Creating Deep Connections Through Active Listening

On a recent road trip from New England to Nova Scotia’s Cape Breton Island, Jas and I were stunned by the vastness of the wild (and seemingly unpopulated) coastline. Although Cape Breton is remote by American-travel standards, it can still be accessed relatively easily by driving or flying, so we were surprised by the absence of people and development. Instead of being lined with resorts and multi-million dollar mansions, these magnificent coastlines are still the domain of RV travelers, wildlife, hikers and cyclists, and people living in the simplest of houses. It was kind of awesome to see a place that hasn’t yet been swallowed up and distilled by wealth and sprawling development. Most grocery stores are tiny markets, not much bigger than the grocery section of a gas station. Many of the restaurants are in repurposed houses or mobile homes. Luxury travelers beware, there aren’t many frills to speak of on the island. But there was something extremely calming and humbling about the simplicity of it all. I live in Vermont, which is also rural, sparsely populated, and surrounded by stunning natural beauty. Vermont, however, seems like a bustling city when juxtaposed against Cape Breton. The Science behind Finding Peace and Reducing Stress Amidst the serene beauty and the absence of human development, we looked out over the horizon — where the Atlantic Ocean meets the sky — and began to wonder, “why is looking at a horizon so damn peaceful?” Thanks to our curious nature (and the powers of Google) we uncovered some interesting insights about the very real benefits of looking at horizons. In our fast-paced world filled with constant stimulation, finding moments of peace and calm can be challenging. However, research shows that simply gazing at the horizon and widening our peripheral vision can have a profound effect on our well-being. Why Our Ancestors Sought the Horizon Our ancestors relied on their peripheral vision to scan the landscape for potential threats. By widening their visual field, they could ensure their safety and remain calm in the face of danger. Taking a cue from our evolutionary past, we can embrace the calming effect of the horizon and the knowledge that no immediate action is required. Vision and Stress Response Rockstar neurobiologist Dr. Andrew Huberman has an unprecedented talent for communicating complex scientific concepts in a way that is accessible and engaging to the public. His insights and practical applications for everything from optimizing sleep and managing stress, to enhancing brain performance and improving focus, resonate with millions of people. Dr. Huberman’s research into our body's response to different visual stimuli has revealed fascinating results. When we focus on something stressful or exciting, our field of vision narrows, triggering the fight-or-flight response. However, by intentionally expanding our visual field and allowing our eyes to relax and take in a wider panorama, we can switch off the stress response and induce a state of calm. The vastness of a horizon induces calm, whereas navigating bumper-to-bumper traffic does the opposite. Embracing a Broader Perspective To truly reduce stress, we must embrace a broader perspective. Instead of fixating on one thing, we can make a conscious effort to broaden our horizons both literally and metaphorically. Whether it’s finding a quiet spot with a wide view or taking the time to appreciate the vastness of the world around us, expanding our visual field allows us to tap into a sense of peace and tranquility. If expanding our visual field reduces stress, it seems logical that we should take a break from our phones, computers, and even reading, to broaden our horizons throughout the day. On an episode of the Tim Ferriss podcast , Dr. Huberman provides a simple way of doing this. Keep your head and eyes relatively stationary and expand your field of view so that you can take in as much of your surrounding environment as possible without actually moving your head or eyes. Basically, you want to relax to the point that you can see yourself in your current environment. Doing so shuts off the stress mechanisms that accompany more focused, narrow vision. Embrace the Horizon as a Metaphor for the Peaceful Spaces We Crave Sometimes I wonder, despite living in the peaceful, beautiful mountains of Vermont, am I suffering from an absence of horizons in my daily life? It’s certainly tranquil here, but my valley is visually as “open” as a side street in Manhattan. Our ancestors instinctively widened their peripheral vision to ensure their safety and maintain a sense of calm. By incorporating this practice and intentionally embracing a broader perspective (literally and figuratively), we can tap into our innate ability to find peace and calm.

