Love and let go

My Dad was a dyed-in-the-wool Republican. As far as I know he voted only once for a Democrat back in the day when he was involved with a group that helped elect a Democratic governor in Oregon.

Dad and I didn’t see eye to eye on politics. Pops was an old-school conservative who fervently believed in smaller government and lower taxes. While I have never opposed those concepts in theory, I have always felt that in reality, such a viewpoint is far too simplistic and narrow.

Like Dad, I’ve always held strong opinions on politics (and everything else!) but not in a dualistic, two party sense. I’m fiercely independent and generally more of a third party kind of guy. I believe that ‘either-or’ is broken and has been for some time.

I’m not anti government or anti business. I believe both should be held accountable from the influence of money and abuses of power. I believe that freedom is not the absence of laws but the presence of fair laws. I believe that liberty is not synonymous with “doing what I want, whenever I want.” By my definition, freedom means equality, period.

But enough about my opinions - Everyone has them and is entitled to one. Back to my Dad.

Pops thought my political opinions were naïve and told me so when we argued the subject. Several years ago when I was having lunch at a restaurant with my parents in Portland, the topic of illegal immigration came up. In standard fashion, Dad reiterated the conservative ‘rule of law’ talking point. “There’s a right way to immigrate and if you break the law, you’re a criminal,” he would say.

I have a more nuanced opinion. I responded to Pop’s rant with a comment to the effect of “Dad you can build a 100 foot wall and it won’t keep people out of this country. As long as there’s more opportunity here then there, immigrants (legal or otherwise) will find a way around, under, or over that wall. You would do the same thing for your family if you were them. The issue isn’t the legality here, its helping raise the standard of living there.”

My Father responded with the typical “don’t be so naïve” comment and voices were raised in a heated back and forth exchange. Dad ended storming out of the restaurant and going home, leaving my Mother and me sitting at the table stunned and speechless. Incidentally Dad always insisted on picking up the check at meals and this is one of the few times I was stuck with the bill. Well-played Pop!

Dad and I made up on the phone later that afternoon and I quietly resolved to myself that we should just stick to sports and father-son stuff and avoid the topic of politics in the future. We pretty much did, but at times he just couldn’t help himself from yelling at the TV news and his political rants. Whenever he did, I would mostly tune it out, interject a little humor, or change the subject.

But then something changed. Dad started slowing down. As he approached his mid-seventies, he developed a host of health issues. I used to joke that if they had a medical punch card, his next procedure would be free. Facing a declining health and his mortality brought out a kinder and gentler version of my Dad. With Mom’s encouragement Pop started watching less cable news. He still shook his fist occasionally, but his roar became softer and his rants less frequent. He sent fewer political emails and miraculously, he even swore less.

He started praying more and joined a men’s bible study group. He frequently called old friends to check on them. He made new friends and when he was out and about, he always asked others about their lives. Dad gave back in his community and helped start a trust for disadvantaged kids at a local Christian school. He still held strong opinions but instead of retreating in to his own ego, he opened up his heart.

In all transparency, I’m sure most of Dad’s friends and neighbors were like-minded politically and philosophically. It’s natural to hang with those that share your views. But as a lifelong advertising executive, I am sure at some level Dad also knew the dangers of groupthink in an echo chamber. Dad knew deep down, you have to step back from the noise to see clearly. Ultimately it requires global contemplation and local action to really make a difference.

Like anyone my father had his flaws and was far from perfect. But if I learned one absolute thing from my Dad that supersedes any other thing it’s that love matters more. For all of his legendary profanity-laced tirades, when it mattered most, he was able to love and forgive with the best of them. As I wrote about a while back, he even loved and forgave my Grandfather after he left my Grandmother (who was dying of cancer at the time) for another woman. Whether it was the transgressions of his own father, the actions of those that were his adversaries in business, or the opinions of those that disagreed with him, Dad lived by loving and letting go.

Blood runs thick and many learn to love and let go when it comes to their own families. But what we need now more than ever is to love and let go where it comes to those in our community and country that seem completely opposed to our position. That neighbor with the Trump sign in his yard? Yeah, that guy - love him and let go of the need to justify your own opinion. That uber-liberal, socialist college professor? Yeah, her too. That drug-addicted homeless person, the right wing militia people, your racist uncle? Yes. All of them. Love and let go.

Dad and I probably wouldn’t agree much on the current state of political affairs, but there’s at least one issue on which I am certain we would agree. The most important thing isn’t what I think or how I vote. The most important thing is to let go of the need to be right and love my neighbor.

Falling into Place

“When we learn to fall, we learn that only by letting go our grip on all that we ordinarily find most precious—our achievements, our plans, our loved ones, our very selves—can we find, ultimately, the most profound freedom. In the act of letting go of our lives, we return more fully to them." — Philip Simmons

When I was a kid I loved the New York Yankees with all of my heart. My Dad, a New Yorker by birth, brought my brother and me to games while visiting family back east, and in seeing the “House that Ruth built,” it was love at first sight for me. The aura, the tradition, the pinstripes, Babe Ruth and Don Mattingly - what’s not to like about the Bronx Bombers?! The Yankees were perfection and I was going to be their future second baseman. At least that was my plan when I was seven.

