I'm grateful for my good health and financial security and will look forward to embracing the passions that sustain me.
I'm fortunate to have a lifelong partner and loving daughter who share my values and a new grandson with whom I will spend as much time as possible through my remaining years.
I pledge to continue reflecting here regularly and will anticipate you joining me to celebrate moments of hope and joy.
If asked to rate yourself as a listener - with one being poor and ten being exceptional - what would you say? How closely do you suppose your self-score would match how others see you?
You're Not Listening: What You're Missing and Why It Matters (2019) will stick with me. I know this because my extensive notes on Kate Murphy's carefully researched and skillfully presented book are a potent combination of the following:
* New learning: Being exposed to the psychological phenomenon called "closeness communication bias" provided powerful insight into how easy it can be to stop listening carefully in any long-term relationship, i.e., "We think we already know what the other person will say."
* Questions to ask others about their listening skills and ... using the same questions to more carefully examine my own listening skills: Start with the two questions opening this post. Then explore others that came to me as an accompaniment to my new learning, like ... Which people close to you do you have difficulty listening to? What makes listening to them difficult? What does the difficulty you're having with that person - as a listener - say about you? Which of your listening behaviors might turn off people who are speaking to you?
* Straightforward, sharp prose: "Perhaps the greatest barrier to keeping our minds on track and following someone's narrative is the nagging concern about what we're going to say when it's our turn." Or... "Secure people don't decide others are irredeemably stupid or malicious without knowing who they are as individuals. People are so much more than their labels or political positions." That's just a small taste.
Without question, You're Not Listening is the best book of its type I've finished since Sherry Turkle blew me away in 2015 with Reclaiming Conversation. And though the research cited in both books supports my own belief that the unceasing distraction of ubiquitous cell phones has helped to create a culture where empathic listening is increasingly at risk, both books are also hopeful. Each offers practical advice on reining in the technology. I believe we need books like these to rescue us from ourselves.
I require neither an excuse nor permission to be weird. But October 31 is the one day each year even the most buttoned-up can let it rip. How did you transform yourself today? If you didn't, why not?
OK, if you didn't get weird today, here are two ideas for next Halloween. If you use either in 2025, make a note to return here and give me a report on how it went. It's OK to steal my stuff but at least have the decency to let me know the results.
* Have you lived in a well-established neighborhood a long time and paid enough attention through the years to how your neighbors dress? How about a neighborhood party - definitely want to include drinking at this party - where everyone dresses as someone from the neighborhood? Enliven it by awarding a prize to whoever does the best job simulating a neighbor's look/couture. FYI, I suggested this to folks in the first neighborhood where my wife and I owned a home. It didn't take off. However, I'm reasonably sure that happened because I made it too risky for some of my highly hetero male neighbors by suggesting opposite gender roles for costumes. Learn from my mistake and keep the men as other men and the women as other women. Boring, but more likely to launch.Of the many rationales I've heard from men throughout my life - starting with my father - why they don't read fiction, the one that has most consistently befuddled me is "I read for information."
While immersed in Imagine Me Gone (2016), there were moments when my befuddlement with that rationale took on an odd aspect. Adam Haslett's novel - told by five first person narrators - examines the toll that mental illness invariably takes on a family. It is often painfully sad. But as I finished, it occurred to me that some of the sadness I felt during this exceptional reading experience might be connected to men I've known who "read for information". Given those limits, isn't it likely Haslett's masterful exploration of the human condition would bypass most of them? Predictably, the men most dear to me who would've been excluded, including my Dad, were foremost in my reflections.
Of course, any man - those in my life or otherwise - could easily read a textbook, non-fiction account of any length, case study, etc., covering mental illness vs. family dynamics for "information". I submit none of that information would stay with any man - or woman - like Imagine Me Gone will stay with me.
For years now, I've regularly tweaked the layout on my home page to make use of the widgets called Featured Post and Popular Posts. Sincere thanks to those of you who have clicked any of the posts that have appeared under either heading, no matter how infrequently.