Jas and I recently returned from a trip to Vietnam and Japan, and we were struck by how happy and healthy Vietnam’s “older generations” seem to be. Every morning, thousands of older Vietnamese (50s to 80s) are outside, having tea together, doing tai chi, cycling, and walking. At 5 am, parks in Hanoi were as populated with people exercising and socializing as Central Park at noon. Temples were surrounded by large groups of Vietnamese, meditating, praying, stretching, dancing, and laughing. It was a beautiful, communal sight to take in, and in stark contrast to what I’ve observed of the same age group in the U.S. That’s not to say there aren’t countless happy, healthy older Americans. But American culture tends to be more individualistic and private, and it’s well documented that this level of individualism can take a toll on our happiness and health, especially as we age. We also spent a few days in Tokyo, a city that operates with unmatched cleanliness, precision, and efficiency. Trains run on time, streets are litter-free, and everything is incredibly organized and...well... perfect . However, after the warmth and social culture of Vietnam, Tokyo felt a bit sterile and detached. Of course, Japanese culture extends far beyond Tokyo. Jas traveled the country several years ago and observed a “softening” outside the city. Even so, the stark contrast between these cultures, and our own, has me pondering why such differences exist and what we can learn about ourselves by exploring them. Collectivism vs. Individualism After our trip, I did some research into the how’s and why’s of Vietnamese and Japanese culture. It seems that people tend to take care of each other in Vietnam, regardless of whether they know each other or not. This sense of collectivism fosters a strong sense of community, social responsibility, and trust. Communal cultures, such as Vietnam's, tend to stress the concept of "we" rather than "I." In contrast, American culture stresses individualism, and people here focus more on their personal responsibilities and duties. This focus on the individual leads to greater productivity and efficiency, but can also result in a sense of disconnection from the community and a lack of warmth. Japan also seems to lean more toward individualism, but differs from American culture with an even greater focus on efficiency, and a stronger tendency toward tradition and conformity. Why Does Any of this Matter? These differences matter because they reflect the different ways in which we can live our lives. Vietnam illustrates how community and social warmth can exist even in a challenging economic environment, while Japan demonstrates how efficiency and precision can lead to an exceptionally high standard of living. Both countries have unique strengths and weaknesses, and we can learn from both. By studying these cultural differences, we can gain a deeper appreciation for the diverse ways in which humans live and interact with one another. We can find meaning and satisfaction in our lives in so many ways. Whether we prioritize community, efficiency, diversity, or tradition, there is no right or wrong answer. The most important thing is to find a way of life that resonates with us and brings us happiness. Why Are Older Vietnamese So Happy and Healthy? Despite everything I just said, there is no denying that Vietnam seems to be rocking it in the quality-of-life category, especially for a country with serious economic challenges and its fair share of political issues. I will admit, after noticing what appeared to be an exceptionally low rate of homelessness and extreme poverty in Vietnam, I wondered if there was any correlation between these impressive achievements and its communist government. While it is true that Vietnam's government plays an active role in providing social services and housing as part of its socialist ideology, there are several other factors that likely contribute more to the country's success in addressing homelessness. For starters, the cost of living in Vietnam is very low. The country also has an exceptionally tight-knit community ethos where neighbors help each other in times of need, and a strong cultural value placed on hospitality and generosity. It's also worth noting that while Vietnam operates under a one-party communist system, the country has undergone significant economic liberalization in recent years and has increasingly embraced capitalism. Despite what I witnessed with my untrained eyes, the Heritage Foundation's Index of Economic Freedom still ranks Vietnam as a "mostly unfree" economy due to its ongoing struggles with corruption, regulatory obstacles, and government control over certain sectors of the economy. Therefore, it seems that Vietnam's approach to homelessness and social welfare may be less about Communist ideology and more about a pragmatic approach that prioritizes meeting the needs of its citizens while balancing economic growth with social services. Togetherness Government-discussions aside, the people of Vietnam certainly seem to know what they’re doing. Older Americans do not rank well when it comes to social connection, healthy eating, and exercise. In fact, the U.S. Surgeon General just declared loneliness and isolation a public health crisis. According to the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, a lack of social connection increases the risk of premature death by over 60% . There can also be a kind of all-or-nothing attitude to exercise in the U.S. With the overwhelming stream of life hacks and longevity data, it’s easy to set ourselves up for failure when we can’t keep up with the daily 5-mile run, cold plunge, sauna, green smoothie, meditation, and high-protein (yet mostly plant-based) diet routine. But the people in Vietnam (who nearly all were within the ideal B.M.I. range) didn’t seem to be “optimizing” for anything. Many tai chi movements barely look like movements at all, and hundreds of people appeared to just be standing in groups with their eyes closed for long periods of time. But they were off the couch. They were outside. They were up early, moving their bodies, drinking water, breathing fresh air. And they were together .

