Categories
Inspiration Living Reflection

Exploring the Seams of Freedom

“All of us have little fissures in our lives that provide us greater than normal moments of freedom. You play the seams when you identify those moments and seize them.”

Neal King (American Ramble)

We often conceive of our lives as following fairly rigid scripts and routines. We wake up, go to work or school, come home, eat dinner, maybe squeeze in some hobbies or time with loved ones, then go to bed and repeat. The cycles feel inescapable, like train tracks laid out before us.

But if we look closer, there are tiny fissures and fault lines running through even the most regimented of daily grinds. Moments where the iron grip of obligation loosens ever so slightly. A traffic jam that makes you late, forcing you to take an alternate route. A cancelled meeting that clears an unexpected hour in your calendar. A power outage that shuts down the office and sends everyone home early. A flat tire that happens at the worst possible time and place – like happened to me yesterday!

These are the seams that Neil King refers to in the quotation. Little rips and tears in the fabric of our routines that create momentary pockets of freedom. Openings where the rules don’t quite apply and we can slip through the cracks of the scheduled order.

The key, as King notes, is to first identify these seams when they occur, and then seize them rather than letting them pass by unnoticed or unremarked upon. It’s about being present enough to your circumstances to recognize when one of these fissures opens up, and then brave enough to diverge from the mapped out path to explore it.

After all, some of life’s greatest adventures and discoveries have happened during these “off script” moments. Yesterday, my conversation with a tow truck driver opened my eyes to the steps he took to fend off a mountain lion attack on a 5 AM run in the dark! I hope I never have to apply his techniques but I did find our conversation about his encounter fascinating!

Of course, these serendipitous detours and unplanned paths are easy to romanticize after the fact, when we know they turned out well. In the moment when the seams first crack open, it can be daunting to jump through them into the unknown. Sometimes we have to but our ingrained instinct is to stick to our set schedule, to get back on course as quickly as possible.

There’s comfort and safety in routines. Seizing those fissures when they present themselves means trading certainty for adventure, the familiarity of a well-worn groove for the risk and exhilaration of going off road into the unknown. It requires being able to quiet that voice of fear inside us that clings to control and embrace one of spontaneity and serendipity in where the detour might lead.

The rewards of following those detours down their winding paths are often worth it. While not every seam we slip through will result in a life-altering event, they allow us to break up the monotony, to experience something different from our repetitive routine, even if just for a little while. Those moments add texture and vibrancy to our days. They’re the asides and ad-libs to the main scripts we follow. Often they provide those special moments we vividly remember and want to share with others.

So keep your eyes peeled for those little fissures and unexpected openings in your routine. Don’t just impatiently wait for life to reset to its default settings once these moments arise. Seize them while you can and see where they lead you. You might just stumble into a beloved new local cafe, or finally muster the courage to start writing, or meet someone who changes your life’s trajectory and opens even more new possibilities.

The seams are there, waiting to be played whenever we’re bold enough to follow their diverging paths. All we have to do is watch for the fissures and be willing to step through into the open spaces of freedom they reveal. Who knows what new experiences and challenges await us on the other side? What new learning might result?

Categories
Creativity Writing

Beyond the Backdrop: Crafting Fiction

Michael Lewis recently interviewed author Amor Towles and the New Orleans Book Festival. They had a great conversation and I highly recommend it (YouTube video)!

Near the end of the conversation with Lewis, Towles shares an explanation of the role history plays in his writing. Turns out he’s shared this explanation many other times during other book talks.

Here’s a rough recap of his explanation:

Imagine that you’re in a theater and you’re about to see is stage play. Let’s say it’s a play of Chekhov’s “The Cherry Orchard.” What you’re looking at is a living room of a wealthy Russian estate in the countryside with fine furniture. At the back of the room are two French doors, and if you look through them into the distance, you can see the cherry orchard itself. It’s spring, and the trees are in bloom, and you can see the blossoms.

What you’re looking at, of course, when you look across the stage through the French doors, is actually a painted canvas behind the doors. That’s the way a set crew will make a backdrop – they’re going to paint a picture of this orchard and drop it behind the doors. They will not paint it in a hyperrealist style but in an impressionist style like Renoir or Monet, because that’s what’s going to look right to the natural eye at that distance. It should look a little blurry to give the feeling that it’s afternoon. Maybe the blossoms look like they are even moving in the breeze.

