When I was young, I usually resented it when some old fart
insisted upon offering me their sage advice. It seemed that very little of the
advice actually applied to my life in any way, and looking back, I can still
say that some – but certainly not all – of that advice was really an attempt to
get me to agree with their own mindset. Therefore, it is with no small measure
of hesitation that I offer my own “sage advice” to younger folks in general,
and to one young friend of whom I am particularly fond. So here goes…
First of all, I make no claim to being “wise.” To be honest,
during the course of my life, I’ve screwed up and failed at far more than I’ve
gotten right, and I don’t kid myself into believing that I’m finished screwing
up. Any “wisdom” I might have achieved has occurred out of attrition, rather
than mindful discovery, and reflects my attempt to be honest about my many
failures. So take anything I say with a grain (no, a pound) of salt.
Regrets
I’ve done some pretty ugly things in my life, and have
to acknowledge that if Karma is absolute, I’ve got at least a couple more really
virtuous lives to live before I can work it off. That being said, my deepest
regrets as I move closer to my departure from this life than to my emergence
into it are not for the things I’ve done, but rather for the things I haven’t done because I was afraid or felt
I was unworthy. I need to say that again, because it’s emerged as a really important
truth for me.
I regret the things I haven’t done, much more than any of the things I have done.
I am unworthy. The
first girl I ever really loved was a neighbor girl down the street. She was a
beautiful girl, and a genuinely good person, and therein lies the reason why I
never even told her I cared about her. See, I was bad. Far too bad a kid to be deserving of a good girl. Most of the
grownups knew how bad I was (I somehow offered them proof on a regular basis),
and didn’t really hesitate in reminding me of that fact. They were adults, and
I took their judgment very much to heart. Ironically, the little girl’s mother –
Joy – was one of the few who didn’t despise me. But then again, I wasn’t going
after her daughter.
I am afraid. While
I was in college, there was a girl I used to hang out with – let’s call her Susie
Homemaker –whose friendship I really enjoyed. We didn’t always agree about
everything, but enjoyed our disagreements as much as our agreements and our
shared experiences. We’d hang out all the time, and frequently tell each other
how fortunate that we were to stay friends, and not screw up the friendship by
being romantically involved with each other. We’d each date other people, and
tell ourselves and each other that those relationships didn’t have any bearing on
what we shared.
Everything was cool for a few years. That changed one night,
when I was about to go into the Navy, and she was moving to Alaska with her then
boyfriend. We were partying really hard that night, and I was incredibly high when
it hit me: we were saying goodbye to each other, probably for keeps. And that
scared me far more than I could have expected. Through the haze of my
drug-addled brain, I realized something I’d hidden from for years: I’d been in
love with her for a very long time, but had been afraid that revealing my true
feelings would scare her away.
We eventually got away from our fellow partiers, and the
truth burst out of me in a way I never allowed anyone to see. I broke down in
tears and told her how I really felt, and she responded in kind. Seems that she
had long felt that way about me, but figured those feelings weren’t returned. Turns
out that she was afraid, just like me. But now, we’d cast our respective fates
to different winds, and it was too late to change course. We hugged, cried
together, kissed for the first and last time, and said our goodbyes. And we
never saw or heard from each other again.
I don’t regret that she isn’t in my life now. Not really. I’m
with a woman I love with all my heart, and have no desire to replace. In all
honesty, even if Susie and I had followed our hearts, we’d have almost
certainly ended our relationship after awhile, and it probably wouldn’t have
been a particularly gentle parting. I ultimately learned the hard way that I
wasn’t ready for a real relationship back then. She didn’t know the demons that
dwelt in me, hidden away from everyone. Demons that would grow more virulent
before being (hopefully) vanquished. But I do regret that we denied ourselves
the opportunity to share something that could have been beautiful, even if only
for awhile.
What is left from both these experiences is a hard lesson. I’ve
never been afraid to confront others, but sacrificed things I cherished, simply
because I was afraid of being hurt, of being discovered for the unworthy person
I felt myself to be. The advice I would offer, to you, my young friend, and to
those who, like me, are no longer young, but still have that frightened child
living inside, is that love is the one thing that you should never turn away
from, because you will regret doing so for the rest of your life. Better to “get
the shit kicked out of you by love*” than to someday find yourself shadowed by “what
if” and haunted by “if only.”
My next bit of hard-earned “wisdom” is one that most of us
learn too late, and that applies to every aspect of our lives – our religion,
our politics, our profession, and most certainly, our relationships.
If any aspect of your life doesn’t make you feel like a better person, and inspire you to want to become a better person, it is a waste of your time.
We’ve all had jobs, relationships, and life circumstances
that we figured were good enough, for now at least. I’ve learned, through
repeated and often harsh examples, that “good enough” is the most insidious
drug we can ever take. It is the active acknowledgment that we’ve given up, at
least for the time being. We get comfortable.
Jobs. The job you
have might be mind-numbing and frustrating, or even a lot of fun, but not be
getting you any closer to where you dream of being. But hey, that regular
paycheck sure takes the worries away, and your job title might make you feel
important. Comfortably numb and effectively head-patted. Until you start
getting accustomed to that paycheck and job title, and figure you can spend
more, buy more, do more, and further burnish your badge of honor résumé. And
like a drug, it eventually takes more for you to feel comfortably numb, even as
that sense of yearning for what you really want keeps rearing its head. It’s a
vicious cycle. This isn’t implying that you should blare the song, “Take This
Job and Shove It” and walk immediately away. But look clearly at what your job,
career, and even profession really provides for you, and if it isn’t serving to
make you more like the person you dream of being, be open to clues that lead
you to the job, career, or profession that does, and follow them as if your
life depends upon it. And always know that you are far more than just your job
title.
