Why it's Important to Sharpen Your Interest in Other People

I once heard someone say, “Sharpen your interest in people and life.” It made consider how tempting it is to overlook the importance of authentic connection and how life’s ups, downs, but mostly in-betweens can gradually make living seem like we’re punching a clock.

Our past informs our lives in significant ways; a failed relationship, a thwarted dream, our sense of self desperately unclear can convince us it’s safer to opt out rather than play another hand.

I’ve often wondered the difference between those who view failure as an opportunity for reinvention versus those who see failure as an excuse to retreat further within themselves.

A few years ago, as I sat in a cramped coffee house a few blocks from my old grad school, I overheard a conversation between an elderly man and a woman roughly the same age.

The two were strangers until they weren’t. The gentlemen and I were sitting by the window facing Broadway, directly across the street from Koronet Pizza, a neighborhood stalwart as far as pizza goes.

“I like to sit here because the light’s better for reading,” I overheard him say before realizing I agreed.

He obliged her request to sit at his table as he perused the New York Times. A smile spread across his wearied face as she took her seat. It was as if he needed, however briefly, to truly connect with another soul.

I wondered for a moment why she didn’t ask to sit at my table though I may have been more relieved than I cared to admit. It may have been the giant Everest backpack resting in the empty chair beside me, or a feeling on her part she might have more to say to the man across from me should an opportunity to speak arise, which it eventually did.

It was clear they were both well-read and informed about current events, which is to say they knew a thing or two about politics. They seemed to bond over their disdain for a presidential candidate and a few other slightly less polarizing issues and people.

But when the conversation shifted to the future the old man said over and over that he was hopeful, while his new friend glanced at him incredulously.

This man, who was undoubtedly in the final chapter of his life clung fiercely to a sense of hope for a future he would likely not be a part of.

The woman on the other hand seemed intrigued but too versed in songs of broken promises to indulge him.

Still, their differences were not a barrier to kindness or authentic connection. Neither ever interrupted the other, they listened with the intent to understand, and even when they disagreed they did so with kindness and respect.

There was an artistry to their exchange; an unspoken respect for having lived enough life to know what they didn’t know.

When it was time to go they each rose from their chairs and headed off in different directions becoming strangers once again.

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Why You Should or Shouldn't Go to Grad School

A few days ago I hopped on the phone with a friend who was in the thick of auditions for drama school. She’d been mulling over the idea of going to grad school when she called. “I want something to do,” she told me.

Like most actors she was frustrated with the lack of opportunities to work more and as a result had come to the conclusion, however flawed, that drama school would be a kind of antidote to her creative malaise.

“That’s not a good enough reason to go,” I told her.

For those on the fence about whether investing 3 or 4 years of your life is the right call here’s my take on whether or not grad school is a good idea.

What graduate school will do is push you beyond what you think you’re capable of. You’ll be stretched to limits that only like-minded colleagues could inspire you to reach. There is something compelling about a group of people working collectively to share the human condition and a deeply personal part of their own humanity. It’s enthralling, inspiring, and you miss it profoundly when it’s gone.

You will also learn the fundamentals of being a skilled storyteller. The tools to stand on a stage and truthfully speak the words of Shakespeare, Odets, and Brecht is not for the dilettante or dabbler. Like any honorable craft acting takes commitment and an almost unreasonable sense of fortitude. 

Perhaps most importantly, you’ll learn the art of collaboration. Specifically, the ability to work with other artists whose vision may or may not be in harmony with your own. True artistry evolves from infusing those very differences into the work. Creativity works because of, not in spite of, diverse world views.

But grad school will not necessarily land you a top agent, help you book more work, or mitigate that void that many artists search a lifetime to fill. It is not an alternative to solitude, confusion, or lack of community.

You invest the time, energy, and resources because you’re driven to get better, to be stretched, and perhaps discover a little more about why you feel the need to do what you do.

Pause

We live in some pretty remarkable times. Your smartphone is more powerful than any computer President Reagan had at his disposal. 

We can launch businesses while nestled in a corner booth at a coffee shop. 

And its easier than ever to start a campaign, community, or movement. 

But with greater opportunity also comes heightened risk and the need to pause before stimulus and response. 

Your Tweets, Posts, and comments are now there for posterity. A reactive moment, which reveals our less than best selves reminds us of our humanity but also of the need to take personal inventory before responding.

Take a moment, however hard, to pause before making a tough decision, reacting to the driver that cut you off in traffic, or posting your thoughts on a particular topic. 

