There are many things I remember. I remember past experiences where I felt I was living into the vision that was given to me as a gift. Namely, I remember those times when my work and words and state of being expressed a deep connection to the Spirit that shone a light in my path. There were those moments when my mother took me to a nursing home and I “performed” for the residents. There were those moments when my mom took me to visit “shut ins” and I entertained them with stories and experiences and they laughed until tears came to their eyes. I remember finding the right gift, the right story, the right words, for someone who stood/sat in the shadows and I was able to bring them into the life of the circle, to help them feel connected and whole. I remember all of those times like they were yesterday.
I also remember all of the times when I knew I had let other down, when my words failed to meet the need, when my words were ill-considered, when the spirit of my expression did more harm than good. And I am humble enough to know that for every one of those times that I remember there would be tens of times more that I said and did things that hurt others without ever knowing. And here I do not refer to times when I hurt others less because of a lack of compassion but rather because the other was just so fragile and easily hurt that anyone saying anything would do cause grievance. I do not regret or lament those experiences, it is not my fault to hurt someone who wakes up every morning expecting to be aggrieved. But I do know that I am not always aware of the effect my words and actions have and I know there have been instances where I have caused pain without knowing.
When we are at our last days all of these remembrances will come to our minds, filling us with regret and joy, hopefully in equal measure. I have no expectation of either being overridden with guilt for my inaction or ill-considered action or of sitting on some comfy chair and thinking my life an endless series of pep-talks and inspirational conversations. I know better. I know I can heal and help and harm.
So the question is this, given that I am 55 years of age what can I glean from this certain knowing to make me a better person now? Life is short and there are primary relationships with spouse and daughter that need attention and care. But life is about more than primary relationships. With others I need to be fair, kind, honest, cooperative, and flexible. I need to tell the truth and stand ready to hear the truth said about me. The price of my friendship is a two-way honestly, people whom I call friend are people I can be honest with and people who can be honest with me. No histrionics, no exaggerations, to “I love you” today and “I hate you” tomorrow, but rather a challenging, funny, measured, stimulating and caring other to share time with, to create memories with, to celebrate life with.
I don’t want sycophants or drama kings, I don’t need victims or know-it-alls, and I don’t need someone in my life who believes they were born to “fix” me. What I want from others in this short fragile life is a keen sense of adventure, of laughing at the ridiculous (that includes us) and finding purpose everywhere, with everyone, at every time. I want to remember what was important, the good and bad, the beautiful and ugly, others and me. There is soon coming a time when I will be less and less with others and will be more and more alone with my thoughts and memories. Sorting out when is worth remembering and what is not is the task of these maturing years. And so it goes…