Seat 15A and Matters of Consequence

 I love flying. I love the little catch in my stomach during take-offs. It also never fails to put life into perspective. I was reading Le Petit Prince as my plane took off towards Miami this morning. If you’ll recall my last post, I mentioned matters of consequence. As we left the runway, thousands of houses  were quickly shrinking in size. I thought about the people inside those houses. I wondered about their lives. I wondered what they were doing this Sunday morning. Were these now tiny houses busy with grown-up matters of consequence? What are the matters of consequence that fill their lives? That fill my life? Are they matters that are genuinely of consequence or have I bought into society’s definition of what qualifies as important?

I’m in row 15A. Although the man sitting beside me is hogging the armrests, but I don’t think he’s doing it on purpose. It’s a nice window seat. Below me, is the ocean and the North Carolina coastline. Because I am travelling for business, I was informed that I was on the upgrade list. As it turns out, I didn’t get the upgrade, I guess too many people were headed to Miami this morning, so I’m left to fend for myself amongst the commoners. Poor me. In a mere four rows ahead of me, behind the magical blue, see-through curtain, lies the cabin from which I was rejected. I bet this cup of coffee would have tasted better; I bet my packaged gingersnap cookies would have had been more gingery, I bet life is just greener on the other side of that curtain….

Two rows ahead of me, there’s a little girl that has been singing since the beverage service. Not in an obnoxious-get-me-off-this-plane kind of way, but in a cute remember-when-I-was-a-kid kind of way.  It reminds me of another section of Le Petit Prince:

When you tell [grown-ups] that you have made a new friend, they never ask you any questions about essential matters. They never say to you, “What does his voice sound like? What games does he love best? Does he collect butterflies?” Instead, they demand: “How old is he? How many brothers has he? How much does he weigh? How much money does his father make?” Only from these figures do they think they have learned anything about him.

If you were to say to the grown-ups: “I saw a beautiful house made of rosy brik, with geraniums in the windows and doves on the roof,” they would not be able to get any idea of that house at all. You would have to say to them: “I saw a house that cost $20,000.” Then they would exclaim: “Oh, what a pretty house that is!”

Matters of consequence, essential matters. Children singing, tiny houses spotting the shoreline, shadows of clouds resting upon the ocean’s surface, that ocean stretching as far as my eyes can see in all directions, a life I love and reasons to smile, a wife whom I carry in my heart always no matter where I go or what I am doing. Let’s be present today and make room in our lives for the genuine matters of consequence. Namaste.

Where the walking man leadeth...

A few minutes after my wife left for school, she called. Her advice was simple; "do yourself a favor this morning, go for a walk." Although I already felt myself in a semi-productive mode concerning matters of consequence*, or so I liked to think, I went downstairs, put our laundry in the washer, and followed my wife's advice.

I went nowhere specific;  I determined, when I arrived at the first corner, that I would go wherever there was a walking man. So I wandered up and down the streets of our quiet little neighborhood. The wash cycle is twenty-six minutes; I sat a timer on my phone and tucked it away in my jacket pocket. My intention was to be fully and wonderfully present wherever the walking man decided to lead.

I walked first this way, then that way, winding in all directions, humming nothing in particular. The temperature was ideal for a spring morning turn. The breeze was just right, like my wife had said. I noticed squirrels, pigeons, seagulls, and dogs; I smiled at babies, runners, old Jewish men, and tree trimmers. As I continued my meandering, my mind cleared and my body relaxed into the present. A rejuvenation happened with each casual step. 

My wife knows me well. She knows my brain gets stuck in high gear at times and needs a forced slow down. I am grateful to have such a soul in my life that will call me and remind me to come back to the present moment and just be. Sometimes it is in our best interest to stop what we are doing, bring ourselves back, and live intentionally in this very moment. 

*matters of consequence is taken from Le Petit Prince. (do yourself a favor and read it if you haven't) The pilot, who has crashed his plane in the desert, comes across a little prince who is from Asteroid 325.  One day, as the pilot is desperately trying to fix his plane, the little prince keeps asking why roses have thorns. Distracted and frustrated about the plane, the pilot shrugs off the prince's questions by saying he is "very busy with matters of consequence." The little prince chides this "grown up" mindset and questions the pilot's matters of consequence against the real matters of consequence which is, in essence, understanding this world in which we live.

Don't Run for the Bus

I'll admit it. New York is an odd and ironic spot on the map to have chosen to learn to slow down and simplify, but perhaps, it is precisely such a place that amplifies the unacknowledged mindset of empty busyness within so that it exposes the true need for deliberate action. Such an epicenter of motion and movement often churns up a hurried-ness, even when you are in no particular hurry!

After a few months of living here, I had fallen into the habit of running for the bus or sub. Now, this is not Louisville, where the next bus may or may not come by (or even stop) in the next ten or fifty minutes, this is Queens, New York, for goodness sake. I do not need to run for a bus! I can count the times on one hand that I have had to wait more than ten minutes for any sort of public transportation. Even if I work late and come home at some god-forsaken 3am, I only end up waiting twenty minutes for a bus. Most everyone here runs to catch the bus, sub, or air train. I asked myself one day, why am I running? I did not have an answer. I do not know why others are doing so, but I discovered I had fallen into this mindset without even thinking about it.