Try coming back to the matter a few minutes, hours, or even a day after and see if you feel differently. 

In time, you develop the capacity to be led by reason rather than emotion. 

The Importance of Talking to Strangers

A year ago I found myself in Ljubljana, Slovenia of all places. As I approached a busy intersection, I asked a young woman on a white Vespa what I could expect to see if I kept walking. 

“Not much,” she said. “How long have you been here?” she asked. 

“A few hours,” I explained. 

“You’ve probably already seen everything,” she said, as I laughed. “I can show you around if you like.” 

Her name was Nina and she was a 26-year old teacher originally from a neighboring town. She had a beautiful abandonment of heart, a love of life that is a common hallmark of youth but hers was different. I sensed it would remain with her for the rest of her life. She reverberated with life almost as loud as her white scooter as we sped down narrow streets.

I told her how the last time I was on the back of a stranger’s scooter was while living in Shanghai as an English teacher. I was returning home from the bars on Maoming Lu one evening, watching the cab’s meter carefully, planning to be let off just before the fair exceeded the coins in my pocket. When I was finally dropped off I still had a mile and half to go at nearly 3:00 in the morning.

I noticed a man about to get on his motorcycle and somehow communicated I needed a ride. He rubbed his fingers together indicating money, I pointed to my fake Rolex watch, he gestured back to the bike and off we went. 

Never was so much said in so few words.

There I was, a 24-year old punk kid, riding on the back of a stranger’s motorcycle in one of the world’s greatest cities just a few hours before the sun would rise. And now, over a decade later I’d come nearly full circle.

We zipped past buildings and parks that Nina admittedly had very little knowledge of. “I can’t really tell you what these places are,” she shouted back to me. We made conversation, alternating which side to scream back to one another as we moved nimbly through traffic. 

Soon we found a spot just outside the Gallery of Modern Art. We sat across from each other and spoke spiritedly about Haruki Murakami, Maslow, travel, relationships, and what I could not miss before I left.

She also mentioned that Slovenians were not a patriotic people echoing exactly what Jurij had told me in the apartment just a few hours before. We don’t have that problem, I thought.

Soon it was time for Nina to run some errands. We agreed to meet up later in the evening. She wanted to introduce me to some of her friends and I suggested bringing Jurij along as well. We hugged as I thanked her for her kindness and generosity. 

“No problem,” she said as she put on her shiny white helmet. “You should always talk to strangers,” she said. 

I was sure glad I had.

A Mentor Like No Other

From the first moment I touched down in South Africa I kept hearing the name of a woman. “You have to meet her!  If not for Phumla there would be no Chintsa,” people declared.  

Who was this woman? I began to wonder. And how could one person play such an influential role in the lives of one community?

She could not have stood more than five feet tall and walked with a slight hitch in her step. Yet, what she lacked in physical stature she made up for with towering respect.  

In this school where teacher apathy was rampant and resources scarce she was the one figure I saw kids in all grades approach for help. Moments after finally meeting her, I too was a believer. 

In large part to Phumla’s efforts the Amathole District Municipality in East London had collaborated with Chintsa East to provide Waste-to-energy and renewable resources to this small K-8 school.  Compost consisting of vegetable, pig, and human waste was used to provide heat for the school’s stoves.  

Drinking water was reclaimed and used to properly flush toilets that were at one time a sanitation headache.  

Finally, rainwater collected in two man-made basins was used to water the school’s cherished garden.

I had answered the call for service many times but my time watching Phumla was different. I learned the artistry of caring. I admired how she saw people as opportunities rather than problems.  

She also taught me that a life of service was an honorable calling. I had never heard of Chintsa Village or even East London before my journey to South Africa. I would have never known about Phumla’s work had I not taken a chance to visit this part of the world.  

Yet, Phumla is not the only person in the world doing important work in her community. There are many like-minded and courageous people ready to meet you and offer their mentorship. The key is to take that first bold step.  

As a friend once observed, “You’d be surprised what you can get in life if you just ask.”

Someone Somewhere Understands

"What one society judged to be strange, another might more sensibly welcome as normal. Other lands may return to us a sense of possibility stamped out by provincial arrogance; they encourage us to grow more acceptable to ourselves." - Alain de Botton

I used to take a great deal of pride in my brooding. It sounds ridiculous but I once believed the obstacles and worries I felt were unique only to me. No one could identify with my complexity, my subtleties, what made me tick. 

