Nat

The April 16 New Yorker magazine has a short item in “The Talk of the Town” about German filmmaker Philip Groning’s 3-hour documentary about Carthusian monks, called “Into Great Silence.” The movie portrays–largely in silence–the lives of monks in the Grande Chartreuse monastery in France.

The film has become so popular at the Film Forum art movie house in Manhattan that the theater has extended it’s engagement indefinitely and now brings a Carthusian monk, named Father Michael Holleran, to the theater to host a Q&A session after some screenings. Father Holleran no longer lives in a monastery, but he spent 19 years in monasteries, in which speaking was only allowed a few hours each week.

After the movie screenings, members of the audience ask questions about what life is like in the monastery, “You guys are supposed to be celibate, right?” It’s fascinating to me, and encouraging, that so many New Yorkers want to see what it’s like to be a monk with a vow of silence. When I was in my twenties, becoming a monk appealed greatly to me, though never enough that I really considered going forward with it.

Still, the thought of retreating from the onslaught of words, messages, and intrusion on our thoughts and plans brings peace just in the thought of it. Our words, so much of the time, fall short of what we need them to construct. It would be nice, I sometimes think, if we didn’t have any responsibility but to do things, without speaking about them.

It would be nice. Maybe some day.

I’ve been feeling a little sorry for myself over the last few days, but my friend Gilda found a great way to pick me up. She reminded me that electrons need to gather precisely the right amount of energy before they can make the leap to the next level–the quantum leap, in other words.

So, she said, think of yourself as waiting where you are to gather the energy to make the leap to the next level.

It sounds simple, but it was exactly what I needed to hear to believe that there was a good reason why things seem to be the way they are right now. I’m so grateful to have friends and family who know me well enough to say just the right thing. To be understood and reassured is both a relief and a joy.

If you know of anyone who needs this kind of pick-me-up from you right now, please pick up the phone or sit down at your keyboard and let them know. They may be desperate for it.

I was.

Today’s New York Times has a great column by Michael Winerip about the interviews he conducts in his New York suburb for applicants to Harvard College. Winerip, a Harvard graduate, describes the remarkable accomplishments of the young people he interviews, comparing them with his own at their age, and he marvels over the fact that he got into Harvard, while these more accomplished young people almost certainly will not.

He draws several conclusions, but the most interesting are that he now recognizes there are several ways to have a meaningful, satisfying life and the related observation that joy in pursuing interesting goals is its own reward.

The accomplishments of these people are varied and staggering: one spends the summer conducting university research for NASA on weightlessness in mice, another plays three instruments, composes his own music, and is writing a cookbook. Meanwhile, the author profiles his own children, who won’t get into Harvard, as being interesting, satisfied people.

He concludes his article with a run on the beach following an interview, where he runs into one of his non-Harvard bound sons. The son is surfing, alone, on a beautiful winter day, and they both agree it’s a beautiful day.

This view of achievement being just one aspect of a satisfying life really hits home for me. I love the notion that finding the path and goals that are right for you is the true mark of a meaningful life.

I often have Saturdays like today: I wait all week to tackle something I really want to do (clean up my study, write a poem, do a little work when there’s no time pressure), and instead I fritter away the time napping and watching TV. At my age that can seem like a giant game of chicken with one’s future.

People I know or used to know have achieved great things, while I’ve been treading water, and it’s taken me the better part of two years to come to terms with that. Even so, taking the step forward requires knowing what that step is.

Really this is about figuring out how to take uncertainty and transform it into decisive action. Hard work is one approach, and so is understanding what you really care about. It could be reading, or planting a garden, or taking a walk alone. It could be social–planning a dinner party, playing a sport, going on a trip with friends. Tonight all I really want is to go to sleep and wake up with a resolution to do something meaningful tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that.

What’s your secret for doing that? I’m sure lots of people would like to know.

American Idol is using its tremendous popularity with television viewers to raise money for poor children in Africa and the United States. The celebrities who judge the singers on the show, along with Ryan Seacrest who hosts the program, visited desperately poor children in South Africa, Kenya, and several parts of the US, including Louisiana, Kentucky, and Los Angeles.

