One April Morning

I just came across this beautiful clip (courtesy of Thought Catalogue, my new favourite haunt). A Johnny Cash cover of Nine Inch Nails' "Hurt", sung with a fragility and honesty that stirred me.

Listening to Johnny reminded me how youth-obsessed our society is, and how misplaced that obsession has become. His voice may not be as strong or pure as it once was, but the feeling that he brings to the pain and regret inherent in the song is divine. With his experience came wisdom, which makes its fruit all the more precious.

I think the same goes for life in general.

My Pop had a bad fall this week. And one of the things I realised during his precarious first few days in hospital (aside from not visiting or telling him how much I love him nearly as much as I should) was that I still have so much to learn from him. The elderly tend to be ignored a little; swept to the margins in favour of the excitement of newer, fresher blood. But what we forget is that they can teach us much more than we can teach ourselves, because they have already lived it. It may have been a different era, with slower technology and unfamiliar means, but nothing much really changes all that much. Not the important things.

Yesterday, via her blog, Sarah Wilson introduced me to a TED talk that moved me to tears. The speaker's name is Brene Brown, and she talks about wholeheartedness.

To put it simply...

I love it.

I think Brene has invoked such a strong response because she has pinpointed exactly what is holding so many of us back. Fear is often cited; but shame, specifically, is what we tend to hide behind. As Brene says, there are no clear rules or steps we can take as a means of shedding that shame. It's simply a case of embracing  our true selves; and perceiving the unconditional love we have for ourselves as a safe harbour always waiting to welcome us from the deep, dark world beyond, no matter what happens in its depths. With that security will come the courage to be vulnerable; to feel, to love, to desire, to connect with our whole hearts.

Wholeheartedly.

— Mitch Albom

I recently heard a very intelligent lady say that she hates the word "tolerence".

Tolerance suggests that to be unprejudiced towards something that is different from us, to endure it and allow it to occur without interference despite disliking or disagreeing with it, requires some sort of generosity on our part. When, really, unless something is harmful to us, there is no need to tolerate anything.* Accept, yes. Embrace, yes. But tolerate? 

I had never thought of it that way before. But I think she's right.

The concept of tolerance is an evasion. It legitimises people's prejudices, while praising them for refraining from acting upon those prejudices - which shouldn't exist in the first place.

Maybe we should quit focusing on trying to be tolerant and start working on being truly open-minded and empathetic. Or, equally importantly, not caring about things that don't affect our lives, like girls wearing leggings as pants, our taxi driver speaking Arabic and two people who love each other being allowed to get married even though they are both men.

Because, really. If our own lives fulfil and propel us to a point where we feel good about ourselves and secure in who we are, why on earth would we have the desire to limit the rights and freedoms of others?

*Come to think of it, harmful practices should not be tolerated either. (They should be quashed.) So perhaps tolerance is obsolete altogether.

Julie Delpy's character Celine really captures what I think is the essence of love, right here in this line.

If there were a test as to whether you truly love someone, I think it would be...
1. Loving them for a long time; and
2. Realising that, over that time, your love for them is growing, not fading. The more you know them, the more familiar you are them (with their virtues and flaws and quirks and habits and affectations), the more you adore them. The more you miss them when they are gone. The more you cherish their company. The more you want to share with them. The more their happiness means to you.

That's love!

And this...

I think every one of us has experienced the "shock treatment" Anaïs writes of. It is that spark of inspiration we feel when we come across someone or something that simply speaks to our heart. You know, that "ah ha" moment that gives us the impression that we are sharing our lives with others; that we are not the "only one". Sometimes that glimmering revelation reflects our deepest, darkest fears. Other times we are presented with what our lives are missing. Perhaps we may be reminded of the past; a forgotten moment, feeling or hope. These epiphanies shake us to our core, waking us up from the routine of our everyday lives and prompting us to reassess. It may be that we have meandered from our course; it could be that an unrealised dream lies laden within us; we may have lost our spirit; or, alternatively, we are on the right path, but harbour unfounded self-doubts. Whatever it is that we discover, we have been granted the opportunity to resume our lives with a newfound consciousness, afresh.

