A Dogged Pursuit

I love how a metaphor can help us think through some aspect of our lives. Sometimes, a verbal one tells a story that can be both illuminating and powerful. And occasionally a simple photo can do the same. I saw this simple picture today and was sparked to ponder a general feature of our existence.

For a new challenge, the first step is often the hardest, and as you struggle with it you may feel the frustration of being blocked from going any farther. But that's the nature of the new in our world. It's an experience we share with all those who now seem to be on top of the world, at the pinnacle of the highest staircase, to continue our metaphor, one they may even have had to build as they dreamed and did through their own struggles. But hope kept them going, or sheer persistence of will. If their intent was noble and for the greater good, we celebrate their grit, resilience, and alchemy. And we learn that the same qualities are available to us. So keep climbing, doggone it!

Gifts and Gratitude.

The third volume of the Roman philosopher Seneca's Moral Essays published by Harvard Press features a group of reflections entitled "On Benefits." At one place, Seneca states that benefits are the force that holds together society. We've all benefited from those who've gone before us and built the world in which we could come to be. We're alive because of all our ancestors who strove to live and work well in their own adventures. We're the beneficiaries of billions of people and trillions of choices, from those of the early humans in hunter gatherer bands to our neighbors and teachers and friends who have helped us without condition when we needed it. And our response to all of them and what they've done to make our lives possible should be a deep thankfulness, a gratitude of the spirit.

Surrounded by uncountable blessings and benefits, we too often choose instead to focus on the petty blows, bruises, and bullshit that comes our way. And so we miss the bliss. In one passage, Seneca reflects on the man who sees everything good in his life as being, at best, deserved payment for his own high merit. His sense of entitlement is so high that even what he thinks the world owes him always comes too slowly, with too much trouble, and even then still falls far short of what he believes he truly deserves. The philosopher clearly has fun mocking what's far too common an attitude on life. It's a perspective of course that we need to avoid.

As we grow more acutely aware of our many benefits, we should increase in gratitude, and in become more lavish in giving benefits to others. Gifts and Gratitude are the dynamic Yin and Yang of a full life. And indeed they provide the bond that can unite us all beneath our many causes of division, if they become our proper focus along the way. Happy Day of Thanksgiving to all my philosophical friends!

The Benefits of Confusion

Clarity often emerges on the far side of confusion. We have to go through the tangle to find the thread.

The ancient philosophers had a fascinating idea that few things in the world are intrinsically good or bad, but rather have their value residing in how we use them. How do they function in our lives? This can be true of confusion. Since the time of Socrates, people have wondered why Plato’s Dialogues portray him as questioning people about important concepts they thought they understood—like courage, or piety, or justice—and shaking them up, demolishing their felt certainties, and leaving them in confusion without a positive resolution or a “right answer” at the end of the conversation. It may be because Socrates thought of the confusion he left them in as having a power that a simple certainty could never possess. It might goad them into wrestling with ideas they’d taken for granted, and in the process they might not only find the truth themselves but be transformed by the search, something an easy answer could never provide.

In the opening of the Odyssey, Telemachus wants to know whether his father Odysseus is still alive, years after the Trojan War. The man has not yet returned home. The young man asks the goddess Athena, who knows the answer. But rather than just telling him and giving us a much shorter book, she suggests that he travel to a distant land to seek the answer, knowing that what he really needs more than information is the transformation that only such a risky journey can provide, if he is one day to be the properly strong partner for his father to help save their land from arrogant and rapacious enemies.

We like to think of questions as simple transactions. I give you a question, you give me an answer. Loop closed. Transaction complete. But the best questions aren’t like that at all. They take us on an adventure of search and understanding that’s much deeper than simply finding a true sentence at the end of the road. We become seasoned travelers in pursuing our concern. Like Telemachus, we get stronger. And we may be led through various stages of bewilderment and confusion along the way that cause us to rethink, reimagine, and discover what we might otherwise never have been able to think. It may all cause us to become what we otherwise might not have been able to be.

There are obviously some bad forms of confusion, for example, a drug or dementia induced mental fog, a terribly troubled state of mind that can produce a fight or flight panic, or a fervent wish to just shut down thought altogether. But there may be many good kinds of confusion as well and we need to appreciate them for what they’re worth.

Jean Paul Sartre once said of boredom that it’s a state of simultaneously too much and too little. We might say the same about many forms of confusion. It’s perhaps a state of mind that involves both too much and too little. Too much information, not enough knowledge; too much knowledge; not enough understanding; too much understanding but not enough wisdom; too much peripheral complexity, but not enough grasp of the essentially simple core.