 The world is facing plenty of serious problems. No one is denying that. Even so, I can’t help but roll my eyes every time I hear someone say "now, more than ever.” Which is to say, all the time. Humanity is plagued with all kinds of complex and devastating issues, from poverty and war, to racism and sexual abuse, to disease and climate change. Yet, if we look at humanity as a whole, no time in human history has been better. (With the exception of climate change, I suppose. On that front, we might be a bit screwed). Test of Human Progress If you ’re not familiar with Obama’s “test” of human progress, here it is — “If you were going to be born at any time in human history, but you had no idea who you would be (white, black, gay, straight, male, female, transgender, disabled, able-bodied, rich, poor) or in which country you would be born… when would you want to be born?” I certainly won’t answer for anyone else, but my assumption is that most people would choose today . It’s easy to feel incredibly divided over the countless issues, statistics, and opinions that assault our senses on a daily (no, hourly) basis these days. The internet and social media provide a never-ending stream of things to fear, oppose, and fight over. Of course, the internet and social media have also played a role in advancing human rights, both in the U.S. and across the globe. As with all technology, the internet is neither good or bad. It’s what we do with it that’s good or bad. We're Doing Pretty Great...Now, More than Ever The reality is, we have less war, less plague, and less poverty than at any other time in human history. Famine is exceedingly rare. Global human rights are advancing rapidly, although some countries are taking longer than others. Rates of maternal death and childhood illness are historically low. Gay marriage is legal in states and countries around the world. We have black leaders, female leaders, gay and transgender leaders. Diversity and inclusion are being taught in schools and promoted in workplaces. Yes, we have a long, long way to go…but our extraordinary progress, as a human race, should not be underestimated. The only exception to our progress is with regard to climate change. I don’t know enough about the climate, or science in general, to speak about it intelligently, so I’ll leave it there. The planet itself may be about to implode, but the humans on it are doing better than ever.

