A Good Road Trip Always Makes Life Better

I don't mind driving long distances. I actually like the experience of a long drive.
It allows me to think in peace, even with passengers in the car. There's something about the motion, I suppose. All of my best ideas have come to me while moving. And my whole life I've been a believer in the agito ergo sum adage i.e.: I move therefore I am.

The most recent trip however really opened my eyes to something. And that something is the ability to let things come to us. This way of thinking is foreign to someone who is wired for action and is generally a Type A. But I suppose, you live and you learn.

I got to spend time with someone that used to mean a lot to me a decade ago. The fast pace of life had sort of put a distance between us, both concretely and metaphorically. And when we decided to meet up for dinner, we were both sort of blown away by how naturally we came back to where we last left off. We even managed to reconstruct the last conversation we had in person, almost verbatim it felt like.

Time, I suppose, is indeed a human construct.

So, what I'm saying is, if you have people in your life that have truly left a mark on you, really get you, and from whom you learn a lot, make it a point to let yourself be impacted and guided by them.

Quality influences are not in high quantity in life. And when we're fortunate to get them in the first place, we need to make it a point to allow ourselves to let them come back to us.

I'm demonstrably better as a result of making time to connect with my special friend. We're both better as a result, I'm told. And life is too short to be deprived of the needed influence of quality people.

So, here's to fun, long road trips, the opportunity to think and reflect for a while, and the delectable dinner shared between special friends who share a great history. After all, and when dealing with true friendship, time never dilutes it. If anything, it makes it better!

So, cheers!

Notes on Sociality

When out with a friend I was asked, 'So, what's the secret to life?'

Now my friend has a great sense of humor and I reckoned I best respond to it with humor:

'Ah, right. Let's see. Do what you love. Be highly demanding of high quality of company in your life and never, ever, compromise on qualitative relationships. Never skip breakfast. Call your parents often. Don't start up a fight in the evening and don't go to bed angry. You know, the usu.
Dude, your hair looks weird today. Switched shampoos? So, what are you ordering?'

Subsequently, we both laughed as the end of the chunk was as a good a way to finish my bit as any and while I thought I'd just make a joke out of the question, I ended up giving a candid reaction.

I feel strongly about the importance of rooted sociality as, I find, it relates to much else of significance in life. When speaking with a younger family member I waxed philosophical again and apparently observed the following: 'When you make new friends, the first question you need to ask yourself is: Are they going to help me become a better version of myself? If not, that's why language has terms like: neighbor, colleague, riding buddy, acquaintance, someone I run into when I pick up my cleaning, my significant other's friend, my brother's best pal, friends, pals, buds, et al. ' To my surprise, the younger family member did not gift me with a rolling of the eyes. Instead what I got was: 'Yeahl Like so-and-so is fun but I wouldn't say we're like good friends, you know?'
"I know."

My poet grandfather used to say: 'Tell me who you go with and I'll tell you who you are.' And I believe that fully, too. Most certainly not out of familial obligation but out of sensible sincerity. I am of the thought that qualitative living is predicated upon conscienteous screening and careful examination of the quality of company in our dealings.

An examined existence is a qualitative existence and it needs to be preserved unapologetically. Call it a life philosophy, if you will. Tell me who you go with, I'll tell you who you are.

Bamber, an excellent blogger over at Prettier than Napoleon, writes:

"How involved do you get with your friends' lives? Do you support them in their time of trouble with a "there, there"? Take their side against all comers? Become emotionally invested in their struggles with third parties? I have a friend whose partner tired of her discussing the trials and travails of various friends and their drama, and sometimes I wonder if I too am too consumed with the interpersonal struggles of others. Does that consumption show that you're relatively caring and empathetic? Or is it just a waste of mental energy?"

Now, to answer Bamber's questions, I am of the opinion that involvement in friends' lives needs to be in accordance with the kind of intimacy and familiarity you mutually share. I believe in a hierarchy of emotional investment which is congruent with the level of intimacy that's bestowed upon the people in that hierarchy.
Being highly discriminative of one's emotional efforts and where they go is, to me, a sign of human maturity.
At least I hold this to be true.

Tip of the hat to Bamber for the food for thought.

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Bravo, Artist, For the Most Part, at Least

While reading Carrie Bronstein's blog, I got to thinking about the premise of her most recent post. She writes:
"Last week, I briefly mentioned the particular brand of awkwardness that occurs after watching a friend's less-than-stellar performance, or seeing their sub-par art exhibit, when they ask you, "So, what did you think?" We're all guilty of the little white lie that follows, which usually boils down to a generic compliment. Some of us, and I'll count myself among this crowd, even overcompensate and blurt out, "I LOVED IT." To any of my friends reading this entry, rest assured that I have never done this to you. I am talking about some other friend."

Carrie also includes a video of hers chronicling her own experience.
Here it is:



I also feel very strongly about the importance of supporting the arts and those who produce them for us. Now, having said this, I can honestly say that I can only think of one instance in which I had to tell a friend that her particular form of art didn't quite do it for me. And this is quite impressive as most of my friends are contributing artists.

Now, here's the exception. Years ago a musician friend performed a sax piece I didn't fully enjoy. Incidentally, Carrie's post today made me think of the experience again. I remember enjoying the beginning and middle part of her rendering but the conclusion left something to be desired. At the end she asked us, me in particular, what we/I thought of her performance. I said, 'It was very good, overall. There was a moment, though, towards the end where you paused longer than I thought the piece asked for. Was that an interpretative move?'

The friend got a tad upset by the end of the conversation. And yet I didn't understand why. In my way, I had also paid a compliment to her, I thought, by speaking so highly, as I should have, of the first part of her performance. I did, indeed, enjoy most of her performance just not all of it. For example, I believe Dante's Divina Commedia is one of the biggest contributions to Western literature but, at the same time, I don't care much for the third part of the work, namely, Paradiso. Inferno, on the other hand, i.e., the first part of the work, is simply incomparably superior. My copy of L'Inferno looks raggedy from constant use, whereas Paradiso could sell very well were I to put it on eBay. Anyway, the point is made, I suppose.

To placate the performing friend, I made a big banner, on top of which I wrote Shakespeare's signature line from the comedy, Twelfth Night: "If music be the food of love, play on, give me excess of it."

My friend was very touched by the gesture. She loved it. We went on to attending many other performances (by other artists) after that and now reminisce about the old college days quite fondly. Now, I could have interpreted this experience two ways:

1) Note to self: Next time you go to see a friend perform, leave the critic 'hat' at home and pick up the friend 'cap' instead. Utter a simple "Good job. That was....good!" and then suggest that you all grab a latte.

2) Honesty is always best. You can always apologize using Shakespearean words later. Or not.

3)What think ye?

What do you tend to say to people you know when you see their respective arts and performances?