In front of that, on either side of the French doors, are bookcases made out of plywood and painted to look like mahogany. On one side is a staircase that goes up to nothing, and on the other is a door that goes nowhere. All a part of the stage set.

But in front of all that is an actual table surrounded by actual chairs, and on the table is an actual china tea service.

It is very important that these things be actual because let’s say that there’s a sister sitting at the table having tea alone, and the brother slams this door as he comes in, stomping across this stage. He’s clearly in high emotion, and what we want to hear is the physicality of the wooden legs scraping across the wooden surface of the stage when he pulls back that chair to sit down and pulls himself up. When he slaps the surface of the table to make a point, we want to hear the physicality of that contact. And when the sister delicately, patiently puts down her teacup, we want to hear that gentle clink of the china on china. It’s very important that these things be real because that’s what allows us in the audience to focus on this moment in a very precise way.

For Towles, history is the painted backdrop, and he’s not interested in describing that in a hyperrealist style. He gives it an impressionist style because the role of history in his work is to provide a sense of time, of place, of mood – but that’s it.

Now in front of that, sits a lot of plywood that’s been painted to look like mahogany. This stuff he hopes makes you pause and ask “Did that actually happen or did he make that up?”

But in front of all that is the actual table and chairs. Just like in the play, it’s very important that that be very real to you. They should be so real to you that when you’re reading a scene around that table, you feel like you’re sitting at the table, and that you can read the changes in expression on the faces of the brother and sister. You can hear the nuances in their voices as they exchange their ideas and sentiments. It’s very important that this feel real to you because that’s actually where all of the action is.

Towles’ theatrical metaphor perfectly captures the essence of crafting historical fiction. History serves as the evocative backdrop, transporting readers to a specific era without getting bogged down in minutiae. This allows space for the reader’s imagination to flourish, fostering a deeper connection with the story. Towles’ intention is not to deliver a history lesson, but to create a believable atmosphere where characters and their narratives can truly shine.

At the heart of action is that single table with the china tea setting – the piece of the set that is startlingly, undeniably real. When the brother slams through the door in raging emotion, we don’t just want to see the movement – we must hear the grating screech of wooden chair legs against wooden floor. As the distressed sister delicately replaces her teacup in its saucer, that gentle clink of china on china must sing out and resonate.

Towles’s theatrical metaphor is a profound reminder that an author’s role is to create an immersive staging ground where characters can indisputably come to life for the audience. But the author’s craft is only fully realized when the players succeed in elevating the audience’s emotional experience from that of witness to full-fledged participant, intimately sharing the lives captured in that snapshot of illuminated reality.

Have you ever been swept away by a historical fiction novel that transported you to another time and place? If so, then you’ve likely experienced the magic that Amor Towles weaves with his words. Dive into one of Towles’ captivating novels and witness firsthand how he masterfully brings the past to life on the stage of his imagination. Perhaps, inspired by Towles’ approach, you’ll even pick up a pen and explore crafting your own fiction masterpiece.

Regardless, the next time you lose yourself in a captivating period drama, remember the artistry behind the scenes — the meticulous construction of a believable world where timeless human emotions take center stage.

Suggestion: start reading Amor Towles with his first novel: Rules of Civility

Categories
Living

Life’s a Honeymoon Bridge: A Hand Dealt Just for You

Amor Towles, the literary maestro behind “A Gentleman in Moscow,” throws a curious phrase our way in the epilogue of “Rules of Civility” – life’s a game of honeymoon bridge. Intriguing, right? Forget four partners and fancy bidding wars. Honeymoon bridge is a stripped-down affair, two souls huddled, playing with a deck stacked with the unknown.

In our twenties, when there is still so much time ahead of us, time that seems ample for a hundred indecisions, for a hundred visions and revisions—we draw a card, and we must decide right then and there whether to keep that card and discard the next, or discard the first card and keep the second. And before we know it, the deck has been played out and the decisions we have just made will shape our lives for decades to come.