Don’t fear the confusion that comes from real adventure, from grappling with new things. Don’t let it tie you in a knot. Take a breath, center yourself, and live into the adventure. Great clarity may eventually result.

Regis and Me

Regis Francis Xavier Philbin was a really good guy. I was at a Notre Dame football scrimmage, the springtime Blue and Gold Game, when an older coach came up to my row in the stands and yelled out, "Professor! I want you to come and meet one of my good friends! Can you come down for a minute?" "Sure, Coach." I made my way across the seats to Coach George Kelly and down the aisle as he tugged on my sleeve and said, "I've been wanting you to meet an old friend of mine. We go way back."

We got down closer to the field, only a few rows up, and the coach led me across a row of seats. "Regis, Regis, I want you to meet my favorite professor, Tom Morris." George Kelly patted me on the back. "Tom, this is my old friend Regis Philbin." I got a big smile from the television icon. His show, Live with Regis and Kathie Lee was at the peak of its popularity on ABC. "Professor, come sit down and visit!" I did, and he said, "What do you teach?" I said, "Philosophy." He said, "Wait a minute. You're my daughter's favorite professor." What? "She's in your big freshman class." "Really?" And we talked on and on for a long time. Regis had no sense of self importance or celebrity. He was just a nice funny guy. The man wanted to know all about me and what I did and at some point asked me if I was thinking about writing a book for general audience. I said, "I just did and it's out next year." "What's it about?" "True Success for everybody. The wisdom of the great thinkers." He lit up even more. "Let me know when it's published and we'll have you on the show to talk about it!" Wow. Ok. "I'll do it!"

Regis was the ideal conversationalist. Nothing was about him. Everything was about me and whomever was around. He was engaging, and really funny. In fact, I was so taken up in the moment I forgot to tell him that a few years before, when Notre Dame had won the National Championship, I had written, recorded, and released a rock and roll fight song called "The Fightin' Irish Are Back!" And Champion T Shirts made up a special shirt for it featuring the Irish Leprechaun playing my Fender Stratocaster electric guitar, with my initials added to the headstock: TVM. Regis had played the song on his national show and danced to it. And it didn't even occur to me to mention that to him.

A little more than a year later, I was on the famous sofa with him and Kathie Lee, in front of the live audience in late August of 1994, if I recall, talking about kids having success going back to school, and listening to him pitch my book to his national viewers. He'd come backstage to the Green Room to talk to me and make sure I felt his personal welcome and enthusiasm for the book True Success before the show. But of course I was in the Men's Room. But he met me in the hall and we had the best chat. He was a real motivator. After that little hallway talk, I could have suited up and played with the team. Even at my age. After the broadcast, he grabbed me and pulled me around all the cameras to the audience and held up my book and said, "Everybody go get this book right away! You'll love it!" And they did. And then I saw him at a few parties in South Bend on game weekends, and he was always kind, generous, happy, funny, and just a joy to be around.

His daughter and my philosophy student JJ has created her own show Single Parent, and her husband is the creator of The Good Place. Good people. Good work. Regis will be missed by all. Gone too soon. A good, good man who did great things for other people, like me. And that's true success.

Kindness

Kindness. In a surprising cultural time of snark, derision, and callous cruelty among people, it becomes a powerful and healthy counter-cultural act to be kind. If you use social media for any time and watch the news nightly, you'd almost think kindness was a foreign language, or perhaps the hardest thing in the world. And it's the very opposite. It's built into our nature as one of the requirements for proper spiritual growth and inner fulfillment. When we show kindness to others, we certainly benefit them, as well as the general tenor of society, but the deeper reality is that we cultivate our own garden in a beautiful way. So I often ask myself: Why wouldn't everyone want to do this? Nasty benefits no one. Kindness is good for all.

Philosophy Can Change a Life

I'm so thrilled at every email from a reader, even those who are determined to convince me I'm wrong about something. But every now and then I get one that says, "You changed my life." With the permission of the writer, I want to share one of those that came to me this week, with exactly that title. I hope this powerful message will nudge you to read some in the Stoic philosophers, whether through my book or someone else’s. The book referred to by my correspondent here, by the way, could be my least known general audience book, and yet I was gratified just today to see a philosopher I greatly respect and admire say that it should have been a top bestseller when it appeared. And there’s an interesting story about that. I always do my best to write books worth reading. I do hope I succeed! Now the email:

Dear Tom,

I read your book, The Stoic Art of Living, back in 2016. My life until that point had been pretty miserable. I suffered from terrible anxiety, depression, 24/7, obtrusive negative thoughts, anger, uncontrollable emotions, and a belief that I was destined to be unhappy.

