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Truth Gets Ugly And Brutal. Deal With It.
September 13, 2016
charles i. letbetter - truth gets ugly and brutal. deal with it

In a time of universal deceit — telling the truth is a revolutionary act. —George Orwell

 

charles i. letbetter - truth is ugly and brutal

Truth is rarely as pretty or as palpable as we want. Truth is rather brutal and we need to deal with it.

I had a conversation early this morning, before walking the dog, with a friend who is sitting with his father, waiting for him to die. I’ve sat in that chair, where there’s nothing one can do to bring them back or make their exit from this plane of existence more comfortable. Truth is, we’re all going to be there. If we’re not in the chair holding the hand of a parent, we’re the one in  the bed.

I teased elsewhere this morning that I looked in the mirror and realized that I’m too old and too ugly to die young and leave a good-looking corpse. Mirrors force us to face truth in ways we don’t especially enjoy. Truth is often brutal. Perhaps that’s why we  tend to avoid it so much. Try as we may, though, truth catches up with us sooner or later.

An article came across my desk recently, 20 Brutal Truths About Life No One Wants to Admit. While some of the points are a bit redundant (that happens when an editor insists that lists be in conveniently round numbers), the truths he mentions are valid for all of us. We don’t like acknowledging them, to be sure, but if we’re going to get through life with any level of contentedness, we have to deal with things we don’t like.

There’s No Escaping Death

You’re going to die. Your friends are going to die. Everything and everyone around you is going to die. Furthermore, no one controls when that might happen. As much as I like to say I’m going to live long enough to be a pain in the ass to my grandchildren, the truth is I don’t control when I’m going to die. None of us do. I could just as easily step out the back door and be taken out by a random rabid owl. While that scenario isn’t exactly likely, there are far too many things over which we have no control that could cause us to die suddenly and unexpectedly. An unknown space object could come crashing to the earth. Volcanoes could suddenly swallow North America. North Korea.

We don’t deal with the thought of mortality well and that needs to change. Realize that all those awards, the size of your bank account, all those accomplishments don’t mean a damn thing when you’re lying on your death bed. That’s assuming you even get a death bed. There are myriad paths to fatality where you’re alive one moment and not the next. We might think we’re going to die of cancer then get hit by a bus on our way to the clinic.

A lot of people talk about leaving a legacy. A lot of that talk is horseshit. Just because your name is on a half-dozen buildings doesn’t mean anyone actually cares about who you were or that your goals and ideals live on. Charities happily take your money and then, once you’re dead, do what they damn well please with it. If you want your money to do something, do it now.

Do Something That Actually Matters

Hard truth: accumulating wealth doesn’t matter. You don’t take it with you and you can’t really control what happens to it when you’re gone. The best you can hope to do is guide how your money is spent and even that is dubious. Even giving your money away isn’t nearly as impactful as charities like to make you believe. If you really want to make a difference: donate your time. Being hands on with a cause that is important makes much more difference than just giving money.

What we do with our lives, how we spend those waking moments, are what lead us to happiness and fulfillment. Searching for happiness itself is a fruitless effort; you won’t just find it sitting in a cafe somewhere waiting for you . Happiness happens when you do things. Good things. Things that help other people. Things that make a difference to the planet.

Don’t over think everything you do. You can’t be perfect nor can you please everyone. Don’t waste your time telling other people what to do, get in there and do it yourself and let everyone else follow if they want. It is much more important that you set a good example than trying to lead everyone else from the sidelines. If you want to leave a legacy, make it one of achieving what no one thought you could achieve.

Time Matters

Since  any one of us could croak at any minute, that makes every moment in which you’re not dying all the more important. That means, truth be told, you need to set some priorities and start managing the hell out of your life. Love someone? Don’t just tell them, show them. Spend time with the people who mean the most to you. Show them you care. I promise, when they’re lying in a bed dependent upon constant IVs and other assistance in order to exist, it doesn’t matter how fucking busy you thought you were or how important you thought you were being. Nothing matters more than the time you spend with the people you love.

The truth of our mortality also dictates that if you want to do something you’d best get busy doing it now. Don’t wait to ask for permission if you don’t need to. Don’t wait until the timing is more convenient because that never happens. Timing is never convenient. So, if you want to start a family, take the steps necessary to start a family. If you want to learn a language, start talking. If you want to travel, start walking.

One of the biggest mistakes we make is that we sit back and let life happen to us. We are being lazy and stupid when we do that. No one is going to show up at the front door and just hand you a bundle of cash. No one is going to walk up to you on the street and just offer you a dream job. We have to make life happen for ourselves. Otherwise, we look up one day and realize we’re 70 years old and all we’ve done with our lives is wait.