At that point, I was enrolled in art class at the Portland Art Museum for the summer, but in seeing the kids out on the local baseball field, I was adamant that my mom let me quit art class and allow me to sign up for little league baseball. She reluctantly agreed. I wasn’t a terrible second baseman, but by the time I was 12 it was pretty clear that Yankee pinstripes weren’t in my future.

In high school and college I was determined to become a successful advertising executive like my father. I studied business, got my marketing degree and even had my own briefcase, just like Dad. And after finishing school, I was a pretty decent ad man and the money was good, but it didn’t feed my soul, so I kept searching.

I left traditional advertising for new media and after a failed ‘Dot-Com’ start up venture in my late twenties, I decided it was high time to figure out what I really wanted to do with my life. After months of soul searching, I landed on acting. I had been an enthusiastic actor in high school and I seemed to have a knack for entertaining others. “Broadway here I come!” I thought to myself. After landing a couple leading roles in local plays, I applied to some of the top Masters programs in the country for acting - Yale, Cal Arts and a few others. But despite my enthusiasm, I didn’t get in to any of them. Still, I persisted with acting, grinding out local theater and independent film productions in Seattle. While I loved the creative process, as the years passed, I also realized that life as a starving artist wasn’t in the long-term cards for me. 

Along the way, I had picked up a job as a personal trainer to feed my acting habit. As someone who was passionate about exercise and a fairly adept communicator, I did well in fitness. I enjoyed coaching and made a decent living, but the job was physically taxing and I felt trapped by the glass ceiling of monetizing hours in the day.

Then the idea occurred to me that instead of chasing passion and purpose, I should settle for stability. I had befriended someone who was a police officer and he made a good living, raked in lots of overtime pay and enjoyed one of the few careers that still provides a guaranteed retirement. Though law enforcement wasn’t really in my creative, free thinking wheelhouse, I liked the idea of helping others and helping myself with a ‘stable’ career. The only problem was, I didn’t get in to the police departments I applied to. Whether the cops didn’t like my critical thought process and ‘question authority’ disposition or I had partied too hard in college, I’ll never know. But at the end of the process, it was clear - I wasn’t going to be a cop.

I stuck with fitness and decided that I would change the world through my natural ability as a personality. I auditioned for and was selected to be an on-camera trainer in a nationally televised series for MTV. Surely this was my big break and I was destined for speaking engagements, on camera work, and life as a celebrity trainer. But it didn’t turn out that way. The show flopped after one season and no one called me to become the next Jack Lalanne or Jillian Michaels.

I decided a change of scenery was necessary. Colorado is a fitness mecca and the vitamin D suited me well. I started blogging and writing and with my creative background, storytelling seemed to flow naturally. I began publishing regularly for fitness magazines and websites. Surely a book deal was right around the corner...But the reality was, writing provided even less income and stability than acting. Back to square one.

As I approached middle age, the prospect of not having a stable and successful career track seemed utterly terrifying. In many ways it still scares the hell out of me. But instead of planning to be the next Derek Jeter, Brad Pitt, or Mickey Spillane, I’ve decided to just be Eric. Instead of trying to figure out my next step, I’ve decided to simply concentrate on trying to live my current step.

I’ve realized, as the quote from Phillip Simmons says, that in order to truly discover my authentic path, I must be willing to let go, stumble and fall…a lot. To that end, I seem to be making progress! Besides, as someone who thought that I had all the answers along the way, not knowing can actually be somewhat liberating. Having a passion and a plan is great, but I’ve also learned through the years that falling and failing is ultimately the only way we truly learn and grow.

Still, the tape in my head continues to play on auto repeat. “What if I’m not that special or talented? What if I never get rich? What if I don’t ever reach that mountaintop? What if I never figure out what I’m supposed to be when I grow up?” These dilemmas have kept me up at many a night. 

But falling and failing has taught me two things: I will get back up and I will keep going. Furthermore, it is life’s failures that forge our character and give us meaning. 

My brother had the world by the balls before a massive medical issue at 30 changed his career, personal life and lifestyle. While he had to let go of his hobbies as an avid rock climber and motorcycle enthusiast and ended up leaving a high-income job, he said hello to a lifelong commitment to his wife and his faith. As my brother learned, cool motorcycles, nice houses and fancy vacations are great, but they aren’t the meaning of life. Nor is a decorative title or a ‘successful’ career.

I’ve realized, just like my brother, that what is really important is loving my wife, family and those close to me. What’s important is contributing to my community and deepening my relationship with the Divine. That is the meaning of life.

I’m now in yet another new career in hospitality. I like helping others and hope to help build a brand at some point in wellness fused with hospitality. But by now, I’ve learned enough to know that plans change and in the meantime, life happens. Instead of planning for future success, I’m now trying more so to listen in the present.