I was introduced to Stoicism in a philosophy class a few years earlier, but I struggled to sift through the dense philosophical texts. Your book helped me take Stoic wisdom and actually apply it to my life. I remember reading it over and over, finding it so fascinating how each time I read it, a new gem of your wisdom popped out of me which was completely applicable to my current situation.

Over the years, I continued practicing Stoicism and finally overcame each of my struggles. Today, I experience a near-constant sense of happiness and freedom from negative thoughts (really, I have a clear mind free from such thoughts for ~95% of the day). I transformed from a complete pessimist to an eternal optimist. I know how to immediately practice neutrality toward adversity or turn challenges into something to be grateful for. I truly feel like a Stoic.

And now I help other people do the same. I developed an 8-week program where I teach people logic and principles from Stoicism that help them create happiness and change the way they respond to challenges. The methods that I use and have developed make the wisdom stick so it becomes second-nature. The results have been fantastic so far.

I just wanted to reach out and say thank you for changing my life and for the work you do to keep philosophy alive in the modern-day. I think with all of our technological progress, we’ve forgotten some of these basic laws of nature that allow us to create happiness regardless of our genetics, what we learned from the people who raised us, and the difficult experiences we’ve had.Your book had quite the ripple effect, not just on me, but everyone I've worked with who has benefited from the treasures of this ancient philosophy.I would love to hear what you’re up to. Thank you again!

Best Regards,

Kayla Trautwein

www.kaylatrautwein.com

For the book, click HERE.

My Father's Advice

My father was a country boy who didn't act or sound like one, and a high school graduate who read all the time. The few books he owned were mostly by philosophers. He led me to believe that there’s more to life than meets the eye, and that we cal all know more and do more than we think. He gave me some great advice about life that has helped me every step of the way. Here's a small sample.

Do a job as long as you love it and you think you have something distinctive to contribute. If either of those things changes, you need to make a change.

Life is supposed to be a series of adventures. Each one is preparing you for the next one in ways you sometimes can't even imagine. Be open for what's coming.

When you learn how to relax your body, you'll learn how to relax your mind.

Never forget the small joys of childhood. Never outgrow your eagerness to play. Try to have a little fun every day.

The Power of your mind is greater than you know. Learn how to use it. Quiet your racing thoughts. Turn down the volume. Then, the deeper areas of your mind can percolate upward and tell you what you need to hear.

Nature can be our best classroom. We can learn from its ways. But to do that well, we have to get outside and pay attention to what we see in the smallest natural things. And we have to remember that nature is not just around us, but also in us, too.

Take your time. Patience in your work allows your art, whatever it is, to grow and reach its capacity for beauty and usefulness.

Go fly a kite. Skip a stone across some water. Use a Yo-Yo. Try target practice with a sling shot. Build something just for fun. Your childhood is still inside you and needs a little care and attention now and then.

You never have to ask "What do I want to do for the rest of my life?" You just have to ask "What do I want to do next?" The rest of your life will take care of itself.

Read good books. Life is too short to read bad books, and too important and challenging not to read books at all. Invest in yourself. Read good books.

The Quest for More

A Thought While Reading a Book on Aristotle’s Understanding of Happiness:

It seems to be distinctive of human beings that we are always in search of more: More money, more affection, more success, more status, more love, more accolades, more stuff. Even those who praise simple living and seek to find new ways to simplify their lives, and who seem by contrast to live in pursuit of less, are really often in their own manner on the lookout for more—more ways to trim and cut and do without, always seeking novel ideas for living with less and less. It’s for them even a quest for more less.

It's a temptation to think there's something intrinsically wrong with the desire for more, as if it bespeaks a discontent of the soul. But what would ever be wrong with a desire for more wisdom, more growth, more chances to do something good, more spiritual depth, more opportunities to show real love? What's needed is discernment. What are healthy needs for more, and what aren't? A wise and good life finds the right balance of more and less, more or less.

The Old Man and the Sea

I just finished reading Ernest Hemingway’s little book The Old Man and the Sea for the first time in my adult life. I’m sure I had to read it in high school but remember nothing of the experience. I can imagine, however, the average student of that age saying, “We had to read this stupid story about this stupid old man and his stupid fish. It was all so stupid.”

And maybe for the young, it is. But not for those of us who have lived a bit more. It’s of course a story about a poor old fisherman in Cuba that was first published as a book in 1952 and won a Pulitzer Prize, as well as being cited in Hemingway’s Nobel Prize for Literature citation awarded two years later. First printed as a magazine article in Esquire many years before, it has haunted readers for each decade since.

