“Here He Comes!!!”

Those of us who love to walk, especially those who walk long distances, are a fairly predictable bunch. The time of day – and days – we walk are predictable. The routes we take are predictable. And, once we hit our stride, even our pace is predictable. We’re people who love structure. We also tend to be fairly introverted and introspective. We enjoy the peace and quiet that walks afford and seek out paths and surroundings that help guarantee we will experience both. We are comfortable in our own skin and with our own thoughts and, consequently, have no qualms about being in our own company for hours at a time. Some of us use the time to write, others to unwind, and still others to listen to a favorite play list or podcast. Some simply breathe in the sights, sounds, and rhythms of nature. I suppose many would find the predictability of it all unappealing, if not downright unbearable, but not us. We find it intoxicating.

That said, walking is not purely a solitary pursuit. There’s a sense of community that develops over time among those who share our predictable paths. It’s a comradery borne, I suspect, of an intuitive understanding of all we have in common. There’s also a looking forward, at least for me – to seeing the same familiar faces, exchanging an early morning or evening pleasantry, and sharing a smile or word of encouragement. If you’re fortunate to walk where I do, from time to time, you also get to see plenty of 4-legged friends – some of whom already know you and some who don’t – yet. I always make it a point to share my very cheerful “good morning’s” with them as well. And, if their owner will allow it, I stop and offer an outstretched hand and a few minutes of attention. I want them to know that they, like their leash-holder, are seen and that I’m a friend. Most are understandably reticent at first, but, in time, they usually come around.

And, so it was a few weeks back, as I rounded a corner on a beautiful Saturday morning, and saw an elderly gentleman, who I’d never seen before, and two young puppies coming down the path – all noticeably indifferent to the stranger headed in their direction. As is my custom, I paused to say “hello” and slowly bent down to introduce myself to what I hoped would eventually be 2 new, furrily-adorable friends. After a few gentle pats on the head, I was on my way. I couldn’t help but wonder if their owner was as predictable as the rest of us and, if so, whether the 4 of us would meet again. Turns out, he is and we did – at least twice in the week that followed and a few more in the week after that. Each time, I stopped, stooped, stayed a little longer, and smiled a little more broadly. Their owner didn’t seem to mind, nor, I gathered from their fervently-wagging tails, did they. We were becoming friends.

I had to travel for business the following week. But, last Saturday I was at it again, as predictable as the sunrise – same time, same path, same pace, same familiar corner. That’s when I saw them, my new “friends” … still maybe 150 yards away … and they saw me! I wish I could find words to adequately describe their reaction – their playful, exuberant, “let-me-off-this-leash-immediately” circle jumps, their joyful squeals, their wagging-a-mile-a-minute tails – or the breadth and depth of the smile that exploded across my work-weary face and heart because of it. “How is this possible?” I thought to myself, as I picked up my pace and hurried to greet them. I’d only been gone a few days and they’d only known me a few weeks and yet, to “hear them” tell it, it was as if two lifelong friends were seeing each other again for the first time in decades. That’s how much they’d already come to value just 5 minutes of time with me.

In retrospect, I probably lingered a little longer than I should’ve, basking in the tongue baths I was being treated to. I’m pretty sure their owner hadn’t planned on our reunion being the event it turned out to be. Then again, neither did I. I also hadn’t planned on the mist that filled my eyes as I stood and walked away, overwhelmed, I later decided, by the realization of what a profound difference being missed, greeted, and desired like THAT can make and how starkly the gift I’d just been given contrasts with the too-frequently indifferent way we “humans” greet and treat each other – even those we profess to care for and value most – every day. I’m not at all sure why it took 6 decades and 2 adorable puppies for me to experience what a real “I-can’t-believe-you’re-in-my-life” greeting looks and feels like for the first time, but I’m sure glad I finally did. I just hope it’s not the last!

https://tinyurl.com/6wd88sf8

We Missed The Memo

If you’ve been on the planet for any length of time, chances are, at some point, you “missed the memo.” Maybe it was the one that told you the venue or start time for a business or social event had changed, that classes, a doctor’s appointment, a sporting event, or a concert had been cancelled due to inclement weather, that a road needed to get from Point A to Point B was closed or impassable, or that the dress code for a party had been “downgraded” from formal to business casual or less. Fortunately, most of the time, “the memo” isn’t that important in the grand scheme of things and, consequently, neither is the missing of it. In fact, more often than not, once the embarrassment wears off, things like showing up in formal wear to what event organizers decided to turn into a pool party can provide great fodder for story-telling at family gatherings and social functions for years to come.

