It's a Lot of Little Things

A good friend of mine died on Sunday. He was white water rafting with his two boys, fell out of the raft, swam back to the boat, and had a massive heart attack. He was 53. When I received the call I said I was surprised he lived so long.

I met Walter in Mexico. We became fast friends. We almost bought a bar in Cancun that week. Instead I taught him the cabinet business and we became partners in a new store I opened in Massachusetts. Walter was really fun to be with. One of the most likable people I'd ever met. The trouble was, he loved to take drugs, drink, and eat.

After a few years of being Walter's friend I had to part ways. I knew that if I didn't I'd end up dead, just as I was sure he would. I changed my life, my friends, my address, just about everything. Walter didn't, and now he's dead. Cutting the lawn today I asked myself why did I change and Walter didn't?

I know the biggest reason for me was that I didn't want to leave my kids without a father. So, was it love? I don't know, I believe Walter loved his kids, too. I know that my belief that God could help me, did help me. I think Walter believed that, too. I found other things to do that were satisfying. I went back to school. I took dance lessons. I learned to fly an airplane. I did so many things I have to wonder if I'm still running away from the life that eventually killed my friend.

Maybe I was running at one time, but it doesn't feel that way anymore. I pretty much feel at home, peaceful with my life now. So I ask myself, how did I get here and Walter didn't? The answer came quietly with the lawnmower chewing away, the birds sitting on my garden fence, the sun tanning my naked head. It was the same soft voice that saved my life about twenty years ago and told me to start taking violin lessons, that I was miserable because I didn't have anything useful to do. I couldn't have heard God's voice any clearer that day if He had come down and did all kinds of miracles. This time He didn't have to be so forceful because I'd learned how to listen to Him.

Here is what I heard: It takes a lot of little things.

I'm alive and Walter is dead because of a lot of little things. My mom bought me Hardy Boy books and I learned to love reading. My ex-wife told me about a book that Oprah was recommending. A janitor in college told me I should go to the prayer meetings at the Catholic Center. I had two really bad bosses so I had to start my own business to keep my sanity. There are a million "events" in our lives that make us who we are and determine who we become.

The lesson in all this for me is that each day I have an opportunity, no, more than an opportunity, a responsibility, to make my life more meaningful. There is not going to be one big thing that turns my world around. It is all the little choices I make every minute of every day. Brick by brick we build the people that we are.

It's funny because I was never one who could cram for an exam at the last minute or stay up all night writing that paper. I always did it a little each day. I always thought it was because I have ADD or something. No, it's living life one minute at a time, taking one little step towards heaven. Don't bother buying that lottery ticket. Plant a seed, now, right now. And grow.

Walter, I know you're reading this...I love ya and miss ya. I'll see you next time around, we'll do it differently.

The Value of Being Curious

I am on the plane returning home from Viet Nam and we hit turbulence. It's bad and it doesn't stop. I hate flying, the thought of being five miles above the earth in a tin bus with wings is unsettling. I sweat even when there is a light chop. I try not to think about dying at times like this.

But this time I tried something I've learned from reading Eckhart Tolle. I started observing myself, saying, "Oh, look, I'm scared. My heart is beating faster. I think I'm going to die." I made myself curious about what I was feeling. And a funny thing happened. While I was observing myself, the fear went away.

Maybe my mind was too busy being curious to allow scary thoughts. But that doesn't seem to be enough of a reason. I think it was objectifying of the situation, the separating of the me from the I. There was the I that was looking at the my fear. At that point I stopped being fear and started looking at it as something outside of myself. And the fear just dissolved.

I tried that yesterday when I had a craving to buy a steak and onion sandwich from D'Angelo's. Instead of resisting the urge, which I usually would do to no avail, I allowed myself to feel the wanting and look at it. I didn't push the idea away, I accepted it and let it be there. I looked at the desire as an object, separate from myself. Not fighting it. The inner emotion of wanting seemed to dissolve. I ended up making a large salad instead.

Wouldn't it be a wonderful thing if we could lose our fears and cravings simply by accepting them, looking at them, making friends with them. I think we can.