Jasmine planned to begin working part time about two years ago.   In her mid forties, she felt it time to spend more time with the kids who had, up to this point, been brought up by nannies.   She was considering going freelance and starting her own consulting business.  Her  time would become her own and she’d made enough money that she and her family were pretty well off.

Hunter has worked extremely hard for the last several years trying to grow his company and build a solid nest egg.   He and his family live in a large house, they drive new, higher-end cars and on the surface all is going according to plan even though he works long hours.  A stranger passing the house in the late evening might see him, a solo figure in the room at the top of the house, working in the only window lit in the house.  But it is worth it because later they will all enjoy the fruits of this labor when it is time to stop.

***

John Steinbeck, in Of Mice and Men, wrote, “The best laid plans of mice and men oft go awry.”  In other words, reality has a way of stepping in and stirring up your nest and often does.

The large telecommunications company Josephine worked for went bankrupt when the CEO, who is now serving 25 years in prison, decided to use the company as his own personal bank account.  There is a very real possibility Josephine lost everything.

Jasmine never did go part time and although her hours were shortened she still worked the same amount of time and is now back at full salary.  Making great money, sure, but never stuck to the plan and her kids are still with the nanny.  Just recently she told me “why not make the money while I can.”  I just congratulated her quietly and a little sad.

Hunter has worked himself into poor health, obesity, seemingly perpetual fatigue and seems not as happy as he really could or should be.

From the guy who worked three jobs at twenty-three in order to retire to the redwood forests of California with his wife when they reached forty-five to the high-powered executive who’d done nothing but work and was now planning his early retirement, no one can predict the future or what the reality of life will toss their way.  Because the twenty-three-year-old couldn’t know that the house in the redwoods would be lost to an earthquake and the executive would never foresee losing his life in the accident that happened while he was engrossed in an early morning conference call on the drive in to work.

***

When someone needs glasses because they can’t see at close range, it’s called hyperopia and living your life only focused on what will be and not what is now is living a hyperopic life.  And that’s no way to live.

It is everywhere around us.  People looking to the future while they close that one last deal; placing that one last bet, that never seems to actually be the last, in order to get that payoff; chasing the money because they can’t seem to let go of the power and wealth to enjoy what they’ve worked so hard for.

But in all that time and while they are spending it focused on later, they forget to put on their glasses for today, missing their kids growing up, the beautiful turn of their young wife’s  jawline, the particular way the sunlight strikes the glass of tea perched on the deck railing, a quiet moment of reflection on a warm summer day and yes, even the successes that can be had on a work day well done.  The clichés of missing something in their life in order to set themselves up for later are legion and, unfortunately, true.

Back when I worked with Josephine, the cube farms were just an numerous as they are now and we all felt the pull to get to work and stay as long as it took.   Working late nights because we felt “it was the right thing to do.”  If you left before anyone else, you’d be thought, and sometimes called, a slacker.  You’d be ridiculed in jest and some would look askance at your departing back with the quiet accusation that you weren’t pulling your weight.  From what I can tell, nothing changed for the most part.   That environment still exists in a lot of places and some would say we’re no better off, nor more secure or happier.  Where does all that get you if you haven’t found the moments of joy and thrill?

A professor of business at Columbia University named Ran Kivetz theorized a paradox in human behavior.  When we put our responsibilities ahead of pleasures, done long enough, we are often left unhappy down the road.

Did you have those times in the past when you went for a beer and a bagel at O’Toole’s instead of studying for that Econ test?  She was cute and you just wanted to be around her.  You quit writing that term paper  a little earlier than you’d planned to go hang out and watch the popular TV show of the day with friends.  (It was so much more fun.) You went out after the softball game with new colleagues instead of getting home early so you could be well rested for work the next day.  Later in life, the lawn got a little longer in favor of heading over to the neighbor’s to watch the game or going out back to play soccer with your son.  Work was good and could be fulfilling, but so was having fun.

Then there are those times at the start of falling in love when everything took a back seat and being irresponsible was the responsibility.  It was so easy to favor the brief moments of pleasure and joy over the responsibilities because time could be made up later.  It would all get done, and perhaps the work would be a little more intense when you got to it, but it would get done.   It always did because here you are, reading this and you’re not living in a tent. You’re still alive and you’ve found a moment to relax.   A moment of your own.  Now.  But I’m guessing for a lot of people, these moments of ease and taking time out for themselves are fewer and farther between.   And that’s a shame.  Because indulging in the simple pleasures of life is, in the end, what makes life so great.

In some faiths the Present is the only real thing (I won’t go in to how that’s not even real because that’s for another time).  It’s the whole notion of living in the “now,” being in the present, yesterday’s gone and tomorrow’s not here so why worry about any of it.