But, it occurred to me yesterday, during a chat with nearly 100 extraordinary hearts battling with or in recovery from all forms of eating disorders, trauma, addiction, anxiety, depression, etc. that there’s one memo all of us may have missed that is critically important to our ability to live authentically, to love and be loved whole-heartedly, to be at peace with ourselves and others, and to enjoy the fullness of life to which we are called. Truth is: I’m not sure it was ever written, let alone sent – at least I never received it, nor did any of the folks I was talking to yesterday. All of us agreed we wish that it had been and that we’d gotten it a long time ago. So, I decided to take a cut at it:

MEMORANDUM

To: All Adults
From: Your Inner Children
Date: October 21, 2023
Subject: “We’re Still Here, Right Where You Left Us”

Maybe you don’t remember what you were like – how you lived and loved – when you came into the world, but we do.

Everything was new. You had an unbridled curiosity and an insatiable sense of adventure. You saw the beautiful and stared at it in awe and wonder. You were honest, transparent, and authentic. You felt it all and expressed those feelings without fear of judgment or rejection. You overlooked others flaws and missteps – and your own – without a second thought. You were indifferent to how you and others looked and you were inclusive. You refused to carry around the baggage of past insults or hurts for more than 5 minutes, forgave reflexively, and eagerly doled out genuine hugs like they were Halloween candy. You were spontaneous and playful, never questioned whether you were enough of anything, and refused to define yourself by comparison to others. You always gave people a second chance, were as quick with “I’m sorry’s” as you were with invitations to “come out and play,” and, when you fell down, you (understandably) cried for a minute (or 2), but always got back up, and rejoined the game. You never looked back.

We probably should have warned you that, as you moved into adulthood, the world would intervene and cause you to question whether the unblemished, acoustic version of “us” that came into this world was strong enough, valuable enough, aesthetically pleasing enough, tough enough, capable enough, courageous enough, or well-rounded enough to get the job you wanted, find the partner you wanted, have the lifestyle you wanted, earn the degree you wanted, and have the friends you wanted. We probably should have told you that the world would do its level best to make you believe that there wasn’t a place for your quirkiness, your sensitivity, your vulnerability, or your desire to move more slowly, that there are missing or misfitting “pieces” of you, that you need a little more of this or a little less of that to be enough, to fit in – and that, if you weren’t careful, you would fall prey to those messages and box us up like an unfinished gourmet meal, stick us in the deep freeze, and, eventually, forget we’re even there.

As you’ve likely discovered by now, however, the world was wrong. You don’t have to distance yourself from the pre-worldly-adorned, uniquely beautiful person you were when you came into the world—the person you were always meant to be—let alone continue to keep “us” under lock and key, in order to live and love as an adult. You can be an adult and still be authentic. You also don’t need to trade the joy “we” experienced when you were unapologetically, albeit innocently, living in your truth for the feelings of discouragement, disappointment, sadness, loneliness, and frustration that inevitably accompany living outside of it. You don’t need to live small, find a way to take up less space, or hide in the shadows. In fact, in case you haven’t noticed, the same world that was so intent on stifling, if not destroying the traits that defined you as a child (kind, empathetic, observant, compassionate, curious, fearless, forgiving, accepting, inclusive, playful, etc.) is, paradoxically, in desperate need of them today.  

Here’s the good news: We haven’t gone anywhere. We’re right where you left us – maybe suffering from a little freezer burn, but eager to welcome you home, and pick up where we left off!