It is just as easy to fall into the societal trap of buying things we don't need. We have determined to simplify our life. We knew that we would be downsizing in order to move here. We went from a large two bedroom apartment with separate dining room and five closets (one of which was a huge walk-in) to a studio apartment with two small closets, and a sort-of-separate-alcove-kitchen-space. Although we'd only lived in our Louisville apartment for less than two years, we were surprised at how much stuff we'd collected. (Just ask mom and pop how much stuff we had since they so graciously let us keep it at the farm while we made our trek north.) We speak of it often now--we love our simplified life.

Slowing down, simplifying, minimizing, all of these come from an awareness that get more, be busier, strive continually, hurry up doesn't equal quality of life. And more often than not, this mindset seems to be the norm in our society, hindering us from having the time to examine our lives and recognize the faulty cycle into which we've fallen. And if we don't take the time to know who we are or where we going, being busy gets us nowhere; we are simply players in the proverbial rat race.

Below are some steps I have implemented, or are in the process of implementing, in order to reach a simpler, less distracted life. Whether or not you choose to simplify your life, give some thought to who you are, where you are going, and your level of happiness in your current state of mind. 

1. Less is indeed more -- this is the common sense stuff of simplifying. Plainly put, get rid of the stuff you don't need. (v. require because it is essential or very important) Each list will be different, but start with the sh*t you're already tripping over, and then just move on from there!

2. Give yourself space -- Just like the piles of treasures junk sitting in your garage, there are often piles and piles of junk cluttering our minds. Not to go all Buddhist on you, but meditation is the best way to clear up some space in your head and make way for creativity and clarity of thought. 

3. Don't jump off the bridge with your friends -- First, thanks, mom. I've become a much happier person as I've made choices that I've actually wanted to make. This includes giving yourself the freedom to say a kind and well-placed NO. Before you commit to something, even if it should sound like fun, make sure it is something you truly want to spend your time doing.  (Thanks for reminding me, wifey!) Don't do things because you think someone will think something about you if you don't. This is no longer middle school, and you have the right to make decisions that lead you to happiness. Many times we make decisions based upon others' opinions simply because we haven't taken the time to get to know us. As I have allowed myself the freedom to figure myself out, a new world of beauty and contentment has opened up for me. 

4. Stop running for the bus -- literally and figuratively. Thich Nhat Hanh says, "Smile, breathe, and slow down." So, Socrates meets Thich Nhat Hanh: Slow down and know thyself. This, in turn, adds to the collective peace of humanity and I think we can all agree that we need more of that!

5. Re-evaluate relationships -- I've recently given up Facebook. Now, don't get me wrong, I was a bit of a Facebook nerd, but having given it up, I realize that I want a more intentional relationship with people. This, undoubtedly, will mean fewer people in my non-Facebook friends list, but this is healthy for me. It has also made me realize that I want those intentional relationships with people who want an intentional relationship with me. I have uncovered a certain degree of OCD/unrealistic-view-of-loyalty when it comes to keeping in touch with people, and I've seen that it has become a true distraction in my ability to simply be present. 

The desired result is a more peaceful, less cluttered, more intentional life for myself and my wifey. With the slow down comes more time spent doing what we love: being together.

Happy Spring Indeed

A happy spring to you! Yesterday, the official first day of spring, surprised us with around three inches of snow! I'm guessing Winter didn't get the memo. Either that, or he decided to play one last joke on Spring while she wasn't looking. Good one, Ol' Man Winter, good one. Today is a balmy 51 degrees, so the remnants of the joke have taken the form of the slushy mess I'll trudge through on my way to work.

I was thinking about the process of change and spring yesterday. It has not been an incredibly difficult winter for us here this year, but there surely is something inspiring and beautiful about the feeling of renewal and life that is so evident this time of year. The anticipation of budding trees and flowers; the actual warmth you can feel from the sun even through still chilly temperatures, the longer days and sunny skies, all of these things add a sense of freshness to my life. It is a time of growth and inspiration, naturally and mentally.

Spring is a time that brings contemplation in me. I find myself so inspired by life and nature. It is a time wherein I easily find a greater depth of hope. I also think, and this is true with life as well, that the effects of spring are felt so much deeper because of the winter. Just as we all grow accustomed to that with which we are constantly surrounded, the change of seasons emphasizes the beauty of each. 

With life, as with spring, let's embrace the newness, the alive-ness, and the inspiration that awaits us. Yes, a cold snow might hit when we least expect it, but Spring comes in due time.

Rainy Day Magic

Truthfully, I was hoping for a sunny three-day weekend to celebrate the arrival of spring, but as today is the only sunny day, my wish was only one third fulfilled. Saturday was rainy and Sunday was overcast. To some this might have seemed dreary, but our city takes on a unique personality in the rain, and I am always pleasantly greeted with a new and fresh experience.