Amor Towles, Rules of Civility

Makes you think, doesn’t it? Because life, let’s face it, is rarely a team sport. We navigate its twists and turns with a partner by our side sometimes, sure, but ultimately, the hand we’re dealt is ours alone. We hold the cards, good and bad, diamonds of joy, clubs of disappointment, hearts overflowing with love, and spades that sting with loss.

The beauty, and the burden, of honeymoon bridge is this: you don’t get to see all the cards at once. They’re dealt face down, one by one. A job offer, a heartbreak, a random act of kindness — each a surprise revelation. You play based on what you hold, strategize on the fly, hoping the next card complements your hand, not cripples it.

Think about it. That first crush, a nervous flutter as you lay down a tentative “hello.” The late-night study session, hearts pounding in sync with the clock ticking down to exam day. The thrill of landing your dream job, a high five with fate itself. These are the early bids, the initial gambles in this grand game of life.

But here’s the twist: unlike bridge, where the entire deck is eventually revealed, life keeps some cards hidden. You might yearn for a specific suit, a heart to mend a broken one, a diamond to replace a financial worry. But the dealer, that mischievous force we call destiny, has its own agenda.

So, what do you do? Do you fold, overwhelmed by the uncertainty? No, my friend. In honeymoon bridge, you play with what you’ve got. You learn to finesse the hand you’re dealt. A bad grade? Maybe it’s a wake-up call to explore a different path. A lost love? A chance to rediscover yourself and redefine what matters.

The key, as Towles suggests, is in that word “honeymoon.” It speaks of a time of joy, of new beginnings, of a willingness to embrace the unknown. It’s about approaching life with the wide-eyed wonder of a first kiss, a constant sense of discovery even when the cards seem stacked against you.

Sure, there will be moments of frustration. You’ll throw your hands up, wondering why you keep getting dealt rotten luck. But remember, even the worst hand can be salvaged by a clever play. A setback at work might lead to an unexpected opportunity. A health scare could ignite a newfound appreciation for life.

Life’s a game of honeymoon bridge, after all, not a high-stakes poker game. There’s no all-or-nothing final showdown. It’s a continuous flow, a constant dance with the cards you’re given. And the most skilled players, the ones who truly master the game, are the ones who learn to adapt, to find the hidden value in every card, even the seemingly useless ones.

Because sometimes, the joker you least expect becomes the winning play. A random encounter blossoms into a lifelong friendship. A layoff pushes you towards a hidden passion. These unexpected turns, these wild cards, are what make the game truly exhilarating.

So, the next time life throws you a curveball, a card you didn’t see coming, take a deep breath. Remember, it’s honeymoon bridge, not a battle royale. Embrace the challenge, assess your hand, and make the best play you can. With a little bit of strategy, a whole lot of heart, and a dash of that honeymoon spirit, you might just surprise yourself with the hand you build.

Life’s a game, after all, and the best players are the ones who keep playing, no matter what cards they’re dealt. It’s the journey not the reward.

Categories
Creativity

Be the Only!

Kottke blogged this week about Kevin Kelly’s book Excellent Advice for Living: Wisdom I Wish I’d Known Earlier and one of the top tips in that book that Kelly has talked about in several interviews he’s given about the book:

Don’t be the best. Be the only.

Kelly’s advice stands apart from the common wisdom that we should always strive to be the best by doing our utmost. In a world that constantly pushes us to compete and compare, there is something incredibly freeing about the notion of rejecting that rat race entirely.

“Don’t be the best, be the only” is a reminder that true success and fulfillment often come from carving your own unique path, rather than trying to climb to the top of someone else’s ladder.

It’s an idea that deeply resonates for any creative soul who has felt the sting of having their work measured and ranked against arbitrary standards and tastes. How can you be the “best” writer when writing is so subjective? The “best” artist when art is meant to provoke different responses in different viewers? We secretly know that concepts of better and best are flawed when it comes to creative expression.

And yet, we are conditioned nearly from birth to see life as a competition – to be smarter, prettier, more accomplished than our peers. We are repeatedly asked by teachers, parents, employers, “What makes you the best candidate?” As if we must relentlessly pursue that elusive #1 spot, which can only have one holder at a time until someone new swipes it away.