Relationships. To
settle for a relationship that is good
enough for now is to state that you don’t deserve or won’t find anything
better. It is a surrender to the notion that you are less than what you really
are, and acceptance of the notion that you’ll never have the love you dream of
having. Unfortunately, it is a self-fulfilling prophecy. If your eyes are
tightly closed, you will never see the sunshine, never revel at the wonder of a
rainbow. And if you accept the comfort of a relationship that doesn’t serve to spark
your passions (and not just sexual), dispel your fears, and help you realize your
goodness as a person, while making you hunger to be an even better one, you won’t
be able to see such an enriching relationship when it does come your way. And
it will.
Get a better mirror; one that reflects more than your
imperfections. One that also reflects the real beauty that others see, but that
you don’t let yourself observe and acknowledge. Don’t rely so much on other
people’s opinion of you, because they will often have their own agendas .For
all your perceived flaws and shortcomings, there is a beauty in you that shines
clearly for those who are capable of looking and seeing, and that far outshines
any of those flaws. But you cannot show that beauty to those who don’t yet know
you unless you begin to recognize its presence. Listen to those of us who truly
love you, even though we seek nothing from you. We are there, all around you. Not
looking to judge your fashion sense, but being touched by your heart. Open your
eyes enough to consider that what we see must actually exist. We aren’t stupid,
we aren’t blind, and we’re not trying to trick you or use you. We only want you
to feel the joy that we know you deserve.
Life in general. Everyone’s
life is a collection of countless details, some the products of our decisions,
others existing by default. These include our geographical location, the
hobbies and interests we pursue, and the many things we acquire as the years
pass. Far too frequently, we simply accept without question or even much
thought the circumstances in which we find ourselves. Just as frequently, we choose
our circumstances based not upon what will make us better people, but rather
upon what is simple, or worse, what helps us avoid things we find uncomfortable.
Things that we fear.
I’ve learned – as always, the hard way – that personal
security notwithstanding, fear is quite often a signpost that lets us know we’re
going someplace new and unfamiliar. My own hard lessons have been the result of
turning away from something new, only to later embrace the same experience and
wish I hadn’t passed it up the first time around. On the other hand, I’ve found
that the most wondrous times in my life came to pass when I faced my fears and
followed a new path anyway. I stubbed some toes along the way, but learned that
the bruises – even the worst of them – always heal, while the memories and
lessons stay with me. And in retrospect, even situations that I found upsetting
– even frightening – have more often than not turned out just fine.
Sometimes, the things we gather around us begin to define us.
That’s not inherently bad, but we are best served if we recognize when that is
happening, and consciously decide what to hold onto and what to set aside. My
wife is admittedly obsessive about her huge collection of books. Where she has
thousands of books, many of which she’s never read, she has a tough time
bringing herself to get rid of any. I, on the other hand, have only a few that
I keep, despite having bought many more throughout my life. Those that I
particularly enjoyed, I passed along to others. Yet it is not my place to pass
judgment on her decision to keep so many books. They are important to her, and
besides, I have my own collectible fetishes, like the drawer full of knives I
own, most of which I never carry, but enjoy nonetheless. In addition, I act on
my own personal nature, which, while different than hers, is not necessarily
better.
My core attitude toward things and circumstances in general
is that everything in my life either serves me or is served by me. If something
doesn’t really make me a better person or genuinely enrich my life in some way,
I ask myself how much energy I use storing, protecting, and caring for it. If
serving something in my life takes more energy than the pleasure it brings can
justify, I set it aside or send it on its way to someone whom it will serve.
This has definitely not been a wise investment strategy, but as anyone who
knows me will attest, my preferred investments have always been in experiences,
rather than things. I’d no doubt be better off financially now that I’m semi-retired,
had I followed a more conventional strategy, but the experiences I’ve had are
far more rewarding to me than a fat portfolio could ever be.
I’m not suggesting that anyone adopt my overly casual
approach to circumstances and material things. Doing so would drive even some
of my dearest friends crazy. That’s what happens when you try to do something
that is contrary to your true nature. But once in awhile, it might be good to
ask yourself whether the minutiae of your life is serving you, or if you’re
serving it. Then give some thought to whom you’re in this life to serve. You
might be surprised at the changes in your priorities..
The one way to break the good
enough for now cycle is to realize that now
is all you’ve got, and to stop wasting it. Repeat that phrase:
Now is all you’ve got.
Your past is nothing but memories, and your future is a crap
shoot. Learn from one, and consider (but don’t obsess upon) the other. Don’t
let your future be defined and limited by your past. You are so much more than
the sum of your mistakes or your victories. Stick enough of your Now into the Good Enough jar, and your future will be filled with so many regrets
that there won’t be room for those most cherished memories. Better to devour
and be nourished and thrilled by that Now, and add it to that store of moments
you cherish. You’ll enjoy it more, especially when you grow so old that your
memories are your most reliable companions.
The next time you find yourself saying the phrase “good
enough” in describing some aspect of your life, realize that you may actually be
prefacing it with the belief, if not the words, “I’m not.” Learn to accept that
the people who truly know you and love you know better. You don’t have them
fooled. So quit fooling yourself, especially with self-doubt and recrimination.
Well, that’s about all the advice I feel qualified to give.
I don’t delude myself into believing that my advice is infallible, much less a
guaranteed key to unlocking the joy that life has to offer you. Nobody has such
a key, and besides, the door doesn’t even have a lock. All I can state with any
conviction is that while I certainly haven’t found the path to enlightenment, I
have spent enough time and energy on the path to sadness to ensure that I know
it very well. My “advice,” then, is offered to help you avoid a path I followed
for too many years, which brought me far more regret than happiness. To be
better than I’ve been, with far fewer regrets. You deserve nothing less.
* – Tip of the hat to the delightful film, “Love, Actually.”