Of course, realistically, you have to think somewhat of the future and responsibilities certainly are greater as we get older.  Hedonism can be just as dangerous as a bullheaded drive to work harder.  But, instead of going back to work after lunch, wouldn’t taking the left into the theater to see the matinee feel pretty good?  What about calling in sick one day so you can go on a hike with your new significant other or because you needed to cut the grass.  Then afterward, sitting back with a cold glass of something and enjoying the sweet smell of that freshly cut lawn, the birdsong and warm sun on your skin made you realize the real reason you called in.  We take these moments for granted but it’s these moments that create our lives.  String a bunch together and weave them throughout those things you really must get done and I bet it makes everything balanced, smoother, nicer to live in.  I called in sick from the Albuquerque airport once  when a buddy and I decided to spend the weekend and part of the next week hanging out in Taos, Santa Fe and Ghost Ranch, New Mexico.  It seemed like it was just kind of the right thing to do.  And being bad sometimes feels pretty good.  We all need to do more of that, don’t you think?

As we get older and the responsibilities of a more important job or children or a new business grow, we lose this ability to throw caution to the wind every so often.   I’m not advocating professional anarchy or anything.  I’m more talking about balance.  It’s like the old saying “take care of the pennies and the dollars take care of themselves.”  If you cast off the little things, the simple pleasures, you risk looking back in ten or twenty years and wishing you’d kept more pennies in hand.   Yes, the “dollars” in life are important and they always will be.  However, without the nuance of a well-lived life – the pennies – all the money or possessions in the world won’t salve the ache of regret over having not flown to Seattle to meet the girl you called Boomer for dinner with her parents in the Space Needle.   It won’t turn back the clock so you could go to the Balerics with your mates where the people are beautiful and the cuisine exquisite.  And you won’t be able to say “because I could” more often than not when asked why you did it.

I read or heard a story recently, I’m not even sure where, about a man who, on his walk to work every day, passed his favorite bakery.  He’d stop occasionally but knew stopping a lot would be trouble in a lot of ways.   On one particular day, he was a little late for work so passed by.  But the smell was enticing and seemed to call to him all the way to his office building.  He was at the door to his building when he just decided to indulge himself, turn around and walk back to the bakery.  He decided to keep the “pennies” and give in to the impulse, putting off the responsibility for just a moment longer.  Because he could, he did.  His life changed that day because his building was Number Two World Trade Center and the date was September 11^th, 2001.

We all have choices and each moment is our chance to make the choices that will help us look back later and think, “yep, I did it all pretty well.”  So, next time someone calls you up and says they have tickets to the game, or you’re sitting around the dinner table and you and your spouse and kids suddenly decide you want to take next week and go to Yosemite, maybe don’t think of what you have to do that week, just go.   Live your life on purpose!  Not only will you have fun now but you’ll be able to tell the tales and smile when you reflect later.  It seems like we’d all be so much the better if we trusted ourselves to balance the responsibilities with a bit of fun now and then.

Make it a life well-lived.

I had a former friend tell me their marriage was breaking up.  They said, “this has happened before.”  The implication being that their partner had caused the breakup.  Later, it came out that they had actually had the affair.  It revealed a lot about the character of a person I thought I knew.

A friend lost someone to cancer, and another friend underwent surgery for a brain tumor; now living with the possibility that sometime in the future it could come back.

Three other couples we knew split and I winced knowing the pain that would consume them and their children for a time.

I ran up against the stark reality that parents get old and infirm and there’s no stopping that train once it’s begun to pull away from the station.  No conductor to tell or emergency rope to pull as the wheels slip a few times and the forward momentum begins its gradual build to full steam ahead.

Was it my age group?  Was it just me?  Was it this “Decade of Discontent” revealing a side that was darker than anyone knew?  I couldn’t tell, but it seemed so odd that so much was going on.

The pattern seemed obvious but there were no particular reasons.  And there were people focusing on the negative and finding the danger, fault and unhappiness in everything.  Again I asked myself was it just me?  My own outlook?  The political climate?  All the intolerance in the world?  People looking over their shoulders because someone told them they needed to be afraid.   It’s a habit that’s easy to start and once there, like anything, it’s a hard one to break.  Where were those who smile at the simple fact that the sun came up and everything is right with the world?

I read recently that 35 percent of human communication is facial expression.  So a third of what your trying to say comes not from your mouth, but from your whole face (words are only 7 percent, body language the rest).  I wasn’t really surprised because for whatever reason, I have always sought to make people smile or laugh whenever I spend more than just a moment or two with them.  The face always looks much better that way.  It’s not something I actively seek, just a … well … hobby of sorts.   It seemed a decent thing to do.  Collecting happiness.  Watching for the smile, making a subtle joke or comment that elicits the crinkle of the nose, the sparkle of the eyes, the drawing of the corners of the mouth.  It’s a trophy from a brief exchange of words while waiting in line, a small token I can take from a business meeting, a triumph that, for a brief moment, I had a little part in bringing a small amount of joy to someone.

