Three in the morning

I don't know this person, but she's
going to be tired tomorrow.

It is Worth Mentioning that we will be different some day.

Think about that the next time you have "monkey mind," which is also known as three o'clock in the morning. 

Sometimes three in the morning is when you bolt upright, click on the light, reach for a pad and say, "I can't even stand my own brilliance right now." 

But sometimes, three in the morning is when your guilt and regret and self-doubt get together and party next to a poster of you on the wall.

I had a conversation with the man my daughter just married that I maybe liked as much as the man himself.

The backstory isn't important but it led to a discussion about regret, and whether regrets even make sense since they're just punishment for not knowing more than we possibly can at any given moment.  

I told him that when I'm having difficulty with someone who matters in my life, I imagine myself in the future remembering exactly the way I'm handling the situation in the present. I do this because I've learned that stubborn silences and refusals to bend and harsh remarks only make sense in the moment, which join with the other moments to become the past, which is where three in the morning holds those parties with the poster.

He said that this sounded noble, but that it isn't easy and sometimes it isn't possible, to set the present aside and stretch the imagination enough to assume future perspective.   

We were both right. 

Today, my elderly father is slowing down. Friends I've had for decades are talking about where else they "might" live someday, three of our children are nearby but for how long I don't know, and I am on a roll in my career with the desire and ability to stay at the wheel. I've been imagining for a while how I want to, and don't want to, remember - exactly now. 

I don't want to wish I was kinder,  more available, more patient, more attuned to the feelings of those I love, or more dedicated to my writing if those are things I can be exactly now. 

And while consulting the future to guide behavior in the present is hard, I know that for those who are nursing grudges, standing their ground, putting their pride way out in front, it will be a lot harder when there's no longer any point to it. 

My hope for people is this: consider that estrangements end, often over the birth of a child, rifts pass because they just seem stupid after a while, unimportant people may be your biggest fans,frail people are more frustrated with themselves than anyone else will ever be, and if you avoid hospitals because you hate them, the people in them hate them more. 

Someday, you will find that the ones you lost touch with, or those with whom you've grappled have moved out of your way. There may be a fleeting wish that they were there again. There are ways to make that hurt less.

Maybe you are already in the present that you wish to remember, and maybe there are people you would like to cut loose, thank you very much, the sooner the better. If so, Godspeed. 

If it's not like that, consider finding the strength to turn from the "I won'ts" or "I can'ts,"  that keep you comfortable on your side of distance, or safe on your side of a grudge and experiment with "I'll try." Understand that this is not giving in, but excellent training for kicking three in the morning in the ass. 

I have learned some things the hard way but I learned this easily: we don't stand in another's shoes often because it can be hard  on us to view our behavior from the outside without all those justifications that make it acceptable.  And this:  if it's hard to keep unnecessary comments to yourself until the moment ends, it's harder to take them back after you've released them.  

And this. 

Three in the morning should be about dwelling on better things, like, how it ever took this long to understand your incredible brilliance and all the things you can do with it when the sun rises, or, whatever happened to that kid in sixth grade who told everyone what the dirty words meant, or, whether it really is a deal-breaker to start a novel with a prologue.  

It's bad to live in the future, or the past. Some regret is inevitable. But some is preventable. 

That is one of my favorite things about life. 

It almost makes up for three in the morning.

Yes, you're reading too much news.

Is there anyone  who
doesn't wonder?

It starts with just once, usually in the morning.

Maybe a second look at night, right before dinner.

Soon though, it's halfway through the day when you have an odd feeling that something is happening without you, and when you check the headlines, there it is, the bright red ribbon at the top of a news page which tells you that, oh my God. You were right. You were only gone a few hours and already there's BREAKING NEWS

What the hell happened?

You realize you need more news to feel sure you haven't missed something. You start checking headlines when you break from big tasks. Then you start big-tasking when you break from checking headlines. 

Pretty soon, your normal activities become influenced by your news reading. Now, you don't want to talk about life and happiness with a friend over a glass of wine but the hidden reason Trump did so and so, and where he'll be in six months, and 

What the hell will happen?

After two or three weeks of this, you wake to the mother of news hangovers when you realize you're still upset about that awful story you read yesterday and couldn't stop thinking about. Your sense of humor is MIA. You're anxious and depressed.

You'll cut back, you say. You'll check headlines only once in the morning, like before. You fail.

When people say, "I never look at news more than once a day," you envy them.

Later, you think about that. "Ridiculous," you say while you stare at your phone and don't type "W" into the google box which has learned to instantly bring up the Washington Post.

Later still, however, you are vulnerable. You're working on a short story, you've been productive all day, and right there is the Google Chrome button saying "just two clicks and you'll be at the Wall Street Journal learning new stuff. Come on, you know you want to."

You wonder, as Kathleen Parker wondered in a recent article, if  you along with others are going a little crazy with Trump spreading viral crazy all over the place.

You remember that news hangover from last week .

You say your mantra: "Not doing this."

You walk away.

For a while you stand by the window and think about what's really going on.

You realize, you're not looking for information. You haven't been looking for information for a while. You just haven't been sure what would happen if you stopped looking. 

You remember what you've always known about anxiety: Fear is not information.

You realize that if these days feel uncertain and scary, BREAKING NEWS is not information either, but a hand yanking you into a dark alley as you pass by, minding your own business.

And now that you're tuning into your inner ally, a very, very good thing happens before you even have to find a local News Readers chapter.  

You no longer wish to be vigilant.

You just want to live to write and write to live the way you're supposed to.

A day or two later, you're laughing again and telling funny stories. Reading novels has left you with less time to read the news and today, you even forgot to check the headlines.

You're texting with your friends and talking about kids getting married and finding great jobs, and you're making plans to get together and talk about more stuff that doesn't come in red boxes with white letters.   

This was not a boating accident. You didn't happen in and happen out of your preoccupation with news. You know you need both a micro and macro feeling of control over your world and for a while you lost the latter.

Now you know, if reassurance  isn't available via Google Chrome, it is attainable via your powers of reason, resistance, and resolve as long as you protect them.

You won't forget that.

Every once in a while

Where I am

Every once in a while, I feel extraordinary attunement with the moment I'm in, which is also known as the present. 

In that moment, I know I am 

taking care of the people I love,

doing what I must to remain centered,

reaching out when someone else needs help.

I know I can

counsel myself away from a regrettable comment,

walk away from drama,

forgive,

forget.

I know I have

done my part,

pulled my weight,

shown my love.

Emptied the trash.

Bought ice cream for my husband.

I know now

that originality is more important than popularity, 

that the way to change behavior is to imagine how you'll remember it when you're older,

that I  have taken the right things from my mistakes,

and have started to forget the rest.

Every once in a while, I don't think about improving

or excelling,

or being read or seen or heard,

or noticed at all.

I don't dwell on times I've been in pain because in persevering, I've become a person I once didn't think I could be.

I don't look back,  

I don't look ahead,

I just look.

Every once in a while, in that still moment of the present, I realize,

I am not what I once wanted to be,

but what I am supposed to be.

I don't have what I once wanted,

but what I've always needed.

I don't hope for things to go well

but realize that things go the way they will,

and that "well" is up to your view of them.

Every once in a while, I feel really comfortable and I realize... 

It's not a mood,

It's not a good night's sleep,

It's not that I'm behaving,

It's not that I got good news or found money.

I feel really comfortable because I understand,

I'm not looking anymore, 

I'm here.

I'm remembering it. 

Because right now,

up or down, 

I'm where I'm supposed to be,

before I go anywhere else.