While this edition of the paper is out in the world, I will be crossing the threshold into my 54th year. I love my birthday. John Denver put it best when he sang, “It turns me on to think of growing old.” And, as the old axiom goes, it beats the alternative – as someone who danced the thin line between here and the hereafter at one point, I firmly agree with that. Having a birthday near the beginning of the year adds a layer to the introspection and reflection that normally happens for all of us when the calendar changes, so I thought I’d share some lessons I’ve learned.
If you’re not interested, you can turn the page – I learned that shit decades ago.
Identify as a reader
During the year, I had the opportunity to interview Alvin Irby, founder of Barbershop Books, about his works encouraging young Black boys to identify as readers. “Identify as readers.” Alvin put into words something that has been on my mind the past couple of years when my job gently pulled off my rosie-colored glasses. As an avid reader, I assumed everyone reads regularly and it is not so. I believe literacy and being actively literate are key to many of the challenges we humans face. I’ve decided to focus my altruism and philanthropy, humble as my efforts may be, on encouraging a culture of reading.
Practice sword
Over the past year, I learned about Qui Jin, the Chinese revolutionary, feminist, writer and all-around badass when I ran across these words from her: “Read books. Practice sword.”
For her, practicing the sword was literal but for me it means to be mindful of when to fight, when to argue. A few months ago, my friends and I found ourselves taking a stand against transphobia, though nobody in the conversation was trans. I can’t speak for my friends, but the weight of responsibility to the community had me vibrating with vulnerability.
Somehow we were eloquent in stating our case and the outcome was positive. There is astounding bravery in being your true self and the very least I can do is to speak up when necessary. I like to think Qui Jin, herself a rebel against gender norms, would be proud of us.
You’re right, I’m right
I read the book “This Is Marketing” by Seth Godin as a work activity. Traditional marketers who live and die by numbers have a hard time with the book because Godin essentially says your numbers mean crap, but I ate it up.
A takeaway from the book for me was the concept of two rights. In marketing terms, a consumer not using your product is right. They have their reasons based on their life experience, and they are right not to use your business.
Apply this more broadly to everyday opinions. If I’m having a discussion with someone, I need to start from the perspective that we’re both right. (I have to let go of “unequivocal” views, which is particularly hard when dealing with issues like hate.) If I think the person is open to seeing things a different way, as in the example above, then it makes sense to proceed, otherwise I’m wasting my time.
Speak no evil
Talking to Ellen DeGeneres about playing Mister Rogers, Tom Hanks shared an acronym that has helped me over this past year, W.A.I.T. – Why Am I Talking? It’s a reminder to listen and to be sure what you have to say betters the conversation and is said in a thoughtful way.
The technique has gotten me through many web calls when my frustration over this pandemic world and its disappearing-limbs-Zoom-
backgrounds wanted to come colorfully flowing out of my mouth. I will admit W.A.I.T. combined with the last lesson has made lunches with my dad quieter and I struggle to be comfortable in the silence –it’s been a tense four years, if you get my drift.
Friends are rainbows
The final lesson I’ll share from this trip around the sun comes from the Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hahn who introduced me to the idea of thinking of friends as rainbows. I’ve spent a ridiculous amount of my life worrying over friends. I was doing fear of missing out long before it had trendy initials. I’ve wasted time and probably was responsible for blowing the flames out on more than one friendship with jealousy and codependence.
When we see a rainbow, we enjoy the rainbow, we marvel at the rainbow, the rainbow makes us happy. When the rainbow isn’t there, we don’t sit around worrying about where it is.
Seeing your friends as rainbows is admittedly easier said than done. I mean, rainbows don’t have Instagram accounts where they post pictures of themselves out at a bar with someone who isn’t me, but I promise it helps.
Lest you think this column has been about Scottie Campbell attaining enlightenment, let me say I have to actively review all these lessons.
As my rainbows will tell you, I’m a fallible work-in-progress who knows the greatest lesson is that it’s never too late to learn.
