I was in a library once looking through a coffee table book about Los Angeles and stumbled on a picture of myself as a young teen painting a fire hydrant. I had no idea the picture had been taken and would show up years later in a book. It happened again when I was looking through a current catalog for my law school. There I was in a picture chatting with some friends in the dining area back when I had been a student. And again, in online materials for my MFA program, this time listening reasonably attentively to a lecture. Each time, I had no idea the pictures had been taken and would someday be out in the world, linking me to that place and time. What a strange feeling.

These days, though, that could happen to any of us at pretty much any time. Cameras are everywhere. It’s possible a picture of you could be captured doing who knows what. Thankfully, the pictures of me were innocuous, but imagine being in a picture like this

Or this

Or this

Your pain or hatred or suffering there preserved and public, forever. Bryan Stephenson, an advocate for those on death row cautions us to remember that we are each more than the worst thing we ever did. We are each complex:

Each of us is more than the worst thing we’ve ever done. My work with the poor and the incarcerated has persuaded me that the opposite of poverty is not wealth; the opposite of poverty is justice. Finally, I’ve come to believe that the true measure of our commitment to justice, the character of our society, our commitment to the rule of law, fairness, and equality cannot be measured by how we treat the rich, the powerful, the privileged, and the respected among us. The true measure of our character is how we treat the poor, the disfavored, the accused, the incarcerated, and the condemned.
We are all implicated when we allow other people to be mistreated. An absence of compassion can corrupt the decency of a community, a state, a nation. Fear and anger can make us vindictive and abusive, unjust and unfair, until we all suffer from the absence of mercy and we condemn ourselves as much as we victimize others. . . we all need mercy, we all need justice, and – perhaps – we all need some measure of unmerited grace.”

― Bryan Stevenson

In this world of prolific photos and snap judgments, we need to keep reminding ourselves that life is complex, and we each ‘need some measure of unmerited grace’.

As we age, there is loss. That loss is like a presence that follows us relentlessly like a shadow. No avoiding it. No pretending. We are mortal. The people we love are mortal, perhaps imminently so. This is part of the rules of engagement. And while most of us avoid thinking too much about it, poets like Mary Oliver offer life instructions:

To live in this world, you must be able to do three things:

To love what is mortal

To hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it;

And, when the time comes, to let it go, to let it go.

I honestly don’t know which of these three rules is the hardest. Right now, they each seem nearly impossible. But having the courage to follow these instructions feels like the answer. 

Her full poem is below. 

Look, the trees
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars

of light,
are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfillment,

the long tapers
of cattails
are bursting and floating away over
the blue shoulders

of the ponds,
and every pond,
no matter what its
name is, is

nameless now.
Every year
everything
I have ever learned

in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side

is salvation,
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world

you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it

against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.“In Blackwater Woods” by Mary Oliver, from American Primitive. © Back Bay Books, 1983.

Tomorrow is such a complex word. On one hand, it is reassuring that there is always a tomorrow, a fresh start, a day to begin anew. But, on the other hand, the concept of tomorrow can be beguiling and seductive and keep us from starting what can be done right now today.

What is it you would like to start or do that may, frankly, take a while? What have you been putting off, perhaps for an endless cascade of tomorrows? Those tomorrows are now yesterdays.

Today is as good a day as any to plunge in and begin.

Have you ever heard of Sybil Ludington?

How about Paul Revere?

In 1777, 16 year-old Sybil rode 40 miles (twice the distance of Revere’s ride) through the raining night to warn the Colonial militia of the advancing British army. She was thanked personally by George Washington for her service and bravery and yet few now know her name.

What’s most important in a war, of course, is who wins, and battlefields are littered with fallen soldiers, some remembered, most forgotten. Behind the scenes are countless more. Some heroic, some cowardly. Some remembered, most forgotten.

Fame is ephemeral. It doesn’t attach itself only to heroes or the deserving. If you chase it, you may well find yourself doing the wrong things for the wrong reasons. And, even then, if you do the things that you think will make you famous, fame could well elude you.

Character, on the other hand, is everything. Doing the right thing regardless of whether you will be remembered for it or get credit always wins. Again, your actions may go unnoticed or unappreciated, but that doesn’t change the inquiry. Doing the right thing is its own reward.

What is the right thing in these morally ambiguous and complicated times? Faith, hope, and love remain. And the greatest is love.

Do the loving thing. Spread light, not darkness. Work for peace, not division. Let your words and actions be gentle and true.

Love each other.

Everything falls apart. Cars, buildings, peace, relationships, houses. That’s not pessimism; it’s entropy. In our quest for more, better, and brighter stuff, sometimes we forget about the energy that goes into maintaining the things we already have. In our dogged courtship and pursuit of a loved one, sometimes we forget the importance of maintaining the close relationship after we’ve sealed the deal. After reading all the books on childbirth, we sometimes forget the time and attention that goes into building a healthy relationship with a child, then teen, then adult.

If we neglect our things or relationships, they will suffer. But we don’t have to be content with this. With attention and care, anything will shine–even our most important relationships.

Take a self-exam. Consider where you put your time and energy. Does anything in your life need a tune-up?