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.