Once you stop to listen you’re hooked.
—John Ashbery
I did aim for meaningful. A bit pleasant.
Well-mannered – well, I suppose by virtue
of growing up in the South, you’d think that
would come naturally. It did not. I like a few
variations on the construct of family, but prefer
to build one to my liking. Even though you told
me that construction doesn’t work that way, con
struction doesn’t work that way. I was blessed
to spend my early years nearby family—immediate,
grandparents, aunts and uncles, great grandparents.
Not everyone gets that, and I’m grateful. All said, I
still prefer one hard-earned, intentional. That’s hard
in me. I say every day I try for better than the last.
In everything. Me. The day. Furthering my education.
Purposefulness. Efficacy. Steadfastness. Resilience.
Health? Some things persevere until they do not, and
I lean heavily upon the impossible satisfaction of having
put my best foot forward when it gives and I’m gone.
But what of the hedonism so at odds with these puritanical
reflexes? Between the logical and the romantic? Just when
I think wisdom kicks in, for what have I lived, stomping each
value into a grave, growing new ones, killing them off, all of
the unlearning. My best advice is offer less advice. My best
life is yet to come, but always now, now, now. Remember
to sleep. Articulate well. Learn generosity during the
poorest moments. Find the steepest incline that you might
climb on your own. Assert your knowledge, practice the art
of stating facts clearly and with flair. Be present. Consciously
listen more often than you speak. Swim in the arts. Step out
your door. Greet others in earnest. Pay attention to what goes
on behind closed doors. Get to know folks who educate our
children. Censor yourself less. Get to know the P.O.V. Become
an expert at something. Always assume there are more than two
ways to answer a question or to fix a problem. Be mindful of and
stretch boundaries. Live on the fringe and engage often and
enthusiastically within the margins.
