Rekindling old relationships
Why regret not reaching out?
Hi friends,
A dose of joy arrives when a message comes from an old friend looking to reconnect, check in or just say hi. The feeling doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it triggers nostalgia. Usually, a smile too. That feeling is one of the gifts of rekindling with others. Life is richer with other people in it.
Thus, it has become a goal of mine to reach out to friends (sometimes family, too) from years past. At first, this felt intrusive and awkward, but people are often delighted to hear from someone who isn’t merely asking for something. Reaching out cold to old friends comes with potential for big returns: Huge upside, minimal downside. Many of us dislike reaching out cold to people because we are wired to be afraid of rejection. Yet the downside risk is merely that they don’t respond, or the interaction lasts a minute (or only a few text messages), and you move on. The upside is a valuable new relationship.
Last year, Ally and I traveled across the country, stopping at homes of friends and family along the way. Several times, we reached out to an old friend asking if they wanted to meet for a meal. We’ve since lost touch with some of the people we visited, but we’ve also remained in regular contact with others. Maybe those relationships will remain for many years to come. If they do, great. If not, we continue moving on.
During the pandemic, I reconnected with about a dozen high school friends and roughly as many college friends. This is driven in part by my regret of not checking in with others over the years. One person I regret not reaching out to enough ended up taking her own life. Another lost his dad, and I feel I could have been in closer contact. Another friend, several years ago, died young despite being in good health. I regretted not checking in with him in the year or two prior.
Many of us have regrets about friendship and friendships (or romantic relationships) drifting apart. Sometimes, letting go and moving on is the best move: I’ve lost connection with some people over the years and I don’t really think about it. That’s fine. In some cases, moving on and not rekindling the relationship is probably the healthier move. But I do feel, for the most part, that I’ll regret not reaching out to someone at a time I could have. Many times, we pick up right where we left off. (Not to mention, the internet has made it easier to get back in touch with others.)
I think of the story of George Boiardi in “The Hard Hat” by Jon Gordon, a book about a former Cornell lacrosse player who died on the field in 2004. In the book, one of his teammates mentions how his friend’s death taught him to stop saying “no” to invites from others. He’d no longer decline social invites, lunches with friends, birthdays and celebrations. His point wasn’t about spreading himself to thin or attending events with people he doesn’t like. It’s just that he learned to do the things he might have otherwise been hesitant to. In this case, the player learned, we don’t know how many more times we’ll see that person again.
I also consider former MLB manager Clint Hurdle, who ends each of his emails with, “Make a difference today,” and others with, “Call someone you love today.” We could add one more line: Reach out to an old friend you’ve lost touch with. You don’t know where it could lead.
-Matthew
An interesting graphic, from Tim Urban: “We underestimate future possibilities (and) we overestimate the time we have left with those we love.”
Six things I learned and found interesting this week:
Tyler Winklevoss, via the Casey Adams Show, on reading
"The ultimate skill, the meta skill, is reading. Thirty minutes of reading a day, even if you’re a slow reader, (equals) 50 books a year. Most people make the mistake, ‘Oh, I need all this time.’ They don’t chunk things enough. Ten minutes, a couple of times a day, 30 minutes a day, that’s 50 books a year. In 10 years, you’ll have read 500 books. You could be one of the most well-read people on Earth. You will learn so much. That’s the ultimate life skill.”
Coach K, butterflies and beautiful reminders
Coach K, who is retiring, believes his late mother still watches over him, sometimes in the form of a butterfly. Here’s ESPN’s Wright Thompson: “She loved them. His wife, Mickie Krzyzewski, planted bushes in their backyard that attract them. So around the time he announced his plans to retire from the game that had defined his life, a butterfly landed on his car. He stood and watched, and the thing refused to move. It just sat there, and so he waited too. Finally he needed to go. He leaned toward the butterfly. ‘All right, Mom,’ he said, and it -- she -- finally flew away.”
Money, fame and accolades don’t necessarily rid one’s burden
Later in the story, Coach K’s daughter, Debbie, explains what he’s struggled with most in his life. Despite a long, brilliant career full of money and winning, he’s not immune to enormous stress, anxiety and self-doubt. “Her dad carries a lot of invisible burdens, wanting desperately to be all things for all people. ‘I think the thing he's struggled with most in his life is forgiveness of himself,’ she says.
“Basic nowness” is always here
In “When Things Fall Apart,” Pema Chödrön writes that life isn’t about bouncing from issue to issue, stressor to stressor, hopeful that one day we will “arrive,” and we’ll be fully happy. Let life happen, she writes, and move energy away from the urge to fix everything. She reminds us that life is always in transition.
“We are not trying to solve a problem,” she writes. “We are not striving to make pain go away or to become a better person. In fact, we are giving up control altogether and letting concepts and ideals fall apart. This starts with realizing that whatever occurs is neither the beginning nor the end. It is just the same kind of normal human experience that’s been happening to everyday people from the beginning of time. Thoughts, emotions, moods, and memories come and they go, and basic nowness is always here.”
The power of intellectual passion
The writer Michael Lewis (Moneyball, Liar’s Poker, The Big Short) was fresh out of Princeton when he landed a high-paying job at the now-defunct investment bank Salomon Brothers. In a 2012 speech at Princeton, he said that “Wall Street had become so unhinged that it was paying recent Princeton graduates who knew nothing about money small fortunes to pretend to be experts about money.” Yet he quit the job that promised him millions so he could write a book for an advance of 40 grand. “I knew what intellectual passion felt like — because I’d felt it here, at Princeton — and I wanted to feel it again,” he said. “I was 26 years old. Had I waited until I was 36, I would never have done it. I would have forgotten the feeling.”
After a loved one’s death, living in their honor might be the best we can do
Lewis, now 61, lost his daughter, Dixie, last year in a car crash. She was 19. He said on Andrew Sullivan’s “The Dishcast” podcast that a “hole has been blown” in his family’s life, and “the question is what do you grow in that hole and how do you grow from this experience?” Lewis said it was the hardest thing he’s been through. “I’ve been asking myself why do I feel so depleted and I think it’s because I think your mind maps a kind of reality at any given time and you kind of have an imagined future, and that child is in that future,” he said. “I loved her so much and it’s a loss that is just very hard to describe…She was brave, she worked her ass off, she tried hard. I was so proud of her. The best thing I can do is live really well in her honor. It’s the best thing I can do, so that’s what I intend to do and find some way to make beautiful things that might not have been made otherwise because of it.”
Photo of the week: My dad and I made a pit stop at Que Ricas, a delicious Venezuelan restaurant in Westmont, N.J. Someone had launched a “Pay it forward” program by erecting a bulletin board for anyone to buy a meal for fellow humans who are less fortunate.
Quote I’m pondering: "The best things in life aren’t things.” — Art Buchwald
Be joyful and celebrate your gifts,
Matthew
P.S. — Send this email to three friends, encourage them to sign up, and I’ll send you a copy of “The Way to Love,” a warm, compassionate collection of meditations by spiritual master Anthony de Mello. Just reply to this email letting me know you passed it on to friends, and include the best delivery address.