"When in doubt, write."
I tell myself this often and while it hasn't solved all of my problems or unfailingly steered me away from every disaster, it has provided enough clarity through pause that I am usually able to go through most days without irreparably hurting myself or badly wounding another.
I learned this from my father. Not necessarily the part about writing before I leap, but the part about pausing long enough before I take that proverbial plunge to consider the risk of injury to myself and, more importantly, to someone else.
My father is big on theoretical bridge maintenance. His theory being that you never know when you might have to do some reverse crossings, which are much easier if you've retained access to that bridge rather than having to forage your way back through the mucky waters of the mess you've created; all against the hard tide of bad feelings and regret .
He is right, you know.
Of course, there are always those times when honor, reason, logic and safety mandate radical bridge burning, but those instances are rare and you can always tell when it is necessary by the state of your emotions while in the process of detonating: A feeling of impartial, centered grace endorses the obliteration; a twisted knot of retributive gratification signals the need for another meeting between the dual mind of conscience and petty conceit.
He trained me to notice the nuanced messages from heart to mind and back again that will alert me to my true motivation; to it's purity and whether it maintains closer ties to the ego or the higher instincts of inspired understanding. He told me that these crucial missives are whispered and that I would have to kneel close to the center of objectivity to hear them.
He taught me that while it is perfectly alright to recognize and entertain one's ego, it is a potentially risky business to place it at the helm of our decision-making process. It's narcissistic and insatiable quest to seek it's own rewards irrespective of the collateral damages that result is a clear indication of it's flawed design.
Reason follows that it's best to wait until all the bugs are ironed out before featuring one's ego in any significant capacity. This is not likely to happen in our lifetime.
Reason follows that it's best to wait until all the bugs are ironed out before featuring one's ego in any significant capacity. This is not likely to happen in our lifetime.
He believes in keeping our initial negative, critical and petulant opinions about life and others largely to ourselves and honoring that purgative pause to reinstate objectivity and calm so that truth has half a chance of being recognized. He says that it is always better to error in the privacy of one's own mind than to broadcast your ignorance to the world. God may know you are an idiot but there is no reason to share that unfortunate revelation with everyone else.
He taught my sister, brothers and I that there is no shame in being unique; adhering to our own higher principles through the gracious insurgency of a decent life but that it is a keen indication of self-righteousness and pride not to extend that same latitude to others.
My father is a very educated, erudite man. He has lived an honorable, successful and impressive life. But he would not want me to list the specifics since it would go against one of his principle tenants in living rightly, which is to cultivate humility ceaselessly and dispense charity liberally.
His generosity is legend among those who know him although it has only been through the backdoor of third-party communications that I have been able to learn about the actual depth and breadth of his charity.
You will never hear him speak of these things.
And it is perhaps as a direct result of this selflessness that he possesses what I consider to be the most important trait of all: He remains cheerful and full of gratitude every single day no matter what.
In the past eleven years the man has suffered prostate cancer, a broken neck, a heart attack, a stroke, several severe falls, has become an insulin-dependent diabetic; and if that is not job-like enough, he was hit also by a car while walking his dog and suffered serious injuries to both of his hands as well as to his face and body.
I can barely remember a day in over a decade when he has not been in significant physical discomfort, and yet neither can I recall a day when he has not ushered himself through it with a smile on his face and, usually, humming a jaunty, if not entirely recognizable tune.
He has taught me that happiness is compelling, contagious and approachable so that when you smile, others will draw close and be comforted. You become a healer and a counselor without having or needing to say one word. And that by it's very nature happiness implies forgiveness, strength and hope, which are admirable assets to anyone's catalogue of human aspirations.
Today my Dad celebrates his 80th birthday; a tenure on earth that by sheer number inspires a sort of reverent homage to tenacity.
Yet because of his exceptional life and the even more exceptional way he has conducted himself throughout all of it, this birthday demands more recognition and respect than it is possible to convey from this distance and within the limitations of my small laptop.
But I have learned well from him and will interject Happy into every corner of my own gratitude at my good fortune in having him as my father. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DAD! I LOVE YOU!