The old man, Santiago, seems to have run out of luck. He’s in a dry patch. He has not caught a fish in 84 days. But he’s determined to go out and catch a big one. So he ventures out in his little boat much farther than is normal, out to where the biggest fish may be found. And after a time, he eventually hooks a huge Marlin who pulls him and his small boat farther away from land for three dqys. They fight and struggle and all the old man’s knowledge and skill are put to the test. Can he have the success of which he has dreamed? Can he endure all that is required? It's hugely difficult, but the answer is yes. The fish finally succumbs and is lashed to the boat and the old man heads back toward land with dreams of the glory and the needed practical income that will result from such a huge and perfect specimen, bigger than anyone has ever seen. It may even be a life changing accomplishment.

But the old man is out on the water alone. He has not brought along the strong boy who is his friend and who often accompanies him on fishing trips. During the extended struggle with the giant fish, he often wishes he had brought the boy with him to help. Another pair of hands could have been so useful. But he struggles mightily and prevails all alone and is glad. Yet, his solitary success is quickly followed by a new challenge. Sharks descend on the huge Marlin he has caught and the old man is limited in what he has with him to use to defend the catch. Thinking of something he could have brought with him, and should have brought along, he finally says to himself words that flow down the decades and into all of our lives:

Now is no time to think of what you do not have. Think of what you can do with what there is. (83)

When life hands you lemons, make lemonade. Or if you forgot to prepare for your adventure with sugar and water, is there at least some vodka around that you could use?

Santiago fights the first shark that attacks with a harpoon. After losing it, he lashes a knife to an oar and does battle with the next sharks who come. When that’s also gone, he begins to club at the predators. And eventually he is out of options. The thieves of the sea take more and more chunks out of his magnificent catch until there is nothing left but the spectacular spine and bones as a trophy of success and testimony of subsequent failure. He has lost what he had fought so hard to gain.

When he returns, exhausted, demoralized, bruised and cut up, he sleeps and the boy takes care of him. After they talk, the boy says: “Now we fish together again.”

The old man replies, “No. I am not lucky. I am not lucky anymore.”

“The hell with luck,” the boy said. “I’ll bring the luck with me.” (92)

And then they begin to discuss what they will need to bring along with them to be properly prepared for anything they might face together.

And that’s a perspective and trajectory we all need. Great effort is sometimes followed by failure. Even great success can wither on the vine. Don’t let disappointment stop you, however deep and desperate it might be. And never just wait for luck. Bring the luck with you. Take action. Partner up with someone who can help boost your spirits and aid your cause. Prepare. Move forward once more. Remember: There is always a new dream and a new chance and many fish in the sea.

For the book, click HERE.

Flying High

Wilbur and Orville Wright were two small town bike mechanics with a dream. Everyone said they were “nuts” and “crackpots” and even people who knew and liked them as people could not figure out why they were “wasting their time” chasing an absurd impossibility. Man would never fly. It was ludicrous. But they were determined and worked hard at their dream, despite frequent setbacks, mistakes, accidents, and trials and miseries beyond anything they had ever imagined.

They might feel disappointment for a moment or hours, but the next day were back hard at work. Resilience, persistence, an attention to detail, and a courage that would not give up began to have their effects. But on one difficult day, Wilbur had been worn down and actually said that the dream might not happen for a thousand years. And then, within a year or two, it did.

But even when they were successful, most people didn’t believe it. They were ridiculed, castigated, demeaned, and called liars and worse. And yet they kept their heads up, maintained their inner poise, and kept working to improve their flying machine, pushing it to greater and greater accomplishments. When finally their success was public and undeniable, they became huge celebrities, which brought big financial payoffs, but actually got in the way of their work. And still, they found ways to persist and fight through fame as they had fought through infamy and failure.

Even though Wilbur died of typhoid fever at the age of 45, he left a lasting legacy that changed the world for us all. Orville carried on but it was never the same as the great partnership they had enjoyed, in bad times and good times. It’s a great lesson and encouragement to any of us who dream impossible dreams and struggle to bring to the world the best we can create. It helps to find a great partner who can share the dream, the work, and the eventual results. And when we face turbulent strong headwinds, we should remember what Wilbur once wrote in his notebook: “No bird soars in a calm.”

For more, go read The Wright Brothers, a great book on these guys by David McCullough.

https://amzn.to/2ExMdhQ

Me, Myself, and I—Oh, You!