I have known positive people and I have known people about whom others say “boy, they find the negative in everything.”  Everyone has that choice to make  and, thankfully, some have made the choice to be happy people.   Just by their very nature they are happy and what a pleasure it is to run up against them.

***

Diane and I headed up to the Smoky Hill Library the other day for a meeting about high school options for  the boys.   It was a bright, sunny day and as we walked in to the library, we noticed a small coffee bar tucked off a hallway where the meeting rooms were.   The name escapes me, but it was typical of what you might expect; little alcove, books to read, a counter for service and a closet of a back room for supplies.  We had a few minutes so decided to grab something.

That would have been the end of it had the young woman behind the bar been a regular cashier just doing her job.   But she wasn’t.  As soon as she opened her mouth, the inflection and expression she put forth was like the wash from a passing semi.  The kind that rocks you back on your heals and if you’re not ready for it, you immediate think “whoa, laying it on a little thick.”  It made Diane and I smile but I was a little uncomfortable because I didn’t quite know how to take this person.

Ordering our drinks, we made small talk and in that minute or two I suddenly realized she wasn’t laying it on at all.  This was how she lived.   She was simply filled with joy.  It almost seemed as if every moment was a gift to her and she wasn’t apologizing to anybody for appreciating each one.   So much so that the words she used were full of happiness and appreciation.  Words like fantastic and wonderful, greeeat and excellent.  And she meant them.  We talked about nothing of particular importance but it was as if we were the ones she’d been waiting to talk to all day.  Suddenly, we were basking in her joy, letting it cascade over us like a warm late-summer rain; turning our faces into it, almost holding our arms out to catch what we could.  We walked away from that little coffee bar feeling pretty sweet.  It may have been one of the best drinks I’ve ever had … and it wasn’t the coffee.

***

My family and the boys’ grandparents went to Elephant Bar to celebrate father’s day this year.  We’d been there before, liking the service and the menu with its abundance of choices.  When our server walked up we were met with a bright, beautiful smile, pleasant air and friendly voice.  She didn’t sit down in the booth with us and pretend to be our friend.   She didn’t slap her book onto the table and squat down so she could look us all in the eye, elbows splayed out on the table while she took our drink order.  Nope, she just spoke to us directly, looked us in the eye and immediately (I’m not exactly sure how she did it) made us feel that she was happy to be there for us and maybe just happy to be there, period.  The conversation somehow strayed from the business at hand and we found out that she had ridden her bike to work.   She rode to work every day, in fact.   From Denver to Centennial.  We were duly impressed.

The weather was pretty stormy outside that evening so we expressed our concern about her return ride, but she brushed it off.  “I sometimes hop on the lightrail if I need to,” she said, even thought the lightrail was still a few miles up the road and riding in the rain was a real possibility.  She told us she was closing that night so it would also be late when she left.  With the weather, the late hour of her departure, the prospect of possibly having to stand dripping in the back of the train with her bike (those are the rules: you have to stand, in the back, if you have a bike) you’d think she would be put out.  Nah, life was an adventure and she just seemed to say “bring it!”  She was there to help people have a pleasant evening together, riding home in the rain was inconsequential.  We were convinced that anything challenging that came along for her would be met with relaxed determination and aplomb.

She was, I would venture to say, the best server I have ever had in the fifteen or so years I have lived in Colorado.  Not because she was there to fill our water every time we took a sip and not because the timing was especially perfect.  That didn’t matter.  It was because she looked at us with a clear gaze, spoke with a calm voice and projected a true desire to make our evening better.  Diane and I both felt the tip was nowhere near adequate to pay her back for that but we found her manager and made sure he understood there was someone in his midst that brightened the world around her.  That mattered.

***

How great to be around people such as these who are so warm and giving of their kindness and joy.  How great it would be if there were more of them.  You kind of wonder what font of life they’ve found from which to drink.  If I find it, I’m giving it away to anyone I can and I won’t tell the marketers.  They’ll just exploit it, soiling the purity of the simple luck of coming across someone and suddenly having your day become completely different.  And that’s kind of the point isn’t it.   Making the world brighter around you; laughing, sharing a joke with the person across the counter,  changing up the way someone might expect the conversation to go so they slip out of the groove a little.  And the smile always comes.   Another bit of happiness to collect.

Thank you sir, may I have another.

As you step out into the bright sunlight, or even the teeming rain, in days to come, think of the gift of a smile or kind word you’ve been given and use them both willingly and with reckless abandon.   If everyone endeavored to create laughter around them whenever they were, I am convinced their lives would be better for it.  And, who knows, perhaps they would unknowingly help that one person who needed it the most that day.   The neighbor who’d just told her husband she was leaving and knew the pain it caused, the one who’d just found out it wasn’t benign, the one who just spent the weekend discovering their parent didn’t really know who they were any more.  In that, they themselves might find a brief moment of peace, grace and joy without knowing where it came from.