The title of this post comes from one of my favorite movies, Mr. Jealousy, by one of my favorite directors, Noah Baumbach. The story takes place in New York City, and one of the characters, all grown up (at thirty), meets a friend for coffee in the middle of the workday. She remarks, in a meta-way, that she feels so adult, going for coffee - it's so romantic and glitzy.
I know what she means. Have you had those moments in your life, when you think, "Oh, THIS is what I pictured my life would be like, way back when when I pictured my life."? Maybe there's some image you formed of "adult" life - for me, it was seeing adult-themed movies when I was too young to really understand them (I remember liking Broadcast News and Out of Africa as a teen but I didn't really get it until I was much older).
You think, oh, that's what adults do, and that's what I will do, someday. But for me, someday came around and it wasn't at all like I'd imagined adult life to be. It's only once in a while I have a moment of recognizing that image as matching my current actual life. Sometimes I get antsy and wonder why my life doesn't match those idea. Is it supposed to? I was reading some Pema Chodron today and was reminded that life is more about recognizing what is already there, what actually IS instead of what is expected. The Zen view, the Alan Watts view - MY own view, I recall - is that beauty of the world is (apparently) perfect in every moment, if only we could see it.
Many of the wise, in fact, endorse the idea that progress - however you define it - comes only from removing obstacles, taking away what does not belong, rather than actively making something happen. Michaelangelo famously said he just carves away whatever marble doesn't belong; that is how he liberates the figure which is *already* inside there. It's kind of like the idea of getting out of own's own way - making something happen AS you let it happen. It reminds me of one of the great eternal apredicaments in the human religious experience: in order to achieve a state of grace, one must make an effort - BUT no amount of effort can bring about a state of grace. You cannot deserve it, but unless you do something to deserve it, you cannot achieve it.
So, with all that in our minds, let me describe a recent event which, in my mind, was exemplary of life in progress - partially in some way I've always imagined and partially in some way I was utterly surprised by.
Yesterday, I had a long day at work in which I had to visit four stores, one of them as far south as Monterey, which is a bit of a stretch even on the best days, and I was carpooling and had scheduled this particular type of meeting that always runs long. They did run long, and we ran late, and by the fourth store, my carpool partner had to get on the road, so I was dropped off in Palo Alto, knowing I could catch the Caltrain back. I did my meeting (it ran long) and decided to eat in Palo Alto. I caught the later train back, but still apparently a semi-express, and it shot past Millbrae where I had planned on catching the BART. It went right from San Mateo into the SF Downtown end of the line, where I found myself stuck and tired as the sun started to slink down.
I'll catch a cab, I thought - I was not going home, but to where I'd left my car at my carpool partner's, so it was even additionally inconvenient; it would not be too far. But alas, I discovered a cab line, with maybe six or seven parties in it. I decided to take a chance - it's a San Franciscian thing to do - so I walked to where I could address the entire line, and said loudly "Is anyone going to Bernal Heights?"
Immediately the cutest, hippiest-looking guy (alone) shot up his hand and said "I am!" Everyone else - who had briefly looked at me, ready to consider my offer had it been for them - turned back to their business, satisfied that we'd made our encounter, secure they they still lived in a cool urban center, where it's not weird at all to share a cab with a stranger but instead speaks of a sort of cosmopolitan savvy. I approached this guy, both of us smiling inwardly at our shared savvy. He stuck out his hand with some energy and said, "I'm Owen, Cortland and Ellis." I introduced myself and had to explain I was just parked in Bernal Heights but did not live there.
He seemed a little crestfallen so I asked him what he did, and he perked up and said he was the Creative Director for a small local company that makes iPhone and MacBook covers. He told me a little bit about it, and then asked what I did. I told him and he he immediately perked up even more. He wanted to talk about our public image, our brand development. Despite the fact that I have nothing to do with those things at our company - I am not in Marketing, although I work with them all the time - I could speak intelligently, because, after all these years at the company, I know a lot of it well, even if it's not my area. He was quite happy to talk shop all the way home.
Our desired drop off spots were only a block from each other, and we marveled at how delightful our lucky coincidence was. Look at us, we said silently. Instead of rejoicing over our savings, Owen summed it up when he said, "What more can you ask from a shared cab ride than an interesting conversation?"
We parted amicably, and, for my part, a bit enchanted. Chance encounters often are. You come away from them with a sort of "wow...gee whiz"-ness. There are still things like that. You're filled with hope. And why? It was just some random people getting along, in this instance - not a big deal, not too much of a big deal. But still, random people getting along - that's not bad. That's okay. That's a beginning. If random people get along, then what about all that talk of the dark default setting of the human heart? What about all we've been told about being a fallen race, or that the center does not hold; but whatever sort of not very hopeful / not very helpful idea of reality we get fed, we still experience the sheer joy of existence sometimes. Or I do, anyway.
One thing I've noticed is that one must be open to receiving these experiences, because they come unannounced and unlooked for. They arrive at odd moments, unexpected, and even though afterwards they seem to have been perfectly in line with everything else (my life, it seems, only makes sense in retrospect), they seem foreign when they appear. Which is why it's so important to have those hands of willingness. Magic, Caroline Casey says, is simply the willingness to cooperate with everything.
