"Hope is the thing with feathers that perches the soul."
- Emily Dickinson
" Hope is the spark , love is the flame ."
- Anonymous
"Surrender to the present...to hope and being"
-Att: Dalai Llama
Inspiration and Presentation:
Thinking about Auld Lang Syne , the Jesuit exercise of The Examen
came to mind where one reflects on the previous day, month , season or year
and contemplate where the divine,
hope , love, selflessness , peace were present.
Was I mindful of the blessings?
Or was I too preoccupied with with myself ,
with world and its promises and attachments?
Did I get lost in the worries , trials - on and
on and on?
Did I hold hope for the future - for myself, my
family, friends and those in need
throughout the world?
With the sound of winter's mystical winds
causing the chimes to sing outside my
window...I stopped and wondered:
"What about now? What about tomorrow ?
What about next year?
Have I learned anything about myself , others,
or even the great mysteries of the universe?
Then came the hard part - in two pieces.
First, what can I do about this?
second, How do I write about it or should I
even try?
After a few vain attempts, I was ready to
abandon the whole idea. So I distracted
myself by catching up on neglected emails.
Absentmindedly , I casually clicked open the familiar NY Times
- where, to my surprise, I
found an essay essay on a topic strikingly similar to
what I had been contemplating . A deeper dive
led me to a commencement address by writer
George Saunders . I was stunned - stopped in
my tracks.
He said nearly everything I had been thinking
or feeling. Had I read this before?
His words were so eloquent, so perfectly
expressed, that I considered setting aside my
own reflections entirely . Outside, the chimes
began to ring louder and louder -shaken by
the cold breeze sweeping up across
Chesapeake Bay.
So below is Saunder's commencement
speech. I hope you find it as hope-filled and
inspiring as I did - affirming ,somehow, that
my spirit may be traveling in the right
direction.
( This is the first occasion after 17 years of this blog that I have
deferred and given the featured
narrative or poem to another. Maybe there is a lesson here?)
The Writing:
Down through the ages, a traditional form has evolved
for this type of speech, which is: Some old fart, his best
years behind him, who, over the course of his life, has
made a series of dreadful mistakes (that would be me),
gives heartfelt advice to a group of shining, energetic young
people, with all of their best years ahead of them (that would be you).
And I intend to respect that tradition.
Now, one useful thing you can do with an old person, in
addition to borrowing money from them, or asking them to do
one of their old-time “dances,” so you can watch, while laughing,
is ask: “Looking back, what do you regret?” And they’ll tell you.
Sometimes, as you know, they’ll tell you even if you haven’t asked.
Sometimes, even when you’ve specifically requested they
not tell you, they’ll tell you.
So: What do I regret? Being poor from time to time? Not really.
Working terrible jobs, like “knuckle-puller in a slaughterhouse?”
(And don’t even ASK what that entails.) No. I don’t regret that.
Skinny-dipping in a river in Sumatra, a little buzzed, and looking
up and seeing like 300 monkeys sitting on a pipeline, pooping down
into the river, the river in which I was swimming, with my mouth
open, naked? And getting deathly ill afterwards, and staying sick
for the next seven months? Not so much. Do I regret the occasional
humiliation? Like once, playing hockey in front of a big crowd,
including this girl I really liked, I somehow managed, while
falling and emitting this weird whooping noise, to score on my
own goalie, while also sending my stick flying into the crowd,
nearly hitting that girl? No. I don’t even regret that.
But here’s something I do regret:
In seventh grade, this new kid joined our class. In the interest of
confidentiality, her Convocation Speech name will be “ELLEN.” ELLEN
was small, shy. She wore these blue cat’s-eye glasses that, at the time,
only old ladies wore. When nervous, which was pretty much always,
she had a habit of taking a strand of hair into her mouth and
chewing on it.
So she came to our school and our neighborhood, and was mostly
ignored, occasionally teased (“Your hair taste good?” — that sort of thing).
I could see this hurt her. I still remember the way she’d look after such
an insult: eyes cast down, a little gut-kicked, as if, having just been
reminded of her place in things, she was trying, as much as possible,
to disappear. After awhile she’d drift away, hair-strand still in her
mouth. At home, I imagined, after school, her mother would say,
you know: “How was your day, sweetie?” and she’d say, “Oh, fine.”
And her mother would say, “Making any friends?” and she’d go, “Sure, lots.”
Sometimes I’d see her hanging around alone in her front yard, as
f afraid to leave it.
And then — they moved. That was it. No tragedy, no big final hazing.
One day she was there, next day she wasn’t.
End of story.
Now, why do I regret that? Why, forty-two years later, am I still
thinking about it? Relative to most of the other kids, I was actually
pretty nice to her. I never said an unkind word to her. In fact,
I sometimes even (mildly) defended her.
But still. It bothers me.
So here’s something I know to be true, although it’s a little corny,
and I don’t quite know what to do with it:
What I regret most in my life are failures of kindness.
Those moments when another human being was there, in front of me,
suffering, and I responded . . . sensibly. Reservedly. Mildly.
Or, to look at it from the other end of the telescope: Who, in your
life, do you remember most fondly, with the most undeniable feelings of warmth?
Those who were kindest to you, I bet.
It’s a little facile, maybe, and certainly hard to implement, but I’d say,
as a goal in life, you could do worse than: Try to be kinder.
Now, the million-dollar question: What’s our problem? Why aren’t we kinder?
Here’s what I think:
Each of us is born with a series of built-in confusions that are probably
somehow Darwinian. These are: (1) we’re central to the universe
(that is, our personal story is the main and most interesting story,
the only story, really); (2) we’re separate from the universe
(there’s US and then, out there, all that other junk –
dogs and swing-sets, and the State of Nebraska and
low-hanging clouds and, you know, other people), and
(3) we’re permanent (death is real, o.k., sure – for you, but not for me).
