Watching the night sky’s illumination across the clouds in the early morning.
We think we want to see beyond the horizon or what’s around the corner.
That it will give us peace or stability.
It wouldn’t.
We don’t know the details of what is to come.
I sometimes say that the reason the world works is that each of us is an idiot on different days. And that most of the time we get a reprieve because all of the bad things don’t happen simultaneously.
The world is an overthinker’s nightmare because we want to know what’s around the corner so that we can fool ourselves into thinking we can control it.
We can’t even open a produce bag most of the time. We get irritated at the bag, as if we can’t collectively tell the people who make them to stop with the nonsense.
Looking at the night sky, enjoying it, but also nodding in acknowledgment that some days we have to just shake our heads at the decisions we make.
If we can just find the right meme to mock someone, everything might be okay.
If you’re waiting on life to be simpler or less distracted to do something, you’ll turn gray waiting for your fingers to stop tapping. Doubly true Is the folly of waiting for someone else to appropriate time. Time is the currency we use to pay for our decisions.
Someone smart told me that they couldn’t stand the phrase, “Stop and smell the roses.” Take the time to grow them. Or go outside where they grow and meet them on their own terms. We’re all too busy making money in order to buy the flowers, something that’s available in abundance all around us.
You can go to Disneyland and bring back the memories. You’re still going to have to find a way to enjoy washing the dishes that stack up on the counter, in the sink, or in the unloaded dishwasher.
I made it clear that jumping out of an airplane wasn’t to test my fear. I never felt a moment of apprehension because it’s an entirely safe act. Yet these things spray gray across things that should be as colorful as a prism’s rainbow. You don’t get a taste of the diverging universe that’s out there for you without thinking about the million mundane ways that you focus on ridiculous nonsense.
I say these things as a hypocrite in the truest sense of the word. I also say them as a tourist, visiting places but staying at the airport.
There are some intangible pleasures in life that go beyond explanation. For some, it’s watching their children become independent and creative people. Others sit by a campfire and watch the tendrils of smoke ascend to the night sky. A cup of pungent coffee, one that triggers the strength to help you avoid using a skillet on your coworkers.
Whatever your fjrudje might be, find a way to give it priority. Finite time and a limited reservoir of energy compel you to put in the time and effort for the things that matter to you. It’s hard enough living in a modern world and pushing away the distractions.
Fjrudje is a word I created, one based on an imaginary European language. It is supposed to be almost unpronounceable. Much like the alchemy and complexity of the feelings and thoughts you deal with during a normal day. I often refer to the lemon moments, the moments between the Kodak moments that most of us associate with a good life. 98% of your life fills the margins between the bookmarks that are worthy of qualifying as great memories.
I did a small thing for someone who didn’t ask for it. His reaction was beyond gracious. I wish I could describe how big his smile was. And how small and selfish I felt a couple of minutes before. Driving away, the disparity must have triggered something in my head. Tears came to my eyes out of nowhere. I stopped randomly to enjoy the outdoors. It turned out to be the complete opposite of random. The moment and place spanned backward in a huge arc, traversing almost 40 years. I’m not sure if I’m crazy or the world is. Since I’m a part of it, there might be no difference, much in the same way that colors on the opposite end of the spectrum are an illusion of optics and nerve endings.
I’m 57. One of the things I’m grateful for is that I am almost oblivious to self-image issues. Most of the people my age spend way too much time preoccupied with how they think they look. Some will say that my gender affords me a different perspective. I wish I could infect people with my attitude. You can fight the tide of aging as best you can. But if you are lucky, age will gift you with more years. In exchange, you’ll pay the price by seeing a different person in the mirror. Be who you are if you can. Since there is no such thing as a universal standard of beauty, regardless of how you get there, it still won’t satisfy everyone. Almost all fashion and appearance trends are geared toward the external, which is a strange way to focus and spend time and energy. Most say they do certain things to make themselves feel better about how they look. There’s nothing wrong with this approach unless you also disingenuously fail to acknowledge that the way you get there is by feeling like people think you look good. It’s the same problem with social media; the likes and approval feed our need for validation and interaction. There’s an element of control and curation about how we present ourselves. All of which is bizarre to me. People see us and hear us in real time each day, without filters. We are who we are in full display. Rather, we’re supposed to be. Beauty is where you find it. As is entertainment, joy, laughter, and grief.
The same circumstances and appearances cause some to blossom and others to flail. This is proof enough that the entire game is a personal perspective. You can ride the wave or swallow seawater.
