Two of my favorite books, All The Light We Cannot See and The Unbearable Lightness of Being have light in their titles. I can still remember all the words to my favorite song, This Little Little of Mine from church when I was a little kid. All ruminate on the need to see, feel, act and share light.
These reminders are in contrast to our lives, which can often feel heavy or even dark.
I, like perhaps others, have often approached the long Labor Day weekend as an opportunity to catch up on things we didn’t get to over the summer or to prepare for the fall. We sprinkle in a barbecue, beer or ball game around the hours of time spent doing yard work, cleaning out the garage or putting kids events in our calendars.
With no specific intent or planning, I took a different approach this year. There were no to do lists, or big plans. No desire to do anything work-related or what most would call “productive.” For the most part, I just hung around floating from hour to hour, being present when my family was around, and doing whatever moved me when they weren’t. I read some poetry for the first time in forever. Drove to the local waterfront to see the sunset and people watch – as they similarly acted in complete lightness; a dad playing catch with his daughter, a couple laying on a blanket, each reading their respective books in silence.
Looking back I assume that my approach was driven by a desire to hold on to and enjoy the last days of summer – particularly important as our children get older with one who goes off to college next year. I resisted feeling bad about not getting anything done. Tamping down the inner thoughts that would label me as lazy. Looking back, I can hardly remember what I did, but clearly recall how I felt – so incredibly light.
In class this week, I asked my college students how many had to-do lists.” They all did. By comparison only three kept a journal. I thought back to middle school, when my own children were given their first school issued “daily planners” and wondered how their approach to learning might be different if instead they were given journals. Rather than finding relief in the “accomplishment” of crossing something off of their growing list, they would instead offer daily reflections on what they found fascinating or fun or how a subject moved them to think. One tool presumably helps them organize their days, the other helps them understand them. To me, one feels as if it makes life heavy, the other light. One is about doing. The other about being. One, we track what we do for others. The other we do for just for ourselves.
The world can feel weighty when we carry so much from place to place or task to task. It is lighter when we approach each moment for what it is – the only moment that will ever exist at that time.
Whether we want to or not, we spread what we feel. Feel lightness, spread lightness. Feeling heavy, we end up putting that weight on others as well (which can be helpful as those we love are willing to share our burdens or lighten our loads.)
I am not trying to dismiss or ignore the very real struggles, challenges, anxieties we all feel. They all need to be acknowledged, addressed and hopefully resolved. Yet as a culture we seem to be going down a road that is increasingly dark, carrying heavier burdens each step of the way, staring down endlessly growing lists of things that we or someone should or could do. Occasionally rewarding ourselves with an hour here and there. Maybe a vacation or two each year.
Going back to the books noted above. The Unbearable Lightness of Beingis, as one reviewer said, about “the constant tension between lightness and weight in our existence.” It lays out the conundrum of living in a world where we care so deeply about so much. All the Light We Cannot See, which is about finding beauty in the midst of unspeakable tragedy, offers perhaps an answer in the form of the question: “So how, children, does the brain, which lives without a spark of light, build for us a world full of light?”
Light and dark is a question of what our mind chooses to see or imagine. Light or heavy, what we choose to carry.
Let there be light in your days.
Recommendation of the Week. I love listening to people talk about their lives and their journeys. Whether or not you know Ethan Hawke or like his work, I think you’ll find this interview with him so completely honest and revealing. It offers a tremendous opportunity for the listener to reflect on art, how we spend our time and what motivates us. It is perhaps one of the best interviews I have ever heard. Hats off to the host Sam Fragaso for sharing such a valuable conversation.
Share some light – either in the form of this email or just a kind note or call- with someone who could use it.