many people complicate it.
Or insist that it’s a control issue.
When done maturely, both people decide what’s right and important for each of them. Each has free will and choice.
Love, X
NSFW due to a wild mix of subject matter and personal commentary…
My brother Mike died without fulfilling my desire that he write a book. He absorbed the false honor narrative of some of my family members. He was a big man, my brother. I took these rules from conversations that Mike and I had on the phone when he was winding down. I’ve shared pieces of them before. My brother Mike had an interesting life. He was a great writer. We both recognized that between the two of us, we might be able to capture the horror, dark humor, and insights that we experienced. Of all the things that piss me off about the way he went out, it’s that he didn’t have enough clarity to see that he should pull up and find a way to live a few more years. Had he chosen to find a way, the resulting book we would have written would have been an irreverent mixture of Pat Conroy and Stephen King.
I’m paraphrasing my dad: “You’re going to get punched in the f mouth. There’s no doubt about it.”
My brother Mike saw a few fights that I didn’t. While I did witness my dad getting his ass whipped, Mike saw a few more of these than I did. Dad had whiskey courage. He read a few too many Westerns and got the wrong lesson out of most of the movies.
Take them for what you will. My dad was a walking contradiction. I despise a lot of what he did. But I understand it a hell of a lot better as I get older.
Rules:
If you’re going to drink in a bar, you’re going to need to be deaf or have a thick skull.
If your buddy is getting his ass whipped, you have to get your ass whipped too.
If someone threatens you… There are no rules, no warning. Do not think about it. Start hitting.
If someone says they’re going to whip your ass, don’t wait for them to prove it.
If they’re close enough to hit you, hit them first. Don’t stop hitting until they’re down.
The most dangerous man is never the loudest.
Don’t punch them more than you need to. But if they are intent on killing you, don’t walk away when they’re on the ground.
If they dress like a dandy, they will not want to get dirty. If they wear a tight shirt, it’s a sure sign that their muscles are for show. Except if they have dirty, scruffed-up boots. You don’t mess around with people who work hard for a living.
Nuts, throat, nose. If those don’t work, bite anything that gets near your mouth.
There’s no such thing as fighting dirty. If they are coming for you, everything in the room is fair game.
If you deserve to get punched, let them hit you in the face. If they attempt to give you more than what you’ve got coming, remind them that you’re a dirty bastard.
Once you’re done fighting, men have a drink. If you can’t have a drink with a man you just fought with, you’re not worth the hat that sits on your head.
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Dad tried to make a man out of me. Whatever that means. He had his demons. A great deal of his alleged teaching resulted in me choosing the opposite. I never could get my head around that kind of violence. But if you ask me if I understand it, the answer is yes. Especially so when the universe fails or when people fail to honor the fact that violence should never be out of proportion to what caused it. Dad scrambled my brains a few times, but one thing that came out of it was that I learned that many fights come out of nowhere. And a few people who should have scared me didn’t. That’s a part of the Bobby Dean legacy that fills me with contradiction.
I’m forgetting a few of his rules. Despite some of the negative things I have to say about him, he surprised my brother and me many times with how he phrased things. I sometimes forget that he was smart. I would snarkily mention that he often failed to incorporate his intelligence into his behavior. But I’m tired of getting hit by a bolt of hypocritical lightning.
I’ve confessed before that my brother and I actively thought about killing my dad more than once. I’m not proud of it. But if Dad had survived a few more years, he would have appreciated the dark humor of this truth a lot more. Mike realized when we got older that it probably would have been me who would have done it because I experienced and witnessed a lot more of the violence. When my brother Mike got older, Dad looked at him much differently. Mike would have hurled him through the kitchen window like firewood.
Knowing them both, I am 100% certain that one of them would have pulled out the whiskey bottle and poured the other a shot.
They were the kind of men I did not aspire to become. Whatever dark streak ran through them has luckily remained mostly dormant in me. I’d love to have the devilish prankster spirit. I wouldn’t tie someone to a hunting camp tree stump and light it, but I would enjoy making someone think it could happen. There is a fine line between lunacy and free-spiritedness.
I’m sharing this because it’s supposed to be a tip of the hat. It’s not an accusation. The history is there, written as fact in my mind. One of the crazy lessons of ambivalence is that you can witness a tornado but fall in love with how the lightning looks across the sky. Life can be appreciated similarly, even if you would rather flip the light switch off for some moments.
Love, X
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I’ve reminded many people about this because it infects many relationships. Pay attention to what your person says they want or need. They’ll repeat it – until one day, they go silent. That silence equals danger.
Love, X
I voted today and my precinct was amazing. I waited literally zero seconds for any process of my voting. Though I am a liberal independent, I voted in the Republican primary like I did 4 years ago. The goal was to be able to say that I voted against him each time he’s been on the ballot. I’ll leave you to speculate which candidate I’m referring to. As for presidential politics, I do not expect either major candidate to be chosen by their respective parties, each for different reasons. It’s a bold prediction but when I’m confident in.
X
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PS I realize that just a few days ago that I said expressing your political beliefs is like sticking your head in the microwave. My political beliefs can be best described: qualified, intelligent, and compassionate candidates who are committed to doing what’s best for each set of circumstances without resorting to ridiculous ideology. In this day and age, that’s tantamount to saying that you have lunch with leprechauns.
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There’s something in business I call the invisible ceiling. It lies between management layers. It’s part of the defect of many organizations. Upper management mandates their objectives. As those objectives trickle down, human beings are relied upon to make them happen. We’re reluctant enough to share negatives with our own partners. Lower managers do not communicate their objections, obstacles, or negatives to those above them. Even when it’s beneficial to the organization. Upper management becomes increasingly unaware of the issues at ground level. Their decisions become more divorced from reality. The invisible ceiling between levels in organizations leads to misbehavior and poor management. If human beings are involved, you can be darned certain that there will be both bad decisions and even worse responses to keep those consequences out of sight of those who decide whether people can continue working.
It’s a combination of both ego and paycheck.
How can organizations minimize this disconnect? By employing people with the knowledge and nerve to know that part of their job is to say things that their superiors might not want to hear. You also need relief valves so that the people performing the work have a connection to the upper management. The more flexible and spontaneous these relief valve communication channels are, the more likely that middle layers of management will stifle their tendency toward silence or controlling the information flow. It also identifies weaker managers much more quickly.
Everyone says that they want open and direct communication. Yet, if you look closely at not only relationships but business models, you’ll see that they are designed and operated on a daily basis with no direct communication driving it.
You have to have vocal people and encourage them. If it’s not part of the culture, it’s an open secret that you should bite your tongue. Open doors mean nothing if people are nervous to use them – and doubly so if the person in the chair isn’t listening.
I’ve watched this in action my entire life.
It’s so obvious that it’s a critical component of success.
“If you’re not listening to and talking to the janitor, you’re missing critical information to keep your business healthy.”
Businesses are complicated machines. While some positions are more replaceable, all of them have their necessity; otherwise, they wouldn’t exist. Pay attention to all the cogs and provide a means for voicing contrary opinions. You’re going to wish you listened to your spouse, and you’re going to wish you’d taken a minute to ask the person doing maintenance if there was anything that could be a problem.
Anonymous surveys cause raised eyebrows. One-on-one interaction brings revelation.
X
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A version of this was seen by a LOT of people.
I deviated from what I knew to be true once – and I paid the price.
Love, X
P.S. Parenthetically Speaking 