Because of Blogger's robust analytics, it's easy to know how many new views these posts get. For some time, my arbitrary threshold for changing the Featured Post widget - located on the left of the home page - has been to do so after that single post gets twenty new views. When that happens, it reminds me to switch the grouping of Popular Posts - "all time", over the last year, last thirty, or last seven days - located on the right side.
I have no way of knowing how many of those views mean someone has actually read the featured post I've exhumed from my archives. But based on new comments received and offline responses, I'm often confident at least a few people are paying attention, sometimes. Call me needy; I consider this a small success, my version of getting a royalty check for .50 for a song that was popular sometime in the 60s and got some recent airplay or sold a record or two in a bargain bin in Omaha. Except, I don't get paid; oh well - details.
Unpaid royalties aside, there have been more than a few days I've been sustained by someone who reacts to an old post, featured or "popular". And though I've been tempted to edit my old work more times than I can count, it has also been gratifying when an old post gets a reaction but holds up under my scrutiny - another small success. What small successes have you recently had?
Though nine evenings still remain in October, my record for most movies watched in one month has already been shattered. Lest anybody be tempted to recommend medication, I'll keep the number to myself. I will confess we're already talking double digits. Really.
Duly chastened as I am about the hours I've spent indulging my indiscriminate film jones this month, I offer two mitigating factors in meager defense. See if you can relate at all.
* I've spent over ten hours on airplanes. I had books and my journal. Mediation or listening to music were additional options. I did end up doing a little reading. But the lure of that tiny screen in my face undid me. Then, scanning the choices, I was overwhelmed, pathetically, in both directions. Watched two on the way to L.A. and one on the way home. Only one will stick: Carlos, a documentary about the incomparable Carlos Santana.
* The TV in our two week rental in L.A. dominated the living space. There was a door to the bedroom that could be shut when I played guitar, meditated, read, or wrote. However, there's a solid reason why the only TV in our home is not in our living space. If it were, it's possible I'd be regularly searching the streaming services for the latest and, in many cases, not so greatest movies. In our rental, I was thoughtlessly ensnared in that trap. Saw a few OK documentaries, went gaga watching Vera Drake - a Mike Leigh gem from 2004 - but otherwise squandered some serious time. Low point? There was significant competition for that dubious distinction, but my near-complete disillusionment with Stand By Me - a Rob Reiner film I've held in high esteem for many years - landed with a thud on a re-watch. Should have played the guitar or something.
If only I'd gone into the bedroom more vs. getting continually mesmerized by that big screen. In the meanwhile, since returning home, I will not claim total abstinence. But my film consumption is now under control again. Don't ask exactly what that means; allow me a little dignity. Besides, the record has already been broken. What's the harm now?
Perhaps my continuing journey into Act Three is at play here. But how many of you have also noticed the disconnect that can separate introspection and optimism? For example, on days when this optimist is in a more introspective space, the probable "lasts" in my remaining life come more easily into focus than the likely "firsts". Does this make my optimism suspect? Or does it render me more realistic?
Either way, beginning when my first grandchild entered the world, I made a pledge. Each time a probable "last" crosses this introspective optimist/realist's mind - e.g., my trip to Africa this past winter might be my last - I will immediately capture an actual "first" in my journal. I've been pleased to discover how easy this has been these past two weeks. Doing it has also fortified my optimist bona fides. Directly below are three recent firsts that helped provide some ballast for three probable "lasts" that popped into my head in some recent moments of introspection. I'll spare you those gloomy bits.
* Played my first-ever applause-worthy guitar solo in an open jazz jam session.
* Was grateful having a cell phone nearby for the first time, in the hours leading up to and after the birth of my grandson.
* Had my first experience with acupuncture.
Why not join me? Doesn't matter if you consider yourself an optimist, realist, pessimist, anythingist. Also doesn't matter if you introspect more than, as frequently, or less than me. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised about the light this brings to you.