It is a Sad, Beautiful Fact That We're Going To Miss Almost Everything, as Linda Holmes wrote for NPR not long ago. She asserts that there are two ways we can handle this realisation: culling or surrendering. 

For me, I prefer surrendering. Culling reduces possibilities that could lead somewhere wonderful. I like to  surrender and wander, meander, allowing myself to be led somewhere I could never have discovered on my own had I been purposeful and methodical. Aimlessly searching, making time for mindless browsing, is how I  find pictures, discover poems, chance upon brilliant ideas. I found Haruki Murakami looking for quotes on memories for a manuscript I was writing at the time. I found Anais Nin whilst browsing the margins of a Paris tour guide.

I also think it is important to stay abreast of popular culture, no matter how mindless and shallow it seems to be, and how high above it we consider ourselves. I don't mean that it's necessary to appreciate it, or be a slave to it... but just to understand the direction things are going (and, if need be, to actively stay out of it, rebel against it). We are, after all, all part of the same vast world, and for different people, far away from each other, to connect over time and space through art, ideas and stories is one of the most beautiful things we can experience.

"That is part of the beauty of all literature. You discover that your longings are universal longings, that you're not lonely and isolated from anyone. You belong."
— F. Scott Fitzgerald

Last night I was  thinking about what I admire in others. It occurred to me that some  people who have crossed my path embodied a magical -like presence that lit up my life. I craved their attention, treasured their company and savoured their words. And, upon thinking about it, they all had one virtue in common. It was not charm, or charisma, or beauty; it was generosity.

I wrote about generosity a little while ago. What I have since realised since is that generosity doesn't have to involve money, things or even charity. The simplest and purest form of generosity is just being generous with yourself; with your own time, energy and compassion.

Listening

Sharing ideas and wisdom

Allowing people to learn from your experience

Offering thoughtful advice

Reading between the lines

Encouraging

Praising

Finding special qualities in others

Addressing people by their names

Staying in touch

Turning up, being there

Remembering

Telling the truth

Saying what we mean, and meaning what we say

Keeping promises

All these things are easy to do, if we try and, crucially, have the confidence within ourselves to believe that our generosity will provide something valuable to others. Or, maybe, we can spin that cycle anti-clockwise and slowly build our confidence as we open up our hearts to others despite our fear of unworthiness. We are all worthy, in our own way; so withholding ourselves is not only an act of self-preservation, but also one of selfishness (which should not invoke guilt but empowerment). For, if nothing else, aren't we, and our life stories, all the more valuable by lighting up other people's lives?

I really enjoy making lists of things to do which include inconsequential things that I would have done anyway. It gives me a sense of undeserved yet still satisfying accomplishment.

Things to do today:

. Sleep in.
. Read Sarah Wilson's Sunday Life column.
. Do the dishes.
. Watch Dead Poets Society.

. Finish Wild Sheep Chase by Haruki Murakami.

. Go for a walk in the park.

. Eat an apple.
. Water the herb garden. (Don't forget as usual.)

It's the little things that make up our days, that make up our lives.

Ira Glass' advice to beginners is just so comforting to me.

I am never happy with anything I write. It's not deep enough, not original, not interesting, not flowing, not perfect in the slightest. 

But his words also frustrate me. I don't want to have to wait an indefinite "while". I want to be good now!

I suppose the only thing I can do is take his advice and keep working. And working and working. Until I finally get to a point where I meet my own expectations.

I just read a brilliant New York Times Op Ed piece by Jonathon Franzen, adapted from a college commencement speech he delivered in May. He encourages young people not to resort to "liking", but to love... which involves courage and potentially, hurt.

Here Franzen reminded me of a line in Adele's Someone Like You... the heart-breaking plea "don't forget me, I beg" articulates the perennial nightmare of being forgettable, replaceable. So, to avoid that nightmare, we hold ourselves back. We limit our hearts to "liking" - not just in the Facebook sense, but also in our relationships,  our friendships, our careers, our dreams. And by protecting ourselves from hurt and rejection, we are missing out.