It doesn't have to be a big deal It can be as simple as stepping out in front of a line of strangers and asking for collaboration. Taking a risk. Asking for what you want, and trusting that it's OK to do so, that the universe will either serve up what you want (often not what you THINK you wanted, but what you really do want) or will give you very useful direction. The universe does not leave you hanging. The universe is interested in what happens, and it wants to play. Do you want to play with me, was really what I was asking. To everyone else it sounded like "Is anyone going to Bernal Heights." And good old Owen, having heard my actual question ("Woof, woof, want to play?"), whether he knew it or not, thrust out his willing hand, and off we went.
Was it a big deal? No. Did I make a new friend? Doubtful - no one can say what the future hold. We exchanged business cards, like all good Gen X/Y San Franciscans do at the end of a shared cab ride, so you never know where that will go. But in all likelihood, that was my moment in the sun with Owen. That was probably our entire relationship.
But my point is, so what? It was still a great relationship. Do you need time to enjoy another human being? Do you need depth and knowledge and background and understanding? No. Sometimes that's nice - it can help. My family, my partner - I enjoy how the years have deepened us, but it's not, strictly speaking, necessary. But you don't need it. Owen and I had a wonderful relationship in our 15 - 20 minutes together.
And this is how I saw my life, when I imagined it when I was a kid. I always thought the world was kind and fun, and people all around you would be interesting in playing and having fun. It was a child's version of romantic and glitzy....I imagined gowns and Frisbee games and good books. I didn't know what juciy things were out there but I expected there were a lot, and I was excited to grow up and get out there.
Not everyone has a childhood like this - many people I know grew up worrying about monsters and fire and whatnot. I was lucky - I'm not saying it was all unicorns and rainbows; there was some dark stuff in the family closets - but overall, I grew up with the default idea that I would like the world and the world would like me.
I still have that idea. It's been battered about and worn down at times - the soulless minons of orthodoxy are everywhere - but it's also been bolstered and shored up at times. My cab ride with Owen was a time of healing, a time of restoring faith. It was fitting perfectly not only with my imagined dream of a beautiful world, it was also unfolding before me, fresh and new and unexpected at every turn. I knew good things would be coming, I just did not know what, and here was a what. Owen was the answer the to the question I'm always asking - of what is there to see? What will my (adult) life hold? Who can I encounter in this endless game of hide and seek? What will We think of next? After all is, the work of life, isn't it?
And if not, I saved like eight bucks!
I know what she means. Have you had those moments in your life, when you think, "Oh, THIS is what I pictured my life would be like, way back when when I pictured my life."? Maybe there's some image you formed of "adult" life - for me, it was seeing adult-themed movies when I was too young to really understand them (I remember liking Broadcast News and Out of Africa as a teen but I didn't really get it until I was much older).
You think, oh, that's what adults do, and that's what I will do, someday. But for me, someday came around and it wasn't at all like I'd imagined adult life to be. It's only once in a while I have a moment of recognizing that image as matching my current actual life. Sometimes I get antsy and wonder why my life doesn't match those idea. Is it supposed to? I was reading some Pema Chodron today and was reminded that life is more about recognizing what is already there, what actually IS instead of what is expected. The Zen view, the Alan Watts view - MY own view, I recall - is that beauty of the world is (apparently) perfect in every moment, if only we could see it.
Many of the wise, in fact, endorse the idea that progress - however you define it - comes only from removing obstacles, taking away what does not belong, rather than actively making something happen. Michaelangelo famously said he just carves away whatever marble doesn't belong; that is how he liberates the figure which is *already* inside there. It's kind of like the idea of getting out of own's own way - making something happen AS you let it happen. It reminds me of one of the great eternal apredicaments in the human religious experience: in order to achieve a state of grace, one must make an effort - BUT no amount of effort can bring about a state of grace. You cannot deserve it, but unless you do something to deserve it, you cannot achieve it.
So, with all that in our minds, let me describe a recent event which, in my mind, was exemplary of life in progress - partially in some way I've always imagined and partially in some way I was utterly surprised by.
Yesterday, I had a long day at work in which I had to visit four stores, one of them as far south as Monterey, which is a bit of a stretch even on the best days, and I was carpooling and had scheduled this particular type of meeting that always runs long. They did run long, and we ran late, and by the fourth store, my carpool partner had to get on the road, so I was dropped off in Palo Alto, knowing I could catch the Caltrain back. I did my meeting (it ran long) and decided to eat in Palo Alto. I caught the later train back, but still apparently a semi-express, and it shot past Millbrae where I had planned on catching the BART. It went right from San Mateo into the SF Downtown end of the line, where I found myself stuck and tired as the sun started to slink down.
I'll catch a cab, I thought - I was not going home, but to where I'd left my car at my carpool partner's, so it was even additionally inconvenient; it would not be too far. But alas, I discovered a cab line, with maybe six or seven parties in it. I decided to take a chance - it's a San Franciscian thing to do - so I walked to where I could address the entire line, and said loudly "Is anyone going to Bernal Heights?"