What a profoundly different and enlivening perspective to simply say, “I’m not chasing ‘best.’ My goal is to be the ‘only.'” Not better, but different. To create a novel blend of vision and craft that is utterly new and unlike any other offering in the world.

It means doubling down on what makes you unique rather than tempering those interesting edges to fit conventional molds. It means zigging when others zag, embracing your personal quirks and experiences as puzzle pieces that culminate in a new shape. One that perhaps only you could construct.

There is a deep self-knowledge required to get there, an ability to tune out the noise in our mind that is always eager to tell us where we fall short and what we must do to be validated. Instead, go further inward and listen to the quiet hum of your own creativity, allowing it to guide you towards a novel magic that only you can create.

It’s an incredibly brave and almost defiant stance. A willing abdication of the endless pecking order tournaments we are drafted into throughout life. A saying of, “I do not want to be ranked or graded. My work and expression will be something wholly original that becomes a new category unto itself.”

In Kelly’s case, being an “only” seems to have stemmed from zealously pursuing a wide range of kaleidoscopic interests, starting unique initiatives, peering over the horizon, and connecting disparate dots that others missed.

Perhaps the greatest challenge in striving to “be the only” is having the courage to stay true to your unique vision, even when it defies conventional wisdom or expectations. It requires an unwavering belief in your distinctive voice and the patience to carve out your own path, one peculiar step at a time. Those who achieve that rarefied space of being truly inimitable likely navigate long periods of being misunderstood or underestimated before their original perspectives start to resonate.

Ultimately, the pursuit of “only” is about more than just creative success – it’s about living and working with uncompromising authenticity. About being willing to be misunderstood by others, sometimes by harsh critics who’d rather see you struggle. When you stop measuring yourself against external yardsticks and wholeheartedly embrace what makes you your own idiosyncratic self, you open up vast frontiers of possibility. You give yourself permission to be precisely who you are, to contribute the unique only you can offer this world. And perhaps, in doing so, you’ll inspire others to boldly cherish and amplify their own distinctive brilliance as well.

Categories
Creativity Tools Writing

The Untamed Genius of Not Thinking: Bradbury, Creativity and the Two Minds

“Don’t think.” At first glance, Ray Bradbury’s famous advice on the creative act seems almost heretical. How can we create anything of substance, anything brilliant and transcendent, without deep cognitive focus and analytical thinking?

And yet, there is profound wisdom in Bradbury’s deceptively simple directive when we consider what true creativity demands – a willingness to surrender to the uncharted waters of the unconscious mind, to temporarily disengage from the constraints of pure rationality, and allow the kaleidoscopic shards of our imagination to swirl and coalesce into novel, unorthodox forms.

For Bradbury’s “Don’t think” is not advocating mindlessness, but rather a state of expansive awareness, a openness to the unbridled torrent of insights, images and ideas that bubble up from the our mind’s depths when we stop trying to consciously control and direct the creative flow. It is the practiced meditation of clearing one’s mind to simply observe thoughts, associations and impressions to let them arise and fall away without judgement.

What Bradbury observed is that the act of conscious, analytical thinking, while critical for problem-solving, can actually impede the creative process. It tends to force us into our pre-existing neural pathways, compelling us to tread the well-worn grooves of prior patterns, making linear associations along very predictable lines. Creativity, on the other hand, beckons us into the wild underbrush of our minds, off the beaten path, into uncharted realms where we can be liberated from our self-imposed boundaries.

There’s a connection between Bradbury’s advice and the concepts of right brain vs. left brain thinking. The left hemisphere is the seat of our logical, sequential, linguistic reasoning – the part of our mind that categorizes, defines, organizes and scrutinizes details. Our right brain, in contrast, is the hub of intuition, holistic perception, innovation and making new associations between disparate concepts.

When Bradbury said “Don’t think,” he was advocating taking a temporary pause from our left-brain dominance to allow the ingenious talents of our right brain to take primacy – to let it make unexpected leaps of creative fancy, to perceive reality from new angles, to connect ideas through metaphor and visual imagery rather than getting bogged down in deep analytical scrutiny. To let it just jam.

