In Human Parts. More on Medium.
‘Wisdom comes with age’ is not just an aphorism. Life experience is one of our greatest teachers. As we move through life, we accumulate wisdom about who we are, what’s really important, and how we can live productively and happily.
With this in mind, I recently polled about 100 people, all over the age of 50, for advice on making the most of life. I studied their comments, looking for the particular mental attitude or belief underlying each one. …
“Would you take a pill that removed your boredom forever?”
I almost said “yes.” Boredom is excruciating. Doing nothing — meditating, sunbathing, kicking down the cobblestones — is lovely. Boredom is an unscratchable itch layered on top of that glorious nothing. Who needs that?
I almost said “yes,” but I know the trickery of thought experiments. I hedged: “Yes, if it doesn’t change anything else about my life.”
“Oh, but that’s the point. What do you think it would change?”
Last summer, I wanted to paint this gorgeous view:
As usual before starting a landscape, I tallied the things I…
We hear it incessantly: We’re living in unprecedented times. Something we hear just as often but talk about a lot less is this: We’re all under constant pressure to use this unprecedented time. Everyone, it seems, has been taking up hobbies, baking banana bread, nurturing houseplants and sourdough starters, developing and fine-tuning complex skin care routines. Time is a gift, and who are we to waste it?
By all accounts, this past year should’ve been a boom time for creatives. While we were once expected to pick out outfits and commute and dine in restaurants and attend friends’ gigs and…
I stared out the window as we passed the train station: Commuters, all men, with their overcoats, suits, and briefcases, like a herd of clones, stood on the platform, waiting for the train to New York. I thought, “Not for me. There’s got to be more to life than this. I’ll be blazing my own trail.” It was the 1960s, and my dad was driving teenage me to high school.
That was my first moment of spiritual awakening. …
My brother Kevin had a baby, a beautiful little girl who cries, stress vomits, and has too much gas. I never thought I’d have so much in common with a baby. My brother was prepared for her arrival. He’d been prepared years in advance: wife, house, car, job, money, pets, crib. The last time my girlfriend’s period was late, my life flashed before my eyes like a freight train barreling down on a toothpick castle.
I am a stick person. Kevin is a carrot person. He sees a reward, prepares, does the work, gets it. I see a temptation, run…
Waning gibbous: the moon phase between full moon and third-quarter moon. A diminishment of light.
The worst part of perimenopause is the rage.
It starts as a slight edge, a bite that creeps into my voice. An irritated tone, a generalized impatience with my kids. I check the app on my phone with the little pink flower on it. Sure enough, it’s somewhere between 10 and 12 days until my next period is due.
I trade jokey texts with friends about my desire to build a PMS pod. A modern-day version of the red tent — where hormonal women can…
I’ve hated my mother since I was five years old. Okay, maybe hate is a strong word, but the dislike I have for the woman who gave birth to me is pretty strong, too. Over the past 15 years of my career, I’ve written about my relationship with my mother and the lack thereof, and the question I receive more often than any other is, “How is your relationship with your mother now?” …
Well, well, well. Here we are, in the throes of a pandemic with no end in sight, surrounded by a million reasons to hate life—job loss, homelessness, illness, fear and anxiety, stress, stress, and more stress. Many of us are being put through the wringer right now as we try to juggle working from home with homeschooling kids, “occasional” day drinking, and a desperate need for personal time and self-care. Looking around, many of us can probably name 10 things to hate right now.
As an eternal optimist, however, I like to look at the other side of pessimistic coins…
The sirens woke me up, but it was the flashing lights piercing the curtains and bouncing off the walls like angry red-and-blue strobe lights that got me out of bed. I pulled on some jeans, padded downstairs, and stepped into the thick, humid South Florida nighttime air.
There were half a dozen police cars with doors open parked all over the place. Most of the cops were gathered around the house across from mine. A few locals stood around, looking sleepy.
“What happened?”
“Someone sprayed that place with a machine gun.”
This was Miami in the 1980s. Pablo Escobar’s cocaine…
There’s a lot to disagree about these days: politics, shutdowns, masks, travel restrictions, vaccines—you name it. And then there are the more mundane disagreements in everyday life, the little things, like setting the thermostat.
Someone wants to turn it down. You want it up. Someone says, “It’s too hot in here.” You say, “It’s not hot. It’s cold.” Before you know it, you’re in a silly argument. None of us need more aggravation, especially right now.
In order to express yourself respectfully and defuse arguments before they start, it’s important to understand the difference between facts, opinions, and toxic opinions.
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