The following is an excerpt from my book, Expand Your Bubble . It's from my interview with Todd Giorgi, a Strongman National Level Competitor who sp eaks openly about overcoming his addiction to crack cocaine and other substances. Todd is an awesome guy who exudes warmth, positivity, and love in every interaction. His story is heartbreakingly beautiful and serves as a cautionary tale for all of us. Addiction isn’t only about drugs and alcohol. With a constant stream of information at our fingertips every second of every day, information addiction is becoming increasingly prevalent. Addictions can take countless forms—drugs, money, sex, gambling, food, information, power, and any other temporarily rewarding activity with negative consequences. But society accepts certain addictions, namely, money, power, and information. As a result, those who suffer from a societally accepted addiction often do so for a lifetime. But not so with drugs and alcohol. The suffering attached to this type of addiction generally only ends in one of two ways, sobriety or death. In my opinion, an addiction to money is no less tragic than an addiction to crack, but where “crackheads” are locked up and shamed, those addicted to money and power are revered and rewarded. Those who manage to overcome an addiction, however, often go on to lead extraordinarily fulfilling lives. Such is the case with my new friend, Todd Giorgi, who overcame an addiction to crack and has been sober for more than seventeen years. Not only has Todd stayed true to himself, his wife Anna, and his daughter Jagger by consciously choosing sobriety every day, he lives his life to help others live their best lives. He is the owner and founder of NY Strong, a gym where he helps people improve their physical, mental, and emotional strength. He’s a Strongman National Level Competitor, and he speaks openly about his struggle with addiction. The world needs more openness and authenticity. In an effort to hide our flaws, we bury them so deep that even we have trouble digging them up and dealing with them. In essence, we hide them from our selves. And addictions are a double whammy—they are flaws we use to hide other flaws from—you guessed it— ourselves . People who, like Todd, are willing to share their struggles to help others overcome theirs, are heroes. But they are also smart. Shame is much heavier when we hold it alone. If you are still holding on to shame, consider lessening that burden by opening up to someone you trust. As you will read in Todd’s interview, there are always people willing to help if you ask. THE INTERVIEW (Todd) Contrary to popular belief, marijuana isn’t the gateway drug. It’s alcohol. I was fourteen when I had my first drink. I was at a high school party trying to be someone I wasn’t. Those feelings of not being good enough, tall enough, smart enough, or big enough enter the psyche at such a young age. That night, I was just trying to be someone people would like. The “out of control crazy kid” act worked—I was getting attention. So, I ran with it. The very next time I drank, I blacked out. Somehow, I made it home, and my father, who was a paramedic in Harlem, came home and revived me. The next day, we spoke about being in control, and I yessed him to death. But, truth be told, I wasn’t in control for a single day during the rest of the nineties. My life consisted of getting high, drinking “40s” and smoking blunts, until I entered college. I chose UMass, mostly because it was nicknamed “the Zoo.” During my freshman year, I met a young man who introduced me to the purest flake—from Bogata, Columbia—I would ever come across. Cocaine was it. I felt like God. It was the greatest feeling on earth. When you’re using cocaine, you quickly recognize its power and decide it’s something you’ll only do every few months. For a while, that’s what I did. Then I came home for winter break and introduced it to a couple of friends. Soon it had become a weekend thing. And then Saturday felt so fucking good, why not add Tuesday and Thursday? Next thing I knew, I was hooked. It got me. My life basically revolved around cocaine—scoring it, snorting it, trying to recover from its effects. That’s pretty much how it goes, until one day, you’re in a car with a friend going to score, and instead of coke he buys crack. If you’re looking for an express train to the bottom, this is your ticket. Crack becomes your lover, your breath, your only friend. It manipulates and humiliates. It’s called the “Devil’s Drug” because it takes your soul if you let it. Crack is, without a doubt, the most addictive substance I have ever encountered. Running out of money won’t stop you. Running out of gas won’t stop you. Running out of work, friends, or family will not stop you. I had come from a good home with plenty of love, got decent grades, attended a well-known university, and had girlfriends galore…how did things get so out of hand? You know how far you’ve fallen when you’re sitting with a group of other crackheads, thinking about how to rob the local bodega, or when you stick a twenty-dollar bill through a hole in the wall of a dark alley and hope that what comes out the other side won’t kill you. You know it when you steal from your family and friends. You know it when you’re certain if another man told you to get down on your knees to get some crack, you would, or when you let a drug dealer in the backseat, and he puts a gun to your head and says, “You better pray you’re not the mother fucking police.” I have no explanation for why I am here today, other than God’s