Immediately the cutest, hippiest-looking guy (alone) shot up his hand and said "I am!" Everyone else - who had briefly looked at me, ready to consider my offer had it been for them - turned back to their business, satisfied that we'd made our encounter, secure they they still lived in a cool urban center, where it's not weird at all to share a cab with a stranger but instead speaks of a sort of cosmopolitan savvy. I approached this guy, both of us smiling inwardly at our shared savvy. He stuck out his hand with some energy and said, "I'm Owen, Cortland and Ellis." I introduced myself and had to explain I was just parked in Bernal Heights but did not live there.
He seemed a little crestfallen so I asked him what he did, and he perked up and said he was the Creative Director for a small local company that makes iPhone and MacBook covers. He told me a little bit about it, and then asked what I did. I told him and he he immediately perked up even more. He wanted to talk about our public image, our brand development. Despite the fact that I have nothing to do with those things at our company - I am not in Marketing, although I work with them all the time - I could speak intelligently, because, after all these years at the company, I know a lot of it well, even if it's not my area. He was quite happy to talk shop all the way home.
Our desired drop off spots were only a block from each other, and we marveled at how delightful our lucky coincidence was. Look at us, we said silently. Instead of rejoicing over our savings, Owen summed it up when he said, "What more can you ask from a shared cab ride than an interesting conversation?"
We parted amicably, and, for my part, a bit enchanted. Chance encounters often are. You come away from them with a sort of "wow...gee whiz"-ness. There are still things like that. You're filled with hope. And why? It was just some random people getting along, in this instance - not a big deal, not too much of a big deal. But still, random people getting along - that's not bad. That's okay. That's a beginning. If random people get along, then what about all that talk of the dark default setting of the human heart? What about all we've been told about being a fallen race, or that the center does not hold; but whatever sort of not very hopeful / not very helpful idea of reality we get fed, we still experience the sheer joy of existence sometimes. Or I do, anyway.
One thing I've noticed is that one must be open to receiving these experiences, because they come unannounced and unlooked for. They arrive at odd moments, unexpected, and even though afterwards they seem to have been perfectly in line with everything else (my life, it seems, only makes sense in retrospect), they seem foreign when they appear. Which is why it's so important to have those hands of willingness. Magic, Caroline Casey says, is simply the willingness to cooperate with everything.
It doesn't have to be a big deal It can be as simple as stepping out in front of a line of strangers and asking for collaboration. Taking a risk. Asking for what you want, and trusting that it's OK to do so, that the universe will either serve up what you want (often not what you THINK you wanted, but what you really do want) or will give you very useful direction. The universe does not leave you hanging. The universe is interested in what happens, and it wants to play. Do you want to play with me, was really what I was asking. To everyone else it sounded like "Is anyone going to Bernal Heights." And good old Owen, having heard my actual question ("Woof, woof, want to play?"), whether he knew it or not, thrust out his willing hand, and off we went.
Was it a big deal? No. Did I make a new friend? Doubtful - no one can say what the future hold. We exchanged business cards, like all good Gen X/Y San Franciscans do at the end of a shared cab ride, so you never know where that will go. But in all likelihood, that was my moment in the sun with Owen. That was probably our entire relationship.
But my point is, so what? It was still a great relationship. Do you need time to enjoy another human being? Do you need depth and knowledge and background and understanding? No. Sometimes that's nice - it can help. My family, my partner - I enjoy how the years have deepened us, but it's not, strictly speaking, necessary. But you don't need it. Owen and I had a wonderful relationship in our 15 - 20 minutes together.
And this is how I saw my life, when I imagined it when I was a kid. I always thought the world was kind and fun, and people all around you would be interesting in playing and having fun. It was a child's version of romantic and glitzy....I imagined gowns and Frisbee games and good books. I didn't know what juciy things were out there but I expected there were a lot, and I was excited to grow up and get out there.
Not everyone has a childhood like this - many people I know grew up worrying about monsters and fire and whatnot. I was lucky - I'm not saying it was all unicorns and rainbows; there was some dark stuff in the family closets - but overall, I grew up with the default idea that I would like the world and the world would like me.
I still have that idea. It's been battered about and worn down at times - the soulless minons of orthodoxy are everywhere - but it's also been bolstered and shored up at times. My cab ride with Owen was a time of healing, a time of restoring faith. It was fitting perfectly not only with my imagined dream of a beautiful world, it was also unfolding before me, fresh and new and unexpected at every turn. I knew good things would be coming, I just did not know what, and here was a what. Owen was the answer the to the question I'm always asking - of what is there to see? What will my (adult) life hold? Who can I encounter in this endless game of hide and seek? What will We think of next? After all is, the work of life, isn't it?
And if not, I saved like eight bucks!
I grew up with the idea that grown-ups were all wise, knowledgeable, and just; that all their disagreements would be on the highest intellectual plane; and that the fundamental goal of all people was the betterment of our entire species.
ReplyDeleteWhat a rude awakening *that* turned out to be. Yet miraculously I still ended up, like you, being open to the unannounced, unlooked for shared cab ride with the various Creative Directors of the world.
And I'm sure glad you stepped into one of those cabs with me, once upon a time.