We can’t control everything that happens to us.  We might encounter unexpected health problems (such as my two surgeries earlier this year), the death of a loved one (my dad last May), or the dissolution of a close relationship (for me, early in 2018).  

We can, however, control our reaction to what happens.  I choose to respond with thanks and optimism, especially to a continuing problem or great disappointment.  I’m not saying that a positive response is always easy.  It’s not.  I strongly believe, however, that a positive response is always possible, and that it becomes easier with practice.  As Nietzsche wrote in 1888, “What does not kill me makes me stronger.”

My health has always been excellent. Until I was seventy-nine I’d only had one major surgery and that was an appendectomy when I was fourteen.  Then, unexpectedly, earlier this year I had two spinal surgeries. I’ve been told that my recovery will take at least a year, maybe longer, and might never be complete.  So what are the positives?

1. I’m closer to my family.
2. I better appreciate the value of working.  While I’m at my desk I’m unaware of my physical problems because I’m focused on my work.
3. My physical health will end up better than ever because, for the first time in my life, I’m exercising every day — even when I don’t have an appointment with my physical therapist or personal trainer. 
4. During the past few weeks my mood has improved, probably because of my exercise.
5. I’ve met two friends who have recently had similar surgeries. Although they’re younger than I am I’m encouraged because I think I’m recovering better than they are.

I’m at peace with the loss of my dad because we saw each other often and our meetings were always positive. I’ll give him a lot of credit for that.  I remember the important lessons he taught me, as well as all of the travel and other wonderful experiences we enjoyed together for almost eighty years.

As for relationships, I still remember a statement from the Harry Browne book “How I Found Freedom in an Unfree World.”  To paraphrase, he wrote, “Every time I’ve left a relationship my next relationship has been better.”

I’ve followed Browne’s advice, and it has usually worked for me.  After all, the most important relationship is always my current relationship, and that is going extremely well.  Could it be that my wife and I have each learned a lot and we’re better at getting along with each other than we were twenty years ago?

Health problems, deaths, and breakups can throw any of us off temporarily, but perpetual suffering is optional.

Alan

Years ago I studied with a psychiatrist who suggested that whenever we part from someone we love we should be complete. If we never see them again we will have said everything we needed to say, and heard everything we needed to hear.  Dad, I think you and I did that quite well with each other.

You died unexpectedly, a few days after each of us had been released from different hospitals. I had been in and out of the hospital for almost two months. The last time we saw each other we parted, as we always did, with a mutual “I love you.”

I know you were proud of me because you told me often. I know you said the same thing to many others.  Approval is important to every child, and I thank you for yours. I have done my best to carry your gift forward into the world – often telling my children, your grandchildren, that I love them and I’m proud of them. 

I don’t remember ever specifically telling you how grateful I am for all of the many life lessons you taught me, so I’d like to mention some of them now.

1. Treat everyone, no matter who they are, with respect.  I apply that lesson every day.
2. Plan for the future.  I know you grew up during the Great Depression, and when you were young you were concerned with saving enough money for the future.  I’m also a saver, and I think we both did a good job with that.
3. Work hard.  When you were a teenager you practiced the French Horn for three hours a day after school, and six hours a day when school was not in session.  That’s why you successfully auditioned for the position of First Horn with the Washington, D.C. Philharmonic Orchestra when you were eighteen, and the same position with the Minneapolis Philharmonic when you were nineteen.  I may have been a bit behind you, but I’ve certainly worked diligently ever since I started my own business at the age of twenty-seven.
4. Discuss problems openly and calmly with your family.  I’m grateful that when I was very young you started a “Family Conference.”  Whenever any of us had a problem with another family member you called a “Family Conference” in which we each could talk as long as we needed, without interruption.  We solved many problems that way. My eight-year-old self thanks you for the respect and my adult self thanks you for modeling that open communication.
5. Do what you love.  You encouraged me to become a CPA, and also to pursue my writing.

Dad, there is so much more, but I think I’ve hit some of the high points.

I hope you’re happy wherever you are now. I want you to know that every day I remember you and appreciate your wisdom and your confidence in me.

Thank you.

Love, Alan

I wish I had written that line myself, but it has already been attributed to Marcel Proust.  Regardless, it resonates with me.

Each of us is attracted to pleasure.  We enjoy connecting with friends, eating our favorite meals, or spending time with family. We return to those activities that bring us pleasure such as camping, watching a movie, playing chess, or arguing in court.

But if we suddenly experience excruciating pain while relishing our favorite dinner, we will either call 911, or immediately leave for the nearest hospital emergency room. We will suspend “listening” to pleasure in order to “obey” pain.  This makes sense to me.

The life lesson I draw from this idea is:  continue to find more pleasure in my own life.

One pleasure-step I have taken is to practice “talking” to myself in a constructive way.  When I have an experience I don’t enjoy, I tell myself I have learned a useful lesson – and that I can apply that lesson to bring more fun to my life in the future.  In other words, I think positively.  After all, who talks to you more than anyone else?  You do.

If I don’t enjoy dinner at a new restaurant, as we’re leaving I tell my wife, “I’ve enjoyed both meals here.  My first and my last.”  She always laughs.  Humor brings us a lot of shared pleasure.

When I was fourteen years old, I came home from school with a pain in my abdomen.  That evening my parents called the doctor.  As a result, my dad drove me straight to the hospital where, that night, my appendix was removed.  The following week was quite painful, but even at that early age I said to myself, “This is great.  I’m going to remember this horrible pain for the rest of my life so I will better appreciate the pleasure that comes from the absence of pain.”

I am always seeking to expand my pleasure repertoire.  I often remind myself to enjoy the simple acts of breathing, or writing, or taking a walk.  Pleasure is always created in your own mind.

I recently visited the Mt. Wilson Observatory (which was the home of the largest telescope in the world back when I was born).  An astronomer there told me that, for sure, our sun will go nova in 4.5 billion years, and will engulf the earth. 

I’m not going to worry about what might happen in 4.5 billion years, or even what might happen tomorrow.  I am going to listen, as closely as I can, to all of the pleasure I experience today – including the writing of this blog.

Cheers!

Alan