I’m reading a wonderful little book by Japanese Billionaire and Buddhist Priest Kazuo Inamori, A Compass to Fulfillment: Passion and Spirituality in Life and Business, and he tells a simple and powerful story. I'll retell it briefly in my own words.

A young Buddhist comes up to his priest and says, “Can you explain to me the difference between heaven and hell?”

The priest says, “Well, both places are a lot alike, as places. It’s the people that are different.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well in hell, people have all their meals at large round tables seating eight. They discover on arrival, to their surprise, that all the chopsticks are three or four feet long, and must be held in the proportionately normal place. When they dip into the big pot in the middle of the table to get their noodles, and try to eat, they find to their great frustration that the sticks are far too long and they can’t get the food to their mouths. They keep trying and failing, and it goes on and on. Everyone is starving and irritated and angry.”

“That’s awful.”

“Yes. Then, in heaven, the setup is the same, but the actions are quite different. Realizing what they’re confronted with, everyone there uses the long chopsticks to pick up the noodles and offer them to the person directly across the table, for their enjoyment. And that person does the same. Everyone feeds his neighbor and is fed by him, and a great and wonderful feast is enjoyed by all.”

Elf on the Shelf and the Specter of Cognitive Decline

So. Apparently it was me. I was the one at fault. Without any shred of mindful, occurrent awareness of what I was doing, I had closed the kitchen cabinet doors, shutting in and away from view, our very own Elf on the Shelf.

I had been instructed before bedtime that our small thin and red-garbed guest would be residing overnight in the kitchen cabinet amid such items as pepper, and pasta, and assorted baking goods. And I was to leave the cabinet doors wide open so that he and his faithful steed, the silent reindeer, could be suitably discovered in the morning by our granddaughter, who has successful espied the capricious imp in creative recline, lo these many December days for countless years past.

And, apparently, when I paused a viewing of A Place to Call Home (Australian TV through subscription service) to prepare a bowl of popcorn and festoon it with fresh ground black pepper alongside blistered southern North Carolina peanuts, I grabbed the pepper mill from right under the visiting lad's dangling feet and spiced the corn, and then performed the forbidden act of closing the cabinet doors on Elf, who then had to endure the entire night in the company of boxes of uncooked pasta and sundry spices. But of course, the true crime was the rendering of him as relatively undiscoverable in the morning's dash to school.

I tell this sad tale for a reason. When confronted with the evidence of my wrongdoing, the clearly closeted Elf, I had literally no memory of having performed the heinous deed of shutting him away. Zero visual recall. And of course, I assumed that either my wife was the unintentional culprit, or that our large black and white cat had, on the prowl, decided to close the cabinet doors, but then of course, so silently as to give no hint of his mischief. It could not have been me. It was epistemically impossible that I could have done such a thing without even the slightest trace of memory. I could have accepted the hypothesis of rambunctious poltergeist before admitting that I could have been the doer of the deed.

I tell you all this for a reason. Don't worry. I haven't forgotten my point, as I had my mistake. Anyone at my age, and especially with my profession, sensibly prefers never to entertain a possible implication of poor memory, indicative as it might be of any measure of cognitive decline. It couldn't have been me! I cast a suspicious glance at the border collie. They are known for their canny intellect and prodigious feats of physical surprise. But no. All signs pointed to the philosopher. It was truly alarming.

But then I remembered the phenomenon of "selective attention." A decade or more ago, a video was being passed around of some boys playing basketball on an outdoor court. Viewers of the short clip were then asked if they had seen anything unusual. And I, like most others, replied with some perplexity that I had not. It was then revealed that a man in a gorilla suit had walked slowly through the video frame behind the action of our focused attention. We could not have been more surprised. So, perhaps, in my intense focus on popcorn and pepper and peanuts, and getting back quickly to the show, I had astonishingly not noticed the Elf of whose presence I had been warned, sitting just above the pepper. I had fixed my snack and, out of habit, closed the cabinet —a habit to whose superiority any married man will gladly attest. So that was it, not a memory lapse due to age, harbinger that it might be of untoward things to come, but merely the trick of selective attention, a weakness that can accompany any of us, whatever our age. That was it!

But then, I had been told of the Elf's location and need for fresh air. That, I had clearly forgotten in my own late night kitchen raiding activities. And this element was not about selective attention. So I had to admit to myself, the most stringent of judges on matters of evidence and reasoning, that a common attendant of age had been responsible for my lapse. And at that exact moment, I suddenly also realized I'd been waking around the house all morning without remembering to zip up my pants. Oh, well.

