For that dash represents all the time that they spent life on Earth.
And now only those who loved them
know what that little line is worth.
For it matters not how much we own,
the cars, the house, the cash.
What matters is how we live and love,
and how we spend our dash.– The Dash by Linda Ellis
Every individual life is built from countless stories of paramount joy, inexplicable anguish, and rare moments of sober clarity. Overcome by the seemingly tantamount burdens of daily obligations, we close ourselves off to our own stories. We forget the vast valleys of mediocrity we pulled ourselves out of. Baked in those memories are characters who have significantly shaped our character and brought us immense joy.
We forget the joys that come from opening ourselves up to the vast shelves of stories that make up the lives of people we encounter everyday. We forget that those fleeting moments of fulfillment we yearn to recreate were borne out of a momentary selflessness when we surrendered to the vast worlds of another person. Unconcerned about the trivial, we connected to something deeper in this life.
The people we love are built into us. Every day I am suddenly aware of something someone taught me long ago — or just yesterday — of some certainty and self-awareness that grew out of conflict with someone I loved enough to try to encompass, however painful that effort may have been.
Cultivating relationships may perhaps be the most worthwhile effort we can make in this life. We approach relationships transactionally, either hoping to gain something or to avoid feeling lonely. However, it comes from a place of negligence, a refusal to grapple with our own insecurities, admit our many faults, and wholeheartedly recognize the contributions someone else has made on our development.
It’s easy to talk about the weather. The hard thing is initiating that difficult yet pressing conversation that looms over the relationship.
It’s easy to type up a half-assed text while we’re procrastinating on work. The hard thing is scheduling a time to meet up, committing to it, and giving our undivided attention to that person.
It’s easy to keep reaching for that phone on a hangout. Much harder to respect that brief time we have with this person and be deeply aware of the gifts that their presence brings.
It feels almost wrong to invite a conversation nowadays. In the age of texting and digital calendars, we have lost the spontaneity of an impromptu visit at someone’s home. Or complimenting a stranger with no strings attached. We’ve forgotten what it’s like to hold firm eye contact and make others feel truly heard.
There’s a musical beauty inherent to reconnecting with someone dear to us from our past. As Anthony Demelo reminds us, love is like an unending chorus that continues playing even in their absence. For that unending chorus is made of symphonies of laughing, playing, and maturing in concert with each other. Keeping our ears open to that symphony necessitates that we filter our the noise of distraction that is ever-present in our lives. It requires that we see past trivial differences, reject the default routine handed to us, and commit to the effort it takes to reconnect with that person.
We could be complaining about some slight or injustice made by others. It takes a rejection of our ego, a sustained mindfulness to remember the shared values that binds two distinct souls. To recognize the many gifts we were bereft of prior to their entry into our lives.
It’s perhaps the hardest effort we can make. However, it’s every bit worth it.
The moment that you feel that, just possibly, you’re walking down the street naked, exposing too much of your heart and your mind and what exists on the inside, showing too much of yourself. That’s the moment you may be starting to get it right.
– Neil Gaiman
It’s a profound act of courage to open ourselves completely, to trust that others won’t run away with our hearts or leave it stranded in the middle of a busy freeway waiting to be helplessly run over. It’s also our best chance at finding true fulfillment in this fleeting flame of a life we have.
Vulnerability is rare and that much more important in a society where digital silos hinder true connection. Instead of asking about the obviously cute bracelet of the person next to us in line for coffee, we bow down into our phones like guilty elementary school kids called into the principal’s office. We would rather listen to a hundred strangers online for a fleeting minute instead of facing the challenge of a deep conversation with our next-door neighbour. Where we were promised infinite connectivity, we find ourselves fundamentally deprived of the crucial in-person socialization we were evolved to draw energy from.
Connection is an act of relinquishing, of trusting the world with the fears we guard closely and the hopes that wake us up each morning. In Zen Buddhism, the experience of kensho describes a feeling of oneness with the entire universe. It often follows years, maybe even decades of meditation practice where a practitioner learns to let go of illusions that restrain us to a false sense of confinement within our limited selves. The world is inherently interconnected, independent of anything we can acquire. By learning to get outside ourselves, whether by spending time in nature or in the vast worlds of others, we can glimpse into this hidden fulfillment that’s always available to us. At its core is trust. And a desire to let go.
When the Stoics talk about living in accordance with nature, they directly refer to following our faculties of reason over our passions. I think they’re hinting at something more fundamental about the world. That the natural world, and human beings which are a part of it, hold the key to a fulfilling life.