grace. I was physically, emotionally, spiritually, and financially bankrupt when I found myself at a Narcotics Anonymous meeting in a church basement. I was twenty-two years young, thankfully. Because, do you see any old crack addicts running around? Of course not…they’re all dead. I knew I had to get clean, or I was going to die too. Addiction is cunning, baffling, and powerful. And you don’t need a story as hardcore as mine. You could be fooling yourself and everyone else around you, still maintaining a job, family, and friends—hiding your addiction. But through your addiction, you’re also hiding from yourself. What are you hiding from? What part of your life do you not want to look at? There are all kinds of addictions. When it comes down to it, anything can be a drug. My suggestion is to take a serious look at everything you’re involved in and ask yourself, Is my life better for doing this? Am I moving closer to God (or whatever you believe in)? Or is this activity, drug, or behavior moving me further away from my life’s purpose? Today I live happy, joyous, and free. And I have four absolutes: absolutely no crack, cocaine, heroin, or alcohol. Those four things moved me away from the God that lives within me. Today, I have a clear vision of what my purpose is, so I don’t venture back into that world of four. I know exactly where I’d be within a few hours. I strive to act, speak, and do in such a way that those who come in contact with me will say their life is better for it. In this way, I can be of service. I can share the horror stories of my past, helping people—young and old—to avoid going down that same dark path. This is my legacy. I’m sitting in Starbucks as I write this and Lean On Me is streaming. I can’t help but get choked up because the song says it all. I would be dead today if not for the good of humanity. There are people out there who will do absolutely anything to help you if you want to be helped. I was picked up from the gates of Hell and carried until I could walk again. How could I possibly not give that back to humanity??? Why would I not be vulnerable and show the world who I am? I know what it’s like to struggle, to be on the bottom—to be shamed and ashamed . I should be dead, but I’m not. Living alive is a choice. I choose to live today in a way that helps others avoid making the same mistakes I made, and to prove that there are still good people on this earth who care for the greater good. Sober for more than seventeen years, I am living proof that “once an addict, always an addict” is a lie. “Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” ~ Howard Thurman

I am unquestionably a morning person. Like a 4:30 am morning person. The nights bore me and often seem to drag on at an interminable pace. After about 6:30 pm, I frequently find myself counting down the hours until it's an acceptable time to go to bed. Sometimes I head upstairs before I'm tired because I want the sweet bliss of morning to arrive sooner. Isn't it strange how some of us are most creative, happy, and "alive" late at night, while others get the ir spark in the morning ? I think I'm in the minority, being such an early bird ... and I used to hate it. Going to bed before 10 (or 9) in my 20s was inconvenient. But today, I love it. The early morning hours feel like all of life's beauty and joy has been wrapped into a neat little package. Never mind that by 3 pm much of that beauty and joy begins to morph into boredom and monotony. I just remind myself that morning is right around the corner :) But the question of why some of us are early birds and others night owls has been the subject of much debate. Some say it's genetics, though my Ancestry.com DNA results recently told me I am 90% more likely to be a night owl. Others say it's environment. I've always wondered why I am such a morning person. Maybe this is the reason... “Breakfast is my favorite meal of the day,” I tell her. She wants to know if I have eggs and bacon, hash browns and an English muffin. “No, I have one piece of toast.” Do you have it with peanut butter and cinnamon, and fresh fruit on the side?" she asks. “No, just toast with butter.” Apparently, she finds this boring. “Why is that your favorite meal?” “Because everything is good in the morning.” “Ugh,” she recoils at the thought. “The morning is awful. Everything is better at night.” And that’s when I know it. I must do everything important in the morning. I must make all decisions in the morning. My mind is free in the morning. Unfettered in the morning. Hopeful in the morning. I’m a dreamer in the morning. Sometimes I dunk my toast in my black coffee, like my grandma taught me when I was nine. But then it wasn’t black. It was full of cream and sugar. Toast with butter dipped in coffee tastes like comfort and happiness. Tastes like anything is possible. Maybe this is why I like mornings. Then there was nana—always awake at four am. Nine-year-old me walks downstairs in total darkness, sees the light beneath the doorway to her little apartment within the house. That sliver of light is the most beautiful thing in the world. Like the toast dipped in coffee. I open the door. “Ho, sweetie,” she says. The best sound. Maybe this is why I love mornings. Toast in coffee, a sliver of light at 4 am, so insignificant but maybe not. Moments that shape us. Moments that are life itself. Through decades of heartache and joy, love and loss, failure and success, shame and pride, fear and courage, I’ve forgotten so much. But the light and the toast have only grown brighter and more delicious.