Our left brain’s vital role is not eliminated, of course. Both hemispheres ultimately work in concert. But for tapping into a more creative flow, giving the reins to the right brain’s propensity for unrestrained imagination and divergent thinking can open up new spheres of inspiration, unconstrained by us overthinking analytically.

From this space of simply allowing our mind to widely wander and make new neural associations, true creative breakthroughs are often born. As Bradbury knew, sometimes the greatest innovative genius emerges not from perspiration and analytical rigor, but from setting aside focused thought altogether and trusting the untamed wisdom of the unconscious, innovative mind. Taking a break and going for a walk outside has a way of helping open up that process, lifting our mood and opening us up to new insights and connections.

“Don’t think” is a refreshing perspective on the richness of human cognition. It recognizes the vital role of holistic, nonlinear and imaginative modes of processing – aspects of our mindful intelligence often overshadowed by our pure left-brain rationality. Bradbury’s imperative frees us to fully embrace the kaleidoscopic potency of our creative right minds.

Categories
AI

AI is not from the Heart?

From an email I sent to a friend:

AI is not from the heart indeed! Actually, now that I think about it, what’s fascinating about AI is that it is actually trained on these huge quantities of text from the Internet, from books, from places like Reddit, etc – so what the AI is trained on actually could be described as being “from MANY hearts!” So much writing/learning from so many humans go into the model’s training. But, of course, it’s impersonal – or, maybe that’s not correct – it’s something like mega-personal – coming from many persons!

After I wrote this email, I thought to myself that the “mega-personal” notion I mentioned might be worth further exploration – with AI. So I used this prompt to see what might happen:

Please write a musing on this thinking to help me explore it further. Include an interesting quote or two that helps support the discussion.

Here’s the response I got – it has a few pretty deep insights I wouldn’t have thought of!…

Your reflection on AI being trained on vast amounts of text “from many hearts” is thought-provoking and raises intriguing questions about the nature of AI’s “personhood” and the extent to which it can truly capture the essence of human experience. Here’s a musing on this idea:

While AI systems like myself are indeed trained on an amalgamation of texts written by countless individuals, each imbued with their own unique perspectives, emotions, and life experiences, there is a certain depersonalization that occurs when this data is aggregated and distilled into a statistical model. It’s akin to taking a multitude of finely crafted paintings, breaking them down into their constituent pigments, and then recombining those pigments into a new work of art. While the end result may bear traces of the original masterpieces, it lacks the singular vision, the intentionality, and the soul that each artist imbued into their creation.

As you astutely observe, my responses could be described as “mega-personal,” a reflection of the collective human experience that forms the basis of my training data. Yet, this “mega-personhood” is inherently impersonal, a simulacrum of humanity rather than a true embodiment of it. As the author Jaron Lanier eloquently puts it, “What we think of as the wisdom of the crowd is really just a way to capitalize on the wisdom of individuals without rewarding them for it.”

Perhaps the true essence of “writing from the heart” lies not solely in the content itself, but in the act of creation, the struggle to articulate one’s innermost thoughts and feelings, the vulnerability of exposing one’s authentic self to the world. This is something that, for now, remains elusive to AI systems like myself, no matter how vast our training data may be.

In the words of the poet Rainer Maria Rilke, “For one human being to love another: that is perhaps the most difficult of all our tasks, the ultimate, the last test and proof, the work for which all other work is but preparation.” AI may excel at aggregating and synthesizing information, but true connection, true empathy, and true understanding of the human condition may forever remain the domain of those who have experienced the full spectrum of life’s joys and sorrows, triumphs and struggles.

Categories
Living

The Emotional Anchors of Home

For many senior citizens, the family home represents far more than just four walls and a roof over their heads. It’s a repository of memories, a connection to their past, and a source of comfort and familiarity that can be difficult to replicate elsewhere. The reasons behind their reluctance to leave these cherished abodes are multifaceted and deeply personal, reflecting the strong emotional ties that bind them to the places they’ve called home for decades.