Take It From Someone  Who Failed

At the end of the article I mentioned earlier is a brief video conversation with Bill Bartman. Bill understands the truth about how nasty and ugly and terribly inconvenient things can be. He has had it all and lost every last bit of it. He understands, though, that we don’t let failure stop us from taking risks, living life, and getting things done. So, I’ll leave you with that video. It’s only five and a half minutes, so take the time to watch. Then go. Do. Live.

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PotD
The Virtue of Silence
January 26, 2016
charles i. letbetter - virtue of silence

I have learned silence from the talkative, toleration from the intolerant, and kindness from the unkind; yet, strange, I am ungrateful to those teachers.—Khalil Gibran

 

 

charles i. letbetter - virtue of silence

In silence we hear the whispers of wisdom

Among the list of people whom I can no longer find, and may well be deceased, is an associate professor of music by the name of Robert Woods. Dr. Woods was a rather unassuming individual from my student perspective, but in January of 1982, while teaching a course in electronic music, he taught us a very valuable lesson about the importance of silence. His assignment sounded simple enough: find a place with absolute silence, and see how long you can stand it. Being cocky college students, we laughed. It was J-term and the campus was more than half empty. Finding a quiet spot would be easy.

But Dr. Woods didn’t say find a quiet spot. His instructions were to find a place absolutely void of sound and when class convened the next day we shared our stories of just how difficult it had been to complete the assignment. So difficult, in fact, that I was the only one who had actually found a place of complete silence: the morgue.

I worked part time in a funeral home. After everyone else had left for the evening, I went into the empty embalming room, which was totally sealed, and shut the door. The experience might have been eery had I not been accustomed to being in the room. There was nothing in there that would make a sound without human intervention, or so I thought. As I settled in on a stool, I soon realized that the fluorescent bulbs were humming. One wouldn’t have noticed under normal conditions, but when all other distractions were removed, there it was: a low but distinct hum. There was only one thing to do: turn off the lights.

Yes, sitting along in a sealed embalming room in the dark is eery. Worse than the dark, though, was the complete silence. Not a sound. I not only could hear my own breathing, but my heart beat sounded louder the longer I sat there. I’d shift my weight on the stool and the shuffle of my slacks against the metal was loud. I cracked my knuckles and it sounded like fireworks. With its ceramic tile floor and walls, the acoustics of the room amplified any sound, but the only sound was that of me, being alive. I stayed for what felt like an eternity then felt my way along the wall back to the door. I had been in the room a mere four minutes.

Dr. Woods’ point had been that silence is a necessary part of music and he wanted us to experience silence so we would appreciate the presence of rests amidst a flurry of sound. Music, he explained, finds its life not in the cacophony of notes and sounds as we might layer them together, but in those brief moments of silence, the rests, especially when unexpected, that allow us to catch our breath.

I can’t say I learned a great deal from the remainder of that class. Electronic music was still finding its roots and our resources, which had been borrowed, were painfully limited. Dr. Woods soon left for a teaching position at a university that appreciated his forward thinking and we went on to do other things that had no relationship to our degrees. What stuck, though, was that very important lesson in the virtue of silence.

Life since that moment in 1982 has only gotten increasingly louder. The reason I get up at 4:00 AM every morning to write these articles is because, in relative silence I can think, put words in order, consider what phrasing best communicates an idea, and pull together stories that are, hopefully, worth reading. Outside this morning, the wind is literally howling and the heater is struggling to keep our house warm, but in the absence of children laughing, music playing, or the whole world trying to talk at the same time, there is a peacefulness that gives life amidst the cacophony.

One of the reasons I so dislike presidential election years is the amount of overwhelming noise they generate. Every candidate, especially at this point of the approaching primaries, is shouting as loud as they can, trying to shove their message through the eye of the needle that is our attention span. Add to that all the sports, not just the impending Super Bowl, but all the cricket and the soccer and the basketball going on around the world. There are ads, and movies, and trailers, and … I think someone has a field trip today but I don’t remember which child. Then, there’s laundry and dishes and I suppose I should plan something for dinner because people do need to eat every once in a while. Pictures to schedule and take and edit. Conversations about books and an upcoming deadline and no I’ve not even started that outline. Did I remember to order underwear? I hope so, because I don’t have time to go out and buy more. Rumors that Sarah Burton is leaving Alexander McQueen and going to Dior, are they true? Men’s fashion in Paris, then couture, then, SHOWTIME, a month of ready-to-wear. And …

So. Much. Noise.

Learning the virtuosity of silence doesn’t happen by accident. Too many people ignore the rest signs. We need those quiet places; in our lives, in our thoughts, in our schedules, in our creativity. We  need space to take a breath so that we don’t choke on our own lifelong diatribes.

May you find that moment, if not now, soon, where you can experience the virtue of silence. May you find Peace. And thank you, Dr. Woods, wherever you are.

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