The streets are still busy, but now seemingly head-less bodies walk along under tiny huts of blue, red, black, green, multi-colored umbrellas only occasionally glancing up to see what puddles await them. For the most part, they pay no mind to the other huts coming from a different direction and as two corners make contact, the umbrellas spin and move on, never missing a beat. Only when a pack of tourists make their way down the avenue does this system fall to pieces. Trying to avoid the other huts along the way, you make out swerving and moving umbrellas and the attempted avoidance of others transforms the avenue into a momentary sea of chaos--the very thing the well-meaning tourists were trying to avoid.

As I sat in my regular spot against the window on Church Street, I watched this phenomenon occur time and again. I found it difficult to go back to my coffee and book. So yes, my sunny weekend in the city will have to wait, but as always, my magical city did not disappoint.

My Microcosm

Yesterday, in the break room at work, I noticed four distinct conversations going on at the same time. One in Arabic, French, Spanish, and English. At certain points, those who spoke more than one of these languages would suddenly jump into one of the other conversations and add their two cents worth, as it were. Contagious laughter would ensue and even those from the other conversations would join in to laugh because of those who were now laughing so hard.

Within this break down of languages, there are further groups of Muslims, Baptists, Catholics, Buddhists, and Non-religious, not to even mention gay or straight, yet we are one of the tightest and most supportive teams with which I've ever had the privilege of working. Last night, as we sprinted to handle issues that had been compounded because of snow and de-icing delays, our team kicked the spirit of cooperation to an honorably high level. Many of my coworkers had been awake for over 30 hours and you could see their faces drained of energy. With encouraging pats on the back when customers threatened our patience, to laughter and smiles when our tasks were nearing completion, we understood one simple concept: we were completely and utterly in this thing together. We faced a lot together last night, and we did it well.

We are all in this thing called life together. Let's start doing this thing called life together better. 

Namaste and peace to you.

An American in Paris

Normally, this is about our life here in New York, but perhaps our life in New York would not be a thing had we not met in French class and studied in France. Towards the end of our short semester we spent fifty-two hours in Paris. Fifty-two hours. So consider this a guest post by....me. Slightly off topic, but on my mind tonight.

As we talked in Montpellier, she said she might not go to Paris with the group. My heart dropped. This was not the plan! The excitement and anticipation I held about the upcoming weekend in Paris with her could not process this news. Lucky for me, she changed her mind, and we soon found ourselves on a train towards Paris speeding past fields of lavender and isolated stone villages. We were going to Paris. I would finally see the cities of my dreams with the one soul that I already knew I wanted to stay beside forever.

We'd been in France almost a month and we'd saved this trip until the end. Our studies were winding down; we left early Thursday morning and arrived in Paris by noon. We hit the ground running as it were. Because of expenses, our train ride home was Saturday afternoon. I had not imagined my debut encounter with Paris to be so brief, but this was it. We had fifty-two hours to get to know one another. 

After dropping our luggage at the hotel, we headed to those streets in which I'd longed to lose myself. Paris had provided a beautiful, but cool day to meander. The bicycle-lined streets, the colorful cafe awnings, the rod-iron, the stone structures that drew my eyes, they were all as I had imagined only brighter and clearer than my dreams.  As we made our way up the Rue Montmartre, I could hardly believe this dream had materialized. Later that day, as a friend of a friend so graciously gave us a tour of the Le Palais de Luxembourg, I could scarcely take it all in--the golden arched ceilings, Napoleon's throne, and the French senate meeting just behind those massive closed doors.

As breathtaking as all of this was, I was most anxious for the main event of our evening, the Eiffel Tower. It is funny to me that one of the most iconic symbols of this majestic city is one to which the French are said to hold no particular endearment. (Although, I think I've met just as many Frenchies who like it as who hate it, honestly.) I, on the other hand, had lived for this exact moment; and just like everything else in France had so easily done, it surpassed my expectations. 

As my now-wife-then-friend and I and talked on the grass under the Tower, I was acutely aware of the fact that this one of the happiest moments of my life. I think I was lucky to realize this in the actual moment; it made me want to freeze this moment and, in a way, I did, for it is still so vividly cherished. And then at ten o'clock, against the darkening sky, the tower lit up, and reflections danced in our eyes as we sat in silence taking in such a sight as I had never imagined. 

A perfect first day in Paris drew to an end with a midnight cruise on La Seine. The lights of Paris shown brightly on all sides as Edith Piaf's La Vie en Rose played in the background. Although I am not usually keen on such touristy events, I must admit I enjoyed every touristy second. This was a dream fulfilled; my heart was happy. The next morning we would be up early without a minute to spare. There were the majestic bridges that must be walked, Shakespeare and Company, Notre Dame, all of these wonders connected by random streets just as mysterious and powerful. There was to be another night spent on the lawn in front of the Eiffel Tower; this time we were more prepared with our own bottle of wine.

When you get the chance to spend time in a place that you love as much as I love France, it changes you forever. To a certain degree, it settles a restlessness within, but at the same time, it leaves a longing ache in its place. Being a bit of a gypsy-soul, I have traveled and experienced many places. I have appreciated all of them, even the ones in which I didn't particularly enjoy, but France left a permanent mark. A mark I shall cherish always.

America is my country and Paris is my hometown.

~ Gertrude Stein ~