But then, the Elf himself comforted me with tales of his boss, and the Jolly Old Elf's own forgetfulness, after all the centuries of lists and appraisals of childhood conduct, and changes of address. You yourself may have been victim to a "naughty or nice" mix-up at some point. Mrs. Claus could only roll her eyes. And yet, still, he somehow gets the job done. And so, shall, perhaps I, despite such momentary, and at the same time, monumental, reminders that as the years pass, so will some of our capacities of mental retention. But don't yet put me on the shelf, Ok?

Socrates and Jesus

I always had my Intro to philosophy students read Plato's Apology (The Greek word means "Defense"), an account of the trial of Socrates, during the first week of our class, because of the portrait contained there of a man wholly dedicated to the life of the mind. Offered the chance to live and go free if he would just stop doing philosophy on the city streets, Socrates said, "As long as I live and breathe, I shall never cease to philosophize." My students were stunned to see an adult, as they would say, committed to a mission, so imbued with a purpose, that he would willingly go to his death rather than recant or change his ways. Such determination! Such passion!

Socrates was intensely committed to truth. And he died for that commitment. Jesus, by contrast, was fully committed to love, and he died for that.

I would suggest that you can be committed to truth without an equal felt commitment to love and compassion, but that you can't really and fully be committed to love without also thoroughly honoring truth. So Socrates had, perhaps, a big part of life's puzzle, but not the whole thing.

An old professor, an orthodox Jewish Rabbi who taught philosophy of science, once said to me, "Christianity is all about what you believe, while Judaism is all about what you do." Well. It's not quite so stark, is it? But I get what he was saying. Since Jesus was a Jew, and so were most of the early Christians, maybe we should dig a bit deeper. Perhaps Christianity is more about an attitude and commitment of the heart than about either the beliefs or the actions that might properly attend that attitude and commitment. We do cherish our beliefs and opinions. We're willing to fight for them. Maybe we should cherish God and his creatures more.

There's this other contrast between Socrates and Jesus. Socrates could come across as arrogant. Jesus, strangely, despite alluding repeatedly to his own literal divinity, seemed to live and preach humility. The trick in life is to have all the right commitments, but with all the right attitudes.

The Greeks didn't appreciate the deep power of humility. Christian theologians have, because of Jesus. In the end, truth may indeed be worth dying for. But it's love that's worth living for.

On Being Open: Adventures and Maps.

One of the greatest human qualities is a genuine openness to new ideas. Socrates perhaps pioneered the view that wisdom could consist in knowing how much you don't know, and being open to explore and learn.

Our problem, typically, though, is that our openness is limited and very temporary. I'm open to learn until I think I have, and then I quickly close down that particular aperture of openness and draw a map that I henceforth use to chart my way forward, with much less of a readiness to being further corrected or educated on the matter I now think I know. Maybe that's just me. But I suspect it's also a tendency in many other people. And when we have a map, we hold on to it tightly.

The problem is that pioneers have often been terrible map makers. The first explorers of any continent or island typically drew up very inaccurate maps of the new territory. It took other people, later on, to get things straight. And that gives me a nice metaphor for my own intellectual exploring. I shouldn't be so quick to think that the first map of a territory that I draw up mentally is just fine, and fully accurate. I shouldn't let it block further openness. A map is fine, and useful, but maybe it's better thought of as a place to start than as a place to end. Perhaps it shouldn't shut down my eagerness to learn and even change my mind, but rather spur it on.

Just a thought.

I'll Rise Up and Fly

When I was young
I thought I could fly.
If I ran just right,
I'd rise into the sky
and go over the yard and the house
and the trees
until, floating a bit,
I'd catch a good breeze
and neighbors would see
and squint into the sun
and say "Come here and look
at what this kid has done!"
I'd continue to rise
and with such a big smile
my grin could be viewed
at least for a mile.
And, even today
I think, if I try,
the time may yet come
when I'll rise up and fly.

I've posted this little reflection before, and bring it to you again because of how it captures an aspiration deep in the soul for something lofty and noble. My childhood fantasy and true belief can continue to inspire me to rise high in the world of the spirit. I hope it can touch you with the same reminder of early dreams and ongoing possibilities. TM

My Favorite Book. Ever.

Yesterday, in a magazine interview over the phone, the writer asked me, “What’s your favorite book?” I actually get asked that a lot and never before knew what to say. I have lots of favorites. But I just may have discovered my favorite novel of all time and perhaps even my single favorite book, excluding of course, The Bible, which should never be a part of such comparisons in the first place, for several reasons. And I’ve learned that my new favorite book is considered a classic, though I’ve never heard of it before. It looks like a book for children, and in particular, for little girls. But it’s out now in a beautiful edition that the former little girl in our home had owned for years. Anna Bond, a family friend at Rifle Paper Company in Winter Park, Florida designed the new cover. Look them up if you don’t know their amazing work.