Now, we don’t really believe these things – intellectually we k
now better – but we believe them viscerally, and live by them,
and they cause us to prioritize our own needs over the needs
of others, even though what we really want, in our hearts,
is to be less selfish, more aware of what’s actually happening
in the present moment, more open, and more loving.
So, the second million-dollar question: How might we DO this?
How might we become more loving, more open, less selfish,
more present, less delusional, etc., etc?
Well, yes, good question.
Unfortunately, I only have three minutes left.
So let me just say this. There areways. You already know that
because, in your life, there have been High Kindness periods
and Low Kindness periods, and you know what inclined you
toward the former and away from the latter. Education is good;
immersing ourselves in a work of art: good; prayer is good;
meditation’s good; a frank talk with a dear friend; establishing
ourselves in some kind of spiritual tradition — recognizing that
there have been countless really smart people before us who have
asked these same questions and left behind answers for us.
Because kindness, it turns out, is hard — it starts out all rainbows
and puppy dogs, and expands to include . . . well, everything.
One thing in our favor: some of this “becoming kinder” happens
naturally, with age. It might be a simple matter of attrition: as we g
et older, we come to see how useless it is to be selfish — how illogical,
really. We come to love other people and are thereby counter-instructed
in our own centrality. We get our butts kicked by real life, and people
come to our defense, and help us, and we learn that we’re not separate,
and don’t want to be. We see people near and dear to us dropping
away, and are gradually convinced that maybe we too will drop away
(someday, a long time from now). Most people, as they age, become l
ess selfish and more loving. I think this is true. The great Syracuse poet,
Hayden Carruth, said, in a poem written near the end of his life,
that he was “mostly Love, now.”
And so, a prediction, and my heartfelt wish for you:
as you get older, your self will diminish and you will
grow in love. YOU will gradually be replaced by LOVE.
If you have kids, that will be a huge moment in your
process of self-diminishment. You really won’t care what
happens to YOU, as long as they benefit. That’s one reason
your parents are so proud and happy today. One of their
fondest dreams has come true: you have accomplished s
omething difficult and tangible that has enlarged you as a
person and will make your life better, from here on in, forever.
Congratulations, by the way.
When young, we’re anxious — understandably — to find out if
we’ve got what it takes. Can we succeed? Can we build a viable life
for ourselves? But you — in particular you, of this generation — may
have noticed a certain cyclical quality to ambition. You do well in
high-school, in hopes of getting into a good college, so you can do
well in the good college, in the hopes of getting a good job, so you can
do well in the good job so you can . . .
And this is actually O.K. If we’re going to become kinder, that process
has to include taking ourselves seriously — as doers, as accomplishers,
as dreamers. We have to do that, to be our best selves.
Still, accomplishment is unreliable. “Succeeding,” whatever that
might mean to you, is hard, and the need to do so constantly renews
itself (success is like a mountain that keeps growing ahead of you as
you hike it), and there’s the very real danger that “succeeding” will take
up your whole life, while the big questions go untended.
So, quick, end-of-speech advice: Since, according to me, your life is going
to be a gradual process of becoming kinder and more loving: Hurry up.
Speed it along. Start right now. There’s a confusion in each of us, a
sickness, really: selfishness. But there’s also a cure. So be a good
and proactive and even somewhat desperate patient on your own
behalf — seek out the most efficacious anti-selfishness medicines,
energetically, for the rest of your life.
Do all the other things, the ambitious things — travel, get rich, get
famous, innovate, lead, fall in love, make and lose fortunes, swim
naked in wild jungle rivers (after first having it tested for monkey poop)
– but as you do, to the extent that you can, err in the direction of kindness.
Do those things that incline you toward the big questions, and avoid the
things that would reduce you and make you trivial. That luminous part of
you that exists beyond personality — your soul, if you will — is as bright
and shining as any that has ever been. Bright as Shakespeare’s, bright as
Gandhi’s, bright as Mother Teresa’s. Clear away everything that keeps
you separate from this secret luminous place. Believe it exists, come to
know it better, nurture it, share its fruits tirelessly.
And someday, in 80 years, when you’re 100, and I’m 134, and we’re both
so kind and loving we’re nearly unbearable, drop me a line, let me know
how your life has been. I hope you will say: It has been so wonderful.
Congratulations, Class of 2013.
I wish you great happiness, all the luck in the world, and a
beautiful summer.
-------
Music and Poetry ( for your listening pleasure
and contemplation) - Something New:
This is a complete YouTube Playlist of songs and poetry .
You can listen one or more at one sitting without clicking
on each entry...or all in one sitting.
Second Chance Dance Playlist Songs and Poetry
January 1, 2026 -
For your listening pleasure and contemplation:
Click on the link below
Coda: Something further for your contemplation
Sit back sing along or reflect on the song...etc.
https://youtu.be/ZGWgthLT3ew?si=zwoRwOa_A7ZJfBDD
Whether you "believe" or not...this might be interesting:
* Research indicates that even with significant differences
the major religions and spiritual practices around the world
they share the following common perspectives and themes:
- Compassion and love - how we treat others
- promote human welfare and reduce suffering
- Practice loving kindness all ways
- All life ( existence) is connected.
- A good life is measured by your kindness to others
- Seek truth, wisdom and understanding
- Be grateful , present and aware of each moment
- There is a higher purpose in life than materialism
- Service to and care of others, be selfless ( especially those
who cannot help themselves)
"If this is well told and to the point, that is what I
desired; if it is
poorly done , it was the best I could do."
- 2 Maccabees 15:38-39
AMDG
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