Falling (and failing) has been a mixed blessing in my life. Sometimes it’s tempting to feel sorry for myself for not having reached the pinnacle of what society deems as success. But life doesn’t work that way. There is no mountaintop, only climbing and falling. On the journey, if we’re lucky, we live and learn and fall in love. To that end I am super fortunate to have lived, learned and loved. I’m still not sure what I want to be when I grow up, but I know I’ll keep trying, failing and getting back up along the way.

Learning to Fail

One of the more poignant moments I can remember in recent years is getting the crap beat out of me shortly after one of my biggest life failures. Just weeks after signing my divorce papers in 2012, I had to endure a few rounds of hard sparring at a martial arts testing and I got pummeled. Already bloodied and bruised, in the third round I was kicked so hard in the ribs that I doubled over and took a knee. In order to pass my test, I had to make it through all three rounds - I was literally saved by the bell.

In a twisted way, it was actually sort of cathartic to have my body feel the way my heart did – battered and broken. While getting beaten up isn’t something I’d necessarily recommend, I can also tell you that failure is almost a certainty in life and learning to cope with pain is a critical part of progression in anything.

Yet culturally, everything and everyone seems to be telling you the opposite – that success happens by finding your bliss and seeking pleasure. The quick fix is everywhere you look. Get rich quick seminars, crash diets, and fad exercise programs tell you the news your brain loves to hear – that there’s a convenient solution and a comfortable change - it just takes hard work and the right program.

But what if it wasn’t about the program, the right timing, or even how hard you worked? What if advancement was simply about the willingness to face the pain and the certainty of failure.

If I’ve learned anything, I’ve learned that I may or may not reach my goals, dreams, and aspirations, but I will most definitely fail while trying. The silver lining is that failure brings with it the opportunity to find authenticity and wholeness through introspective work and forgiveness. While more life lessons are surely on their way through my next mess up, here’s what I have learned so far:

o   Ego can take you to the depths of hell. In every major failure I’ve had, ego was in the driver’s seat. You are not your body, your job, or even your relationships, but you become the thoughts you give power to. Ego says you are defined by quantities, while your true self is defined by qualities.

You may lose your job, but you haven’t lost the qualities that got you that job. You may lose your relationship, but you haven’t lost the opportunity to love with your whole heart. Next time your ego tells you that you are defined by what you have, remind yourself that in the end, you will be remembered by your qualities.

o   Honesty isn’t your best policy, humility is. Your failure is an opportunity to perfect your virtue which is simply the opposite of your vice. My vice is pride. When others wrong me, I cast them aside and never, ever turn back. Puffing my chest up may be my default, but when I am at my best, humility governs my thoughts and actions. The problem is that when we fail, we often look for something or someone to blame, even if it’s us. In doing so we can lash out to those who have wronged us, and frequently, that lashing out is self-directed. Here’s the thing though – playing the blame game ultimately proves nothing. What matters is the humility to face the wreckage and move on.

o   Quitting is sometimes your best option. Anyone who’s ever been divorced can attest to the utter devastation associated with such a separation. You don’t get married before friends, family, and God to see it fail miserably. Compounding the effects of a trauma like a divorce are the prospects of acute pain, loneliness, and the loss of companionship. But if love, justice, and truth are worth fighting for, abuse and hatred are worth leaving behind. Leaving a relationship, job, or bad habit is sometimes our best option as something built on a false foundation isn’t worth salvaging, it’s worth tearing down and starting over on the right footing. 

o   Victims don’t heal. One thing I have seen over and over again in my in life both personally and professionally is that no one ever makes a lasting change that they don’t genuinely want to make. People make changes when they’ve had enough and their back is against the wall.

It sucks to get downsized. It sucks to get hurt or heartbroken. It sucks to get sick. It sucks when your genetics aren’t perfect. A lot of life’s setbacks aren’t our fault. It wasn’t your fault that your parents were lousy role models or your boss is an asshole. But it is your fault that you hold on to your pain, anger, and self-justification. True freedom can only come about by releasing negativity and allowing wounds to heal though the natural order of time and forgiveness. The statute of limitations is now – you aren’t a victim, you have the power of choice.

o   You must face the pain. Sometimes you’re going to get your ass kicked and it’s going to hurt - maybe even worse than you think. It’s tempting to run the other way. But the great irony of the things that mask our pain (booze, sex, food, etc.) is that these temporary reprieves only prolong and compound the inevitable pain. One of the best ways to cope with pain is to find support. If your body hurts, treat it gently and get a massage. If your heart hurts, join a support group and seek those who can understand your plight. If your mind hurts, force yourself to sit with your thoughts until they pass.

More than anything though, we have to face the hurt and the trauma. Peace is only found on the other side of it. There’s no way around the storms of life – our job is to face the pain and release its grip by swimming with the current.

Learning to fail isn’t something covered in school. There are no participation trophies in the game of life. We’ll have many wins if we’re fortunate and few failures if we’re lucky. But failure is going to happen and regardless of circumstance, the work is clear – peace of mind and character are forged with finding the resolve to face the mess and the courage to clean it up.