Anyway, the book is A Little Princess, by Frances Hobson Burnett, and was first published in 1905. It portrays the unlikely adventures of a young girl in London who, after living a charmed first stretch of life, is thrust into challenging, bleak and difficult circumstances beyond anything she could have anticipated. And yet, she uses the amazing power of the imagination, and the equally great power of good manners, and ultimately true kindness, to prevail over all. It’s one of the best books I’ve ever come across on inner resilience and the power of the mind. It’s charming, and even heartwarming, but most of all, it’s deeply wise.

Let me give you a sample, although excerpts can’t really convey the impact of the expertly told story, whose lessons often come through in subtle ways. In one scene, the headmistress of her school, Miss Minchin, speaks to young Sara, the elegant princess of our title, with great harshness, heaping on untrue and unfair accusations, while Sara listens without any sign of anger, hurt, agitation, or reply. She then muses over her own restraint, and especially on the fact that, unlike most people, she doesn’t answer the unjust accusations.

"As to answering, though," said Sara, trying to console herself, "I don't answer very often. I never answer when I can help it. When people are insulting you, there is nothing so good for them as not to say a word—just to look at them and THINK. Miss Minchin turns pale with rage when I do it, Miss Amelia looks frightened, and so do the girls. When you will not fly into a passion, people know you are stronger than they are, because you are strong enough to hold in your rage, and they are not, and they say stupid things they wish they hadn't said afterward. There's nothing so strong as rage, except what makes you hold it in—that's stronger. It's a good thing not to answer your enemies. I scarcely ever do. (Puffin Edition, 147)

And another, longer, passage, after a particularly shocking development:

Then a thought came back to her which made the color rise in her cheek and a spark light itself in her eyes. She straightened her thin little body and lifted her head.

 "Whatever comes," she said, "cannot alter one thing. If I am a princess in rags and tatters, I can be a princess inside. It would be easy to be a princess if I were dressed in cloth of gold, but it is a great deal more of a triumph to be one all the time when no one knows it. There was Marie Antoinette when she was in prison and her throne was gone and she had only a black gown on, and her hair was white, and they insulted her and called her Widow Capet. She was a great deal more like a queen then than when she was so gay and everything was so grand. I like her best then. Those howling mobs of people did not frighten her. She was stronger than they were, even when they cut her head off."

 This was not a new thought, but quite an old one, by this time. It had consoled her through many a bitter day, and she had gone about the house with an expression in her face which Miss Minchin could not understand and which was a source of great annoyance to her, as it seemed as if the child were mentally living a life which held her above the rest of the world. It was as if she scarcely heard the rude and acid things said to her; or, if she heard them, did not care for them at all. Sometimes, when she was in the midst of some harsh, domineering speech, Miss Minchin would find the still, unchildish eyes fixed upon her with something like a proud smile in them. At such times she did not know that Sara was saying to herself: "You don't know that you are saying these things to a princess, and that if I chose I could wave my hand and order you to execution. I only spare you because I am a princess, and you are a poor, stupid, unkind, vulgar old thing, and don't know any better."

 This used to interest and amuse her more than anything else; and queer and fanciful as it was, she found comfort in it and it was a good thing for her. While the thought held possession of her, she could not be made rude and malicious by the rudeness and malice of those about her. "A princess must be polite," she said to herself.

 And so when the servants, taking their tone from their mistress, were insolent and ordered her about, she would hold her head erect and reply to them with a quaint civility which often made them stare at her.

 "She's got more airs and graces than if she come from Buckingham Palace, that young one," said the cook, chuckling a little sometimes. "I lose my temper with her often enough, but I will say she never forgets her manners. 'If you please, cook'; 'Will you be so kind, cook?' 'I beg your pardon, cook'; 'May I trouble you, cook?' She drops 'em about the kitchen as if they was nothing." (pages 164-5)

Our Princess thinks of herself as protected by a sort of benevolent magic. She once says, "Somehow, something always happens," she cried, "just before things get to the very worst. It is as if the Magic did it. If I could only just remember that always. The worst thing never QUITE comes." (page 220)

If you treat yourself to this magnificent little book, you’ll be glad, and you'll feel Sara's Magic.

