Emerging from the clouds and finding stillness
“Every painful event carries a seed.”
Hi friends,
On a recent flight, we took off from the runway and flew into the air. It was a cloudy day, so there were a few bumps on the ascent. A passenger held onto her seat during the turbulence. Then, we cut through the clouds and began to float, smooth as ever. There was the sun, shining bright. I’ve written about this before, but it bears repeating, because this is my favorite part of flying: The moment we break through the clouds into blue skies.
These takeoffs are a microcosm of life. Bumps precede the sense of ease. Life loves us so much that it sends us difficulties – the bumps in the air – to make us stronger.
***
Well, it is now mid-May, a lovely month of spring, renewal, and new beginnings. I hope you find time this month to find stillness, to release your foot from the gas pedal, and simply be free of judgment, critique, and self-loathing. I hope you make time to stroll in nature, because, in the words of Mary Davis, “A walk in nature walks the soul back home.” Hear the birds, see the greenery, feel the air. As I write this sentence, I sit outside, pencil in hand, listening to the birds sing a Sunday morning melody.
I hope you remind yourself, like me, to slow down. Let go of the stressors and find calmness. I hope you find much health and happiness this spring, and beyond. Someday, we will reflect on these precious days as “the good old days.”
Our body deserves to be treasured. Our body is our temple, offering the gift of being alive. Tenderness and gentleness toward us are so important. Be easy on you. There are moments throughout the day in which I catch myself being un-gentle toward myself, too hard on myself, or too serious with myself or my work. Let’s catch ourselves, when we can, and bring ourselves back to appreciation for the simple things, such as the beating of our hearts.
This spring, let us also value time over possessions. We can always acquire more things; we can never earn time back.
Be ruthless with the things that don’t matter so you can focus all your loving energy into what does. Look for and find the treasuries buried in yourself and others. When you see others in their inner beauty and goodness, you transform them. Inspired by Marcus Aurelius, I recently conducted an exercise in which I jotted down the names of about 25 people with whom I regularly associate. Next to each name, I wrote a few lines about what I love and appreciate about them.
Let us also understand that progress usually happens too slowly to notice. It seems, for anything worthwhile, this is how progress works. There is beauty in that climb; there’s no need to continually look at the scoreboard. There’s no need to assign “good” or “bad” to what we’ve done or how we look. Those are just judgments.
As I woke up today, fog hovered outside. The birds woke up early. I listened to nature waking up to meet the newborn day in its magical ways. It’s incredible that we are all even here on this Earth.
***
“If you worry too much about what might be, or what might have been, you will ignore and overlook what is. Remember this: Worrying is a misuse of your past vs. present potential, and your incredible creative energy. So focus mindfully on today.” -- Marc and Angel Chernoff
“Forget what your budgets and bank accounts say. Forget what’s on the deed. If you really want to own something, own this moment in front of you. Own what you’re doing. Be present, be here, be still.”
As I write this, I sit outside on a Sunday morning: reflecting, reading, writing, listening.
Occasionally, I feel worn out, anxious, broken. At times, all I want to do is cry. There are moments — they arrive in waves — when it’s all too much: The deaths of my sweet Grandma; Grandpa; dear friend, Bruce; family friend, Nancy; Ally’s uncle, Tom….all of it sometimes overwhelms me. The five deaths in the last 25 months have made my heart drop, moved me to tears. Five loving hearts gone.
May their spirits live on. In the words of Morrie Schwartz, on his deathbed dying of ALS: “As long as we love each other, and remember the feeling of love we had, we can die without ever really going away. All the love you created is there. The memories are there. You live on in the hearts of everyone you touched.”
I’m not writing for you to feel sorry for me. Their lives have ended, but their souls live on. Plus, there is a great deal of suffering in the world, and much of it far worse than I’ve ever felt or seen. Suffering and pain are inevitable parts of life; I accept that. There are many times when the deaths make me come alive. These people give me more to live for, more to love, more to appreciate. They remind me to make the ordinary the extraordinary. Suffering leads to growth. Every negative feeling, stressor, or grieving moment is useful for awareness, understanding and growth.
“Every painful event carries a seed.”
There’s this fascinating Stoic exercise called Memento Mori: “Remember that you will die,” a reminder of mortality and the inevitable transformation of life into death. It’s not morbid, it’s inspiring. Let it guide us to live a life of deep meaning. Let it help us not take the little stuff so seriously. All of this is going away, and we’re all going to die, so let us love what we have and who we’re with. Most stuff isn’t worth getting worked up over.
Of course, that doesn’t eliminate grief or pain or suffering. It can help. What also helps is gratitude: I’m simply grateful I have people to miss, people to grieve over, people whose lives I’m grateful to have intersected at a moment in time amid the billions of years of this Earth.
When I think about these people, sometimes I am overcome with emotion. Holding on tightly to their spirit helps me love harder. Because they remind me of the fragility of life, I live more presently. That is perhaps the greatest gift they could give.
***
I regret living the early parts of my life with low confidence. I regret not having more fun as a kid, taking a deep breath, and just living, just being loose, letting go of all that unnecessary self-pressure, anxiety, and stress. I regret not being more supportive to friends and family during difficult times. I regret not being there for others who lost loved ones. I regret specializing so heavily in baseball and not diversifying myself into art, music, and volunteer work. I regret not writing the book I wanted to write a few years ago.
I don’t like that all the people I love are so spread out. I haven’t seen some people whose company I really enjoy in years. I go weeks, sometimes months, without seeing the people I love because of geographic spread. I wish we all lived in the same neighborhood.
While these are regrets and wishes, they are also reminders to live with more presence, in the here and now. Because my time with others is limited, I try to immerse myself in their presence. (Still a work in progress.) Because of those regrets above, I live more urgently, with a more open mind, but I remind myself constantly to let go. Let go, let go, let go. And because of those regrets, I step forward now with more confidence, self-love, and appreciation for all the world has to offer us.
The Power of 1 Second:
It only takes one second to say:
· I love you
· I apologize
· Can we talk
· You were right
· You are a gift in my life
“You are never going to get it all together, you’re never going to get your act together, fully, completely. You’re never going to get all the little loose ends tied up.” ― Pema Chödrön
Lastly, a few of my favorite photos of late:
Spring in Bryant Park:
Yoga, stretching and strength:
Lilies: “The sweet and innocent beauty of the lily flower has given it the association of fresh life and rebirth.”
Yosemite National Park with Ally, almost one year ago:
NYC lunch:
Question of the week: When was the last time you felt a sense of wonder and awe? What can that experience teach you about how to spend your time? (H/T: James Clear)
Be joyful and celebrate your gifts,
Matthew