Though I’ve given away many of my sentimental things, I still have one of my friend’s first paintings. She rendered the woman on the beautiful hill and the sun as black.
Below the art is a framed caption I wrote: “Black Hole Sun: The same sun, yet filtered by negligent eyes renders darkly all that shines.”
We are not designed to be immortal or perfectly rendered. We are supposed to strive to do and be our best. We’d be a hell of a lot better off by focusing on our minds and brains, which avoid physical scrutiny and bring satisfaction in ways that function independently of our faltering bodies. What purpose does it serve to be an Adonis or Helena if entropy demands that it cannot be maintained? Everything falters with time.
It’s not depressing. It’s liberating because it requires you to get up, make coffee, and put on your boots. You nod at the wrinkles and instead focus on what makes you satisfied. You can’t get there if you’re fixated on what must fail.
The universe definitely has a perverted sense of humor. Perhaps It is providence that it wants to repeat a lesson or theme until it sinks in. Possibly it is coincidence.
The other morning, I wrote a post sharing myself and my thoughts. As happens, someone reacted very badly to it – and rightfully so from their perspective. But their reaction was based on a misunderstanding, one that punctuates what I was trying to say. I wish I could have given them a hug. It wouldn’t have solved anything, but silent human acknowledgment is often more than we need. She accused me of being self-righteous. It stung and triggered a defensive reaction. Which of course means that she’s right. We only react when something challenges us. I earned myself self-righteousness. It does not serve me well and of course I understand that it makes me unlikeable to some people.
I had so many alcoholics in my periphery that their stories overlapped. It’s because at the heart of it, it is the same story repeated in an endless loop, like trying to ride a unicycle while drinking hot tea.
All of us are out here in the world staying busy, earning a living, and avoiding facing the idea that in so many ways we are small children camouflaged as adults.
By coincidence, someone on my periphery was secretly struggling with the consequences of someone else’s choice to dive into the bottle. Her story overlaps with mine. Although she didn’t say it in that way, I could feel the ambivalent resentment and love reverberate. It’s a feeling I know all too well. It’s why I wrote the Bystander’s Prayer that sometimes comes back around to me on the internet.
There are people around you right now who need hugs and attention. But what they’re getting is the temporary allure of things that distract them. The distraction comes with a price, one paid incrementally and almost always ending the same way.
The things we choose to numb us end up isolating us. If not in person, definitely in our own heads.
Sunlight cures almost all of this. Setting aside secrecy. Embarrassment. Shame. Not changing is a choice. We’re supposed to be honest and open, starting with ourselves. The fact that we can’t be adroitly explains why we cannot be that way with other people.
No argument, appeal, or logic can pierce the veil of insistent ignorance. Learning can only occur if the person accepts new information as a new opportunity. Too many people consider their knowledge and opinions to be finished forever. Coupled with the inability to understand that they might be wrong, this tendency toward close-mindedness becomes toxic to both the person and the society around them. It also leads you to wrongly conclude that either Rush or Nicki Minaj sounds great at any volume.
“…but scientific ideas have been proven wrong…”
They are supposed to be. The premise of knowledge is expansion. New information isn’t met with denial. It’s embraced so that the base of understanding can be revised. Being wrong is built into the scientific method. We went from an Earth-centric bubble to one in which we are a minuscule component of a vast universe.
Among examples of this is that it wasn’t until the late 1980s that it was declared unethical to perform surgeries on babies without anesthesia. Another great example is that people thought Led Zeppelin made great music. The man who insisted that ulcers weren’t caused by stress was told he was an idiot – until he proved it by infecting himself. Germs didn’t exist for centuries.
We should strive to live our individual lives with the same mantra: new information leads to new ideas.
“Regarding human affairs, the expectation that you can heal someone’s inability to be open to new information is among the most foolish.” If you think that bombarding someone with information will change their mind, you’re forgetting that you’re talking to a closed door.
“I know what I know and no amount of proof otherwise will sway me.” This quote is from something I wrote four years ago and it perfectly sums up so much of the problem. We expend considerable money and effort to educate people. It’s useless unless all of us are willing to listen, absorb, and change our fundamental understanding of anything and everything.
Study after study has proven that we tend to believe something and then find ways to substantiate it, excluding other possibilities. It’s the problem with politics, religion, and interpersonal relationships.
Knowing you’re ignorant is the essence of humility. Just because I don’t know something doesn’t mean it’s unknowable. If you blind yourself to the likelihood of error, you’re going to be betting on dead horses.