http://amzn.to/2pebli9

Lunch with Norman Lear

Ok. So. One day years ago I had lunch with Norman Lear at his vacation home in Vermont, formerly owned by Robert Frost, and then the famous abstract artist Kenneth Noland (look him up if you don't know his work). It's a beautiful place adjacent to a state forest. The photo here is Norman standing at one of the doors. We ate outside on the porch. Sunny. Perfect temperature of about 70 degrees, with a light breeze. I think we had sandwiches and various picnic salads fixed by his chef and staff. I could hardly focus on what I was eating. Because, hey, it was Norman Lear. Sitting two feet away from me. Maybe three. Creator of All in the Family, The Jeffersons, Sanford and Sons, Good Times, Maude, and on and on, while also funding and producing movies like This is Spinal Tap, The Princess Bride, and Fried Green Tomatoes. And in his spare time founding People for the American Way, among other organizations. I later had lunch with him at a Las Vegas hotel dining room, and later still at the Biltmore Hotel in Montecito, California. The food was always good, I think, but it's the talk I remember. And one day, walking through the kitchen in his Brentwood Hills LA home, The kitchen staff was cooking up something really great, but I had to be somewhere else. You know philosophy. Always something. Busy, busy.

But back to the vacation house. We had a nice little lunch party. Norman and me, along with the then Dean of the Harvard Divinity School and his wife, and Tom and Kate Chappell, married founders of Tom's of Maine, the eco friendly personal care products company. The six of us laughed a lot. I was pretty funny. Norman wasn't bad, either. I remember that Fed Ex pulled up with a package about every fifteen minutes, and he got a phone message about every five minutes, all of which he waved off until somebody important was "calling from the plane" and he had to absent himself for a few minutes. Hollywood. 

After lunch, Norman invited me to take a walk with him, just the two of us, to talk. We ended up lying in the grass in his huge front yard and pondering life and creativity and the spirit. He said, "It took me a long time to realize the importance of ethics and spirituality in life, and that if you don't get these two things right, you'll not likely get anything else right." That was pretty profound, and deeply true. He also asked me if being creative ever made me romantically frisky. But he used other words. I said, "Hmm. I never thought about it, but I guess so. How about you, Norman?" He said, "All the time, Tom. All the time."

Ethics. Spirituality. Creativity. And other stuff.

I've got many more stories from that and other lunches, but I should sign off now. I'm feeling creative.

More Random Morning Thoughts

Too many people condemn things they don't understand, mistaking a lack of grasp for a grasp of lack.

Sympathetic understanding is a spiritual discipline that can be transformative.

We’re here to expand our perspectives, our knowledge, our wisdom, our compassion, and thus our souls.

Depending on your outer circumstances for your inner peace is always a mistake. The turbulence of events around us can never produce the calm we need.

True peace comes from deep within, but can never bubble all the way to the surface if there are obstacles in the way. I should regularly ask what obstacles are in my heart.

The oasis within each of us needs cultivation. And only we can do the inner work to keep it in good condition.

Harmony strengthens. Disharmony weakens. A proper pursuit of truth, goodness, beauty, and unity is thus not unrelated to our other goals.

Souls can be tuned together, as we sometimes see on championship sports teams or, much more rarely, in business. Such harmony is peak power and a way of joy.

Resurrection: The Insight of Easter.

Resurrection. It's about radical transformation and new life. It's about disaster and even death as the doorways for redemption. It's about apparent failure and ultimate success. It's about vivid appearances and unsuspected realities. It's about having these treasures in earthen vessels.

The original disciples, our predecessors and paradigms of faith, abandon the one in whom they had hoped, and give up their aims in despondency—they flee the path and the project, in a failure of both understanding and courage, and thereby provide an example for all of us unfaithful, weak, panicked souls that we need not be shamed by our lack of sturdy steadfastness, but rather inspired that strength can come of weakness, that honor can come of humility, and that the plan for all things is a massive, wonderful turnaround.

In the darkest of times, the light still shines. Happy Easter.

A Passion for Excellence

Chef Anthony Bourdain has hosted a great new series of short films on the passion and impressive craftsmanship that can lie behind amazing handmade items. In one episode, he talks to a tailor who mentions the thousand of stitches a customer will never be aware of. I could relate to that as an author. In editing my novels, I spend hours a day taking out or putting in punctuation marks, or a word, or a phrase. The reader will never know how many thousands of such decisions I've made in polishing the flow of language meant to evoke mental pictures and spiritual insights. But these choices will have done their work unseen and unknown. And each is important. Mastery, in the end, is all about the little details that may never be noticed by anyone other than the master. But they make for excellence.

The tailor episode link is below. I'd guess these films are less than 6 minutes each. You'll be treated by each to new insights.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jks5VHQ9Q0o