Yes terday, I interviewed renowned speaker and author D.J. Eagle Bear Vanas for my upcoming book, What Makes a Good Life? The best part of conducting these interviews is the remarkable insight into my own life I derive from my interviewee’s diverse perspectives. Their answers to questions like, “What one thing do you think is the most important ingredient in a good life,” and, “What role do you think failure plays in a good life,” are like free therapy for my constantly-searching soul. It’s as if their different perspectives — some extraordinary and others beautiful in their simplicity — have amalgamated into the ultimate spiritual guide. I have never believed in one guru, but the collective humanity is like a guru to me. When you ask an eclectic group of souls to be vulnerable, the unintentional teachings are far more powerful than any one human could possibly convey. The Warrior Within D.J. has spoken to more than 7,000 audiences, including Walt Disney, NASA, and at the White House, incorporating Native American traditions and the warrior spirit into his teachings about teamwork and leadership. He is also a member of the Odawa Nation and a decorated former U.S. Air Force Officer. D.J. has written several books, including The Tiny Warrior , which teaches about perseverance, courage, and personal growth, and includes exercises and meditations to help readers apply the lessons to their own lives. Born to teenage parents living in extreme poverty, D.J.'s life definitely didn’t start out easy. Even after building an extraordinary life for himself and his family, challenges continue to be a part of his everyday existence. Because, well, he’s human. We all experience some level of pain and suffering throughout our lives, but there is an unfortunate tendency for some (many) inspirational speakers and writers to gloss over these challenges as a mere hurdle along the race to success. D.J. is different. Talking to him felt like getting guidance from a good friend, not life hacks from a high performance coach. Many high performers use anecdotes about past failures and current weaknesses to show just how human they really are. But it’s often a false humility, in my opinion, and a particularly insidious way of making us feel inadequate. We’ve all heard top performers say things like: I'm an admitted workaholic, but I decided a few years back that family dinners are a non-negotiable. Now we have dinner together every night, no exceptions, and no phones. Family first. And I take a one-week meditation retreat every January. Self care is critical. Although I exercise for 3-4 hours a day, eat my plant-based diet on a time-restricted feeding schedule, journal about gratitude before bed, and meditate from 5 to 6 am, there are days when even I can’t motivate. There was one this one day, a few months ago, I just didn’t have it in me. I barely did half of my normal routine! But I didn’t beat myself up about it. I mean, I’m only human. Despite D.J.’s many achievements, I didn’t sense any false humility. Nor did I notice the tunnel vision associated with success for the sake of success. I felt inspired and motivated, but in no way inferior. "Embrace the Suck" In the face of difficulty, D.J. does his best to embody this motto from his military days, “embrace the suck,” acknowledging that when we walk into — and through — the pain and failure, we become stronger and better able to handle the next challenge waiting around the corner. By giving meaning to the pain, we empower ourselves to grow. D.J. talked about getting divorced shortly after the pandemic, describing it as intensely painful. He didn’t gloss over it as a simple learning experience. I could sense that the pain was very real and still raw, but also that it strengthened him and helped him grow. He learned a lot about himself through the process and is grateful for what the experience taught him, even though he wouldn’t have asked to endure something so difficult. What Makes a Good Life? When it comes to a good life, D.J. says we should define a “good life” for ourselves, not based on the metrics of others. And we should make our definition of success an attainable one. Far too often, we set goals for ourselves that are always just slightly out of reach. When we near our goals, they inevitably shift. “We need to be able to take a bite out of that dangling carrot from time to time.” Otherwise what’s the point? The Dangers of a Life Without Stress D.J. believes that challenges are not only important to a good life, they are critical. He illustrated this concept with a beautiful story about an unintended discovery in Arizona’s Biosphere 2. Years ago, the Biosphere 2 project was developed as a research center where scientists could study our planet’s living systems in a controlled environment. The trees in Biosphere 2 grew fast, faster than the trees outside, but they never reached their full height or produced fruit. One by one, the