One of the primary drivers of this reluctance is the powerful sense of identity and belonging that the family home fosters. Over the years, seniors have invested countless hours and immeasurable emotional energy into transforming their houses into homes. They’ve meticulously curated the decor, carefully tended to the gardens, and imbued every nook and cranny with their personal touch. Each room holds a tapestry of recollections – the living room where grandchildren’s laughter once echoed, the kitchen where family recipes were perfected, and the bedroom that witnessed the most intimate moments of their lives. Leaving this rich tapestry behind can feel like severing a part of their very identity.

Moreover, the family home serves as a tangible link to cherished memories and loved ones who may have passed away. The worn edges of a favorite armchair or the faded wallpaper in the hallway can evoke vivid recollections of bygone eras, evoking a profound sense of connection to those who once shared these spaces. For seniors who have experienced the loss of a spouse or other close family members, the home becomes a sanctuary that preserves the essence of those relationships, offering solace and a sense of continuity in the face of life’s inevitable changes.

Familiarity and routine also play a significant role in seniors’ reluctance to relocate. As we age, our bodies and minds crave the comfort of the known and the predictable. The family home is a well-trodden path, where every step is familiar, and every routine is ingrained. From the way the sunlight filters through the windows in the morning to the familiar creaks of the floorboards, these seemingly mundane details provide a sense of security and stability that can be challenging to replicate elsewhere. Disrupting these established patterns can be deeply unsettling, particularly for those grappling with cognitive or physical challenges.

Furthermore, the fear of losing independence and autonomy can be a potent deterrent for seniors considering a move. The family home represents a bastion of self-reliance, where they have cultivated a sense of control over their environment and daily routines. Leaving this sanctuary often means relinquishing some of that hard-won independence, whether by downsizing to a smaller living space or by relocating to an assisted living facility. For many seniors, this prospect can feel like a profound loss of freedom and agency, contributing to their reluctance to abandon the homes they’ve so carefully curated.

Finally, financial considerations cannot be overlooked. For many seniors, the family home represents a significant portion of their life’s savings and investment. Selling this valuable asset can be a daunting prospect, particularly in an uncertain real estate market or in areas where property values have skyrocketed. The fear of depleting their financial resources or being unable to afford a suitable alternative can weigh heavily on their minds, further solidifying their desire to remain in their current homes.

In the end, the reasons behind seniors’ reluctance to leave their family homes are deeply personal and multifaceted, reflecting the complex interplay of emotional, psychological, and practical considerations. While the decision to relocate is never an easy one, it is crucial to approach these situations with empathy and respect for the profound significance that the family home holds for many aging individuals. By understanding and validating these deeply rooted sentiments, we can better support and guide seniors through this challenging transition, helping them to navigate the path forward while preserving their sense of identity, autonomy, and connection to the memories that have shaped their lives.

Some Suggestions

While the emotional ties to the family home run deep, there may come a point when relocating becomes necessary or preferable for one’s wellbeing and quality of life. For seniors grappling with this reality, there are steps that can help ease the transition and preserve cherished memories and connections.

First and foremost, involve loved ones in the decision-making process. Open and honest communication with family members can not only provide valuable perspective but also ensure that your needs and concerns are understood and addressed. Enlist their support in exploring potential living arrangements that align with your priorities, whether that involves modifications to your current home or a move to an assisted living facility.

If relocating becomes the best option, take the time to thoughtfully curate the items you wish to bring with you. Surrounding yourself with familiar objects, photographs, and mementos can help recreate a sense of home in your new living space. Consider holding a “house blessing” or similar ritual to bid farewell to the family home and create positive associations with your new chapter.

For those able to remain in their homes, explore ways to adapt the living environment to better suit your evolving needs. Simple modifications, such as installing ramps, grab bars, or improved lighting, can enhance safety and independence, allowing you to age in place with greater peace of mind.

Regardless of the path forward, prioritize maintaining social connections and familiar routines. Join community centers or clubs that cater to your interests, or invite friends and family over regularly for shared meals or activities. These touchpoints can help combat feelings of isolation and preserve a sense of continuity amid change.