Comical.

It takes a great deal of courage to be vulnerable. We risk ridicule or judgement. But sharing our pain can liberate us from the shame or embarrassment we may feel. 

I've heard it said that on the other side of fear is freedom. Only it's not about denouncing that fear but learning to co-exist with it and not allowing it to define us. 

When we search for the friend or community of people who we can talk openly to we have the great fortune of stumbling across those who know seem to know us better than we do. We take solace in that connection and find the freedom to offer what Montaigne called our "true portrait."

My hope is that 2018 is the year you feel empowered to share your true portrait and make the effort to connect with a group of people who find profound joy in your perfect strangeness and unconventional view of the world. 

Whatever you are going through know you are far from alone. There are people, lots, who can identify with whatever you are feeling. To think otherwise is short-sighted, perhaps even a bit self-indulgent. 

There are 7 billion people on the planet and thousands of years of human history. One should take enormous comfort that someone somewhere feels your struggle, your heartache.

By sharing our stories we can empower others through our experiences and make the world a little smaller. Isolation after all perpetuates our pain.

Find your tribe and commit to not spending another moment being false to yourself.

Say What You Need to Say Sooner Rather than Later

One evening my dad called me into his study just before I made my way to bed. He asked me to sit down as he carefully went over the talk he’d scripted.

“You know Nick, you and I have a pretty formal relationship. It reminds me of my dad. We became friends but it wasn’t until late in his life. I hope we can do better,” he told me.

I went to sleep that night confident we could. But as the years rolled on the chasm that seemed to engulf any strand of open and honest communication remained. We spoke in sound bites about the weather, the news, and the local sports team. I wondered how I could be so vulnerable and fearless with friends but not with my own father. For many years I harbored enormous guilt and sadness over my inability to be the type of son I thought he deserved.

Strangely, my father and I became closer when for the second time in my relatively young life I moved away from home. His frequent business trips to New York allowed us dinners at his favorite restaurant. Just a few blocks from the pulsating heart of mid-town Manhattan sat a no frills Italian hideaway with the best pre-fixed menu in town.

Huddled around a checkered tablecloth and Caesar salad afforded us no place to hide. I could no longer wolf down dinner and race to my room to finish homework. For the first time in my life I was getting to know my dad. As I got to know the man behind the man I began to gradually appreciate that our inability to communicate was far more nuanced and complicated than I’d originally thought.

Growing up in an Italian-American household in Brooklyn, New York during the 1950s with a father in the military was probably not the most opportune environment for a boy to express his feelings. As a result, he became a man who didn’t either. Add a mom from Korea and a culture that spoke equally seldom about tough subject matters and you have a home with virtually zero communication.

I feel incredibly fortunate to have such wonderful and loving parents but made a promise to myself long ago that when it’s time for me to start my own brood we are going to talk about everything, including what’s not convenient.

Make the effort early on to ask questions and say the things you need to say. There’s no prize for learning things the hard way. You’ll never regret making the effort, forging a stronger bond, and stumbling upon ways to fortify the support system at home.

Lessons from that Old Star Fish Story

By now everyone has likely heard the story of the young girl who was walking along the beach one day where thousands of star fish had been washed up following a terrible storm.

Without any fuss, she'd approach each starfish, pick it up, and toss it back into the ocean. This went on for quite some time before a crowd began to develop, many watching her with amusement. 

Eventually a man approached her telling her she had no chance of making an impact. "Look at this beach," he cried. "What you're doing won't make any difference. There are literally hundreds and hundreds of starfish scattered across this beach."

For a moment the girl's shoulders slumped and her heart sank. She looked defeated. 

But just a moment later, she picked up a starfish resting at her feet and threw it back in the sea. "Made a difference to that one," she beamed.

The old man who'd mocked her just a moment before was so inspired by her gumption he decided to join her.

That story has been told millions of times and one of the reasons it's so important is because we often think our contributions to the world need to be on some grand scale. 

And though it's important to dream big, aiming solely to make a dent in the universe often leads us to overlook the smaller ways we can impact a person, or a community. 

I've gone into countless situations convinced setting up a few beds at a homeless shelter, or mentoring a student wouldn't make a difference. But it absolutely did. 

I may not have launched a rocket, or discovered an innovative way to prevent disease but I've done what I could in whatever community I was fortunate to be a part of.

Find a person, place, or cause you can offer value to in whatever way possible.