trees fell over. The scientists were perplexed. Further research revealed that the trees were not rooting as deeply as they did outside, and the outer layers of bark were deficient of something called “stress wood,” which strengthens the trunk and allows for the optimal absorption of sunlight. Why were the trees’ roots shallow and their wood soft? Turns out, the lack of harsh winds in the controlled environment eliminated the stress withstood by outside trees. Without wind, the stress wood didn’t develop and the roots remained shallow. Ultimately, the lack of stress created a soft, weak tree. A tree that seemed perfect, even superior, for a short period of time. But one that could not handle even the minor stresses of life within an almost problem-free bubble. Without stress, the trees succumbed to the smallest of challenges. They failed to thrive. While the above metaphor may sound like just another self-help book or life coach telling you to put a positive reframe around stress, there's more to it than that. The trees in Biosphere 2 illustrate that stress is a biological necessity. We can't survive without it. D.J. adds that "our elders in the Native communities have always taught that nature is our best teacher, the outdoors our best classroom." We must engage with life in order to thrive, and stress is a vital part of that engagement. Thank you to D.J. Vanas for the fun and enlightening conversation. More about stress, failure, spirituality, engagement, and what makes a good life in my full interview with D.J. (and many others) this fall, when What Makes a Good Life? is released. If you're interested in learning more about D.J., you can connect with him at NativeDiscovery.com .

The following is a reprint from an article I originally published on Medium in 2020. Marianne Landre Goldscheider passed away late last year, but her words will live on in her writing and her memories will live on in the many people whose lives she touched, including my own. Currently and quite unexpectedly, I am hosting Marianne Landre Goldscheider, an 88-year-old German woman who fled the Nazi regime as a child and who has been living in New York City for more than 50 years. She’s a writer, an eccentric, a strong, fascinating woman with a brilliant mind that is still intensely-sharp, even as she approaches her 90th year. Our mutual friend Pim connected us; Marianne has been avoiding her NYC-apartment since the start of the pandemic and is trying to continue avoiding it for as long as possible. When Marianne first arrived at my home last week, I saw a frail, elderly woman with a walker. I quietly wondered how she would manage on my very non-handicap accessible property. There was no way my practically-immobile guest would make it up the treacherous wooden staircase with no banister to the bedroom I had prepared for her stay. The only viable solution — setting her up in the living room for the next three weeks. Fortunately, there’s an adjacent toilet, and French doors leading onto a back deck so that — with some help getting in and out — she can enjoy a few hours of fresh air each day, reading, visiting with Pim, and listening to the birds and cicadas. I’ll admit, at first glance, I wondered if I had bitten off more than I could chew with this particular house guest. But our culturally-ingrained fear of aging, which is intimately connected to our western fear of sickness and death, proved to be the sole driver of my initial concerns. The vibrant human underneath that frail facade quickly assuaged my fears. Yes, Marianne requires a bit more care than previous house guests. Each morning, I come downstairs, make us both a cup of coffee, ensure that Marianne’s dishes are clean and within reach, and bring her two eggs (which she likes to eat raw, the way she did as a child in Prague), half-and-half for her coffee, and a fresh glass of water. Repeat at dinner time. On the first day, I wondered if these extra daily chores would quickly become an inconvenience, but now I find myself actually looking forward to the routine. Or maybe it’s just that Marianne is one of the most fascinating humans I’ve ever met. Talking with her is like a portal into a quickly fading past. I love to read history books, but nothing compares to sitting in a room with a real, live person who’s lived 1000 lives, who ended up in a Czech children’s home when her parents were sent to concentration camps, who grew up in a house with “tons of books but no money”, who asked her Harvard-educated husband for an open marriage back when women didn’t ask for that sort of thing, who still lives on her own in Manhattan, despite being almost entirely immobile, and who continues to make daily entries to the stream-of-consciousness blog she started in 2007. Like myself, Marianne is a writer. But I see myself in her in so many ways, beyond just the writing. A few times, I’ve even had somewhat of an out-of-body experience while