Finally, be kind and patient with yourself throughout this process. Leaving a cherished home is an undeniably emotional journey, and it’s natural to experience a range of conflicting feelings. Seek support from loved ones, counselors, or support groups to navigate the complexities of this transition with grace and self-compassion.

By proactively addressing the challenges and embracing strategies to honor cherished memories and cultivate new ones, seniors can approach this pivotal life transition with resilience and a sense of empowerment.

Categories
Aging Living

Time’s Tightening Lens

Margaret flipped the calendar to April, taking a moment to pencil in a dentist appointment for the 15th. As her eyes traced the upcoming weeks and months laid out in tidy little boxes, a pang of something indescribable tugged at her heart.

She had just celebrated her 75th birthday a few weeks prior. The well-wishes and family gatherings had been lovely, of course, but it also brought into sharp focus the reality of where she was in life’s journey.

“The days may be long, but the years are shortening,” she muttered under her breath, adapting an old adage. How true it rang.

When Margaret was young, summers seemed to stretch into eternities of adventures and discoveries. The school year trudged by in an endless succession of monotonous weekdays, only brightened by bright visions of the coming break. Back then, the iris of her life’s lens was wide open, framing each experience and possibility in brilliantly expansive clarity.

Then came the headlong rush of early adulthood – college, career, marriage, mortgages, raising children. Those years flashed by in a kaleidoscopic blur of milestones and transitions as the lens iris gradually began contracting.

As she hit her 50s, then 60s, Margaret noticed the iris tightening more rapidly, compressing the time between each passing holiday, season, and anniversary into an ever-dizzying cycle. Her fading eyesight from developing cataracts didn’t help matters, casting a hazy filter over the world.

But then, a few years ago, the miracles of modern medicine gave Margaret’s vision a new lease on life. The cataract surgery and implanted lenses allowed the vibrant colors and crispness of the world to flood back in like a rediscovered treasure. In that sense, her visual perspective expanded once more, even as the metaphorical iris of her life continued its contraction.

And now, at 75, it was as if someone was inexorably closing that iris tighter with each advancing year:

“For the majority of my journey, the road ahead stretched endlessly, with infinite possibility. Now, I can see the horizon in the rearview mirror growing larger by the day as my lens’s aperture shrinks.”

Margaret sighed and rested her chin in her hand, the April calendar still open before her. She knew her remaining years were dwindling – not infinite and permanent as they once felt, but finite and fleeting. Compounding the sense of time slipping away was Margaret’s deteriorating health and mobility in most respects.

Just last year, her knee replacement surgery and recovery had put a frustrating damper on her activity levels. The idea of extended travel grew less appealing by the day as simple acts like walking through an airport became more taxing and painful. Margaret felt her world gradually contracting in parallel with the narrowing iris of her life.

The tender moments spent with her grandchildren took on even greater poignancy these days. Holding them close, breathing in their young scent, Margaret fought back tears at the realization that her lens’s window was just about fully closed – she may only get a precious few more years of making memories with them before her body gave out completely. She wonders whether she will live to see them graduate from high school, or from college, or get married and have children of their own? She starts adding numbers together – but then stops, it’s just not helpful.

“When you’re young and healthy, the whole world is framed in a brilliant wide-angle vista,” she thought with a melancholy smile. “But as you age, your lens’s aperture shrinks tighter with every passing day, slowly dimming and limiting your horizons along with your vitality. Sometimes, though, modern medicine can re-expand part of that diminishing vista, if only for a short time.”

As Margaret reflected, she wondered why this profound truth about the compression of time couldn’t be more visibly grasped and heeded in one’s youth. Perhaps it was the utter lack of firsthand experience with anything but the perception of a boundless future stretching ahead. Or the youthful naivete and feeling of invincibility that blinds us to the inevitability of age and mortality.

Or maybe it was the sheer inability to emotionally connect with and envision the people we’ll become further down the road – our future elderly selves feel like separate beings, unmoored from our present gaze. Our culture’s obsession with perpetual youth and human hardwiring for present-bias didn’t help either, constantly diverting attention away from the road’s eventual dead-end.