Ignorance is easy to exploit. A questioning mind, though still ignorant, can’t be locked into permanence.
At 2:02 a.m., I watched a meteorite burn out across the sky to the north. I was sitting by the pool in the dark in a strange place watching the American flag wave across the street. Yesterday’s clouds were gone, leaving an open canopy view of the overhead nigjt sky. The cicadas were keeping me cacophonous company, their shrill ancient sounds providing a background syncopation to my thoughts. I made a wish upon a star. It went right to the heart of my reoccurring theme of abandoning secrecy and living a life of accountability and openness.
We can’t understand ourselves or other people if we continue to insist that we can control and curate the dissonance in our lives resulting from believing that secrecy is beneficial.
Some of my posts are interconnected without seeming to be. A few years ago, I went to one of the local ERs. My family member, who I will call Susan, had an accident. In the course of her treatment, it was discovered she had fallen at home and likely suffered an event triggered by a brain injury. Because I have a background both in medical and secrecy, I was glad to have shown up. Had I not, she would have been administered a medication that likely would have killed her quickly. Another family member had decided to keep Susan’s history of excessive drinking secret. I understand the tendency to not discuss it. Being me, I didn’t hesitate to pull medical staff aside and indicate that alcoholism was an undisclosed factor. The doctor, despite having experience with all manner of such non-disclosure, reacted with surprise and took measures to quickly change how Susan would be treated.
Much later that day, I visited the hospital and discovered that some of the information had not been passed on to the nursing staff. The nursing staff once again immediately changed the medications for the course of treatment for Susan.
I’m not telling the story so that I will somehow look better. People who know me well know the opposite is true. I’m not saying any of this to point the finger at anyone. Most of us do the best we can and hope that we are rationally making the best choices. Family honor, misguided loyalty, and the inability to tell ourselves or the people around us tough truth combine to rob us of a better life.
Part of my truth is that a portion of my identity is tied to the resentment I experience when I deal with people who want to live in secrecy. The stubbornness and resentment has caused me sometimes to stick my foot in icy water and challenge people. My early life is full of such stories. One of those stories resulted in me discovering a sister. Others pushed me into huge fights when I foolishly tilted at windmills and asked people to choose differently. Conversely, the same obstinacy cemented my own feet, resulting in my idiocy morphing words of concern for my choices into accusations. We tend to recognize it later as love or concern. But in the moment? Our defensiveness whispers to us that we are being unfairly attacked.
My life history is littered with people who ruin their lives with alcoholism, addiction, or anger. Every person in my family who drank too much finished their lives still suffering from the little voice in their head that insisted that they continue drinking. It’s one of the reasons I’m proud of my sister. It took her a long time to look back on the arc of her life and tell herself that enough was enough. Each of us usually only takes action when it’s the only other choice. We sometimes talk and nod toward one another, once again agreeing that it has nothing to do with intelligence. We make choices, or adopt maladaptive ways to feel better. And then our strategies turn traitor and entrap us.
All of the preceding words also disclose my volatile resentment regarding secrecy. People can’t develop long-term drinking issues without secrecy. They can’t blow up their marriages without secrecy being perverted into privacy. We can’t become helplessly overweight unless we don’t talk about the elephant in the room or the ostrich in the closet. Depression blossoms because the difference in what people experience inside their private worlds in their heads becomes disproportionately silent. Isolation in thought or action inevitably brings toxicity. Even to otherwise normal behavior that becomes an unhealthy obsession.
If we had to experience the accountability of people around us knowing us in our private moments, it would be difficult to continue the charade of secrecy. Instead of choosing authenticity, we spiral into a cocoon of self-fulfilling prophecy. Image truly becomes the identity we cling to. The people around us flail and overthink because they bear witness to the consequences of our choices. Further out into our personal periphery, the people in our orbit are unaware. Most of the time I think we have this backwards.
A little bit ago, I navigated the dark and put my feet into the pool. After a few minutes, another dimmer meteorite scorched its way into non-existense as it penetrated the atmosphere above me. I didn’t make another wish, even though initially I wished that I wouldn’t overthink. I’m sitting in the late night or early morning of the last day of July. I’ve outlived people who were better than me. Definitely smarter.
For a brief second, the lesson of detachment and gratitude reminded me that it’s to be experienced. And the only way to experience anything meaningfully is to unflinchingly know yourself and live in the reality that you’ve been given rather than the one you attempt to craft.
Secrecy can kiss my ass. It’s no irony that I’m sitting in the dark writing this.
P.S. Parenthetically Speaking 