listening to her talk; I’m suddenly 88-years-old, telling a similar story to my 42-year-old hostess, who thinks she knows so much about the world, but who knows practically nothing. Sitting around the dining room table the other night, having dinner with Marianne and my two girls, listening to her stories of Hitler-era Germany, I was overwhelmed with gratitude. To hear such stories from the mouth of a person who lived them, while she’s sitting at my table, is an experience that will cease to be possible within only a few years. But most of us are too preoccupied with the minutiae of daily life to notice, let alone care. We treat old people like shit because we don’t want to face our own aging, nor the inevitability of our own sickness and death. Yet old people, especially the rare few whose minds remain sharp as a tack, are the true embodiment of historical wisdom. When we read the pages of a history book, we must infer how the people who lived at that time experienced the events. We must guess how they felt, what they hoped for and feared, and why they acted the way they did. We read the words and project our own limited knowledge and experience onto those words. But when you are with someone who was actually there, you needn’t infer. She will tell you. “This is how it happened, this is how we felt, this is why we did what we did.” Sometimes you get really lucky, as I have, and you stumble upon a born storyteller with an extensive mental library of captivating tales. A radical sort of woman who has always lived how she chooses, screw what anyone else thinks, who can effortlessly transport you back to a proverbial film festival of memories that will — before too long — vanish from this world along with their mortal host. When Marianne talks about periods of her life that must have seemed so important and been so challenging at the time (marital woes, child rearing, boyfriends, jobs, lack of money), she does so as though she’s recounting the details of another’s life. Stress, anger, jealousy, passion, pride; that b.s. is reserved for the young. It’s easy to believe that we are the center of the universe, that our trials and tribulations are terribly unfair, and that it really matters whether we buy the car or remodel the guest bathroom, win an argument with our partner, or post a witty retort in a self-imposed Facebook battle. One day, if I am lucky, I too will be regaling a younger version of myself with tales of my long, storied life. As such, I embrace anything interesting that happens to me, good or bad, as a new story to add to my ever-growing collection. Words on a page may last forever, but words spoken by the one who lived them are precious, imbued with a kind of magic that only exists in life’s most temporal gifts.

I just read an article about the symbiotic relationship between plants and other living creatures, and it got me thinking. The plant accepts what we give (water and CO2), processes it, and releases what we need (oxygen and sugar) back into our shared atmosphere for the benefit of all beings, itself included. The plant does not get annoyed when the environment around it produces too much or not enough CO2. It adapts. Studies show that the more CO2 a plant takes in, the more it retains, preventing excess CO2 from being released back into the atmosphere around it. Just like the plant, we are interdependent on all living things, including other people. How we experience life is heavily influenced by how we receive what is given to us and return it to the atmosphere. We can receive anger and return calm, much like a plant takes in carbon dioxide and releases sweetness. The plant uses this sugar to grow stronger, as well as to attract insects and humans who will disperse the seeds of their fruits, thus aiding in their survival. By converting a stressor into something beneficial, the plant helps others and itself . If the purpose of a plant’s life is this symbiotic relationship with other living creatures, could this be our purpose as well? After all, nature loves patterns. Without an ego, the plant is free of attachment and judgment. In this way, the plant has a major advantage in its ability to accept what comes. Although we can never hope to be as stoic as a plant in the face of adversity, we can take a few pages from its book. When someone is an asshole, what if we accepted the negative energy, processed it, and returned something beneficial? Something that improves that person’s atmosphere, as well as our own. Questions to Ask Yourself Recall a negative interaction with another person. How could you have responded in a way that benefitted everyone involved, yourself included? Why does the ego make it so difficult to respond in a harmonious way to another's negative energy? Negative circumstances don't even require other people. Can you think of a time when you accepted a negative outcome, processed it, and returned something useful into the world?