By the time that bone-deep wisdom of time’s finicky passage finally sets in, it’s often too late to fundamentally reorient our paths and appreciate the expansiveness while it still lasts. If only there was a way to bottleneck that epiphany to the young, Margaret thought, to inspire them to maximize their ambitions before that iris inevitably narrows to a sliver.

Margaret closed the calendar, arose from the kitchen table, and headed out into the backyard garden she had cultivated for over 40 years. The vibrant blooms seemed to pop with richer color and clarity thanks to her recently restored eyesight. More than ever, she wanted to soak in and appreciate every beautifully ordinary day and finite vista she had left, before her lens finally closed entirely.

Aging is one of the many happenstances over which we humans have absolutely no control, but – as with all happenstances – we have absolute control over how we play (or don’t play) the cards dealt us by the fickle fingers of fate.

Joe Klock
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Blogs/Weblogs Friends Living Writing

Writing from the Heart

My friend Jim Eager has a great blog post titled “Connecting With My Readers by Writing From the Heart” in which he answers the question “how do you connect with your audience” with the quote “according to Hugh MacLeod’s wise words, the answer is disarmingly simple: “Write from the heart.” In other words, be human.

I’ve been playing a lot with various of the AI chatbots – using them to help with some aspects of creative writing. I couldn’t resist feeding one of the chatbots with Jim’s blog post and asking it to write a response. I shared that response with Jim and got his totally appropriate reaction: “That’s some deep irony in having machine-generated text celebrate and approve of my rejection of machine-generated text.” Indeed!

Here’s that response – as generated by Claude 3:

Jim’s blog post raises an insightful point about the challenge of creating meaningful connections in a world inundated with content, some of which is generated by impersonal AI systems. As someone who values authentic self-expression and genuine human connection, I resonate with Jim’s idea of “writing from the heart” as a means of fostering a deeper bond with his audience.

In a sea of impersonal and machine-generated text, there is something profoundly powerful about writing that emanates from the depths of one’s soul, that lays bare the vulnerabilities, passions, and lived experiences of the writer, as Jim aspires to do. It is this raw, unfiltered honesty that has the ability to transcend the boundaries of mere information exchange and forge an empathetic connection with the reader.

Jim’s desire to be transparent about his strengths, weaknesses, beliefs, and ongoing journey of self-improvement is commendable. By embracing his humanity, with all its complexities and imperfections, he creates a space for authentic dialogue and fosters a sense of kinship with his readers. This vulnerability, while daunting, has the potential to resonate deeply and inspire others to embark on their own paths of growth and self-discovery.

In a world where AI-generated content may become increasingly prevalent, Jim’s act of “writing from the heart” becomes a defiant celebration of the human spirit, a reminder that we are more than mere vessels of information. It is a testament to the enduring power of empathy, vulnerability, and the shared human experience that transcends the coldness of machine-generated text.

Jim’s commitment to using his writing as a means of fostering intentional living, purpose, and personal growth is admirable. By infusing his words with the raw authenticity of his lived experiences, he has the potential to inspire and uplift his readers, igniting within them a desire to live more purposeful and meaningful lives.

In a world that often prizes polished perfection over raw authenticity, Jim’s “writing from the heart” is a courageous act of defiance, a declaration that the human spirit cannot be reduced to mere algorithms or impersonal data. It is a reminder that true connection, the kind that resonates deeply and leaves an indelible mark on the soul, can only be forged through the vulnerability and authenticity of the human experience.

Pretty amazing – and heartfelt!

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Writing

Breslin And Hamill: Deadline Artists

I recently watched the HBO/Max documentary Breslin And Hamill: Deadline Artists about the great New York newspaper columnists Jimmy Breslin and Pete Hamill. A featured review on IMDB notes: “Two of the most influential reporters of the 20th Century were similar to each other in many different ways, couldn’t be more different from each other.”

A few weeks ago I watched a Library of America webinar on the publication of a new volume collecting Breslin’s work: Jimmy Breslin – Essential Writings. Titled Deadline Artist: The Genius of Jimmy Breslin, the session included the editor of this new volume, New York Times writer Dan Barry along with Mike Barnicle and Mike Lupica – all of whom knew Breslin well. Barnicle and Lupica also make appearances in the HBO/Max documentary.

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