Then they approached corporations (News Corp, Coca-Cola, Ford, AT&T, Allstate, ConAgra Foods, myspace.com, and ExxonMobil) who agreed to sponsor the fundraising. These companies gave millions of dollars. Tonight, the show encouraged its audience to call in and raise more money.

The stories profile beautiful children, who need our help. They are hopeful and determined. Many are orphans raising themselves. Many are sad, and the celebrities who participate are stunned by the hideous circumstances in which so many children live.

So at one point tonight, Ellen DeGeneres, who co-hosted part of the show, looked into the camera and challenged her wealthy friends to donate. Then she personally pledged $100,000 on the spot, and I started to cry.

It is powerfully moving to witness such generosity. You can help make life better for a child. Please consider making a donation here. (Or do it anywhere else–UNICEF, Save the Children, or your own church, synagogue, or mosque.)

Please give. It will make you feel good, and it will help a child live and dream.

This May is my 20th college reunion, and I’ve decided to go. It will be the first of our reunions that I have attended. At the time I was in college, there were a handful of people with whom I didn’t feel I had anything in common. I haven’t always wanted to go back to see them.

I’m older now, and frankly the prospect of spening two days with the people I really liked holds far more sway for me than avoiding the small number I wouldn’t want to see. It’s two days, so I expect to have way more time than people to fill it, but I’m always surprised how easy it is to keep up with people you used to know.

You have enough common reference points to jump right in and share profound ideas or stupid jokes. “Back in the day, we…” You might say when starting the conversation with an old friend who thinks you are funny.

My roommates Art and Katherine will be at the reunion. That would be enough of a draw. Besides, it’s not as if I will sneak out early. I’ll stay out some. Some.

That’s what I need to cut back on: trying too hard to figure it out.

Flo mentioned David Sedaris yesterday, and I always laugh to the point of exhaustion at Sedaris, especially when he reads his own material. There is nothing like uncontrolled laughter to make you feel good about a day. I know this is obvious.

Still, it’s worth noting any day filled with laughter. Today I went to Ohio on a business trip and had a 2-hour planning meeting with 3 colleagues and 3 staff members of one of our customers. About 30 minutes in, a delightful woman who works for our customer began telling stories about herself. They were self-deprecating and hysterically funny.

We spent most of the next 90 minutes laughing, and we all agreed that it was a very pleasant way to spend a work day. This shouldn’t be rare, and I’m going to do whatever I can to make sure it isn’t. I can’t recommend it strongly enough.

Linda Gregg’s latest volume of poetry, In the Middle Distance, continues to amaze me as I re-read it. My teacher, Natalie, recommended it to me, and she is right to think it beautiful. Many of the poems describe the speaker’s experience of living in the desert in Texas. What is beautiful is often lonely.

Except that what Gregg writes in the poem called “Fragments” is, “Beauty has a strangeness.” Beauty can be strange on many levels, not just in the way it sometimes takes you by surprise, as with a little dog so ugly it is adorable, or in the way a person who is old and misshapen appears soulful and transcendent.

Beauty can also be strange in making itself known where it appears to have no place. This is the beauty I find myself celebrating recently. I am struck by small items that I see on the ground outside–a pine cone, a flower killed by the frost, a bit of paper caught in the branches of a tree. When the light catches them right, and if I am in the mood to find a disconnected piece of nothing more than what it is, then I determine that there is a great power at work in the universe.

Ms. Gregg’s poems are just the kind of reminder I need to see these small beauties again.

My friend Gilda and I were just discussing the inspiring example that many members of the Virginia Tech community have set during and after the horrible shooting there this week.

First, there were the many victims who did everything they could think of to save others from the gunman, from Ryan Clark, to Prof. Librescu, and the many others who appear to have done the same. They went looking for ways to save others.

Their remarkable bravery and selflessness are matched by the grace of many in the VT community who have said in interviews that they intend to work hard at befriending anyone who seems isolated and left out in the hopes that they can build their connection to the community and defuse any anger that they may have.

I am even encouraged by the way the media turned eventually from relentless inquiry into the shooter’s background to research and publish the marvelous details of the rich lives the victims led, so that all of us who grieve for them also carry a sense of what made them special.

It makes me hope that we are turning a corner in this country, that we are prepared to proclaim the rich humanity and achievement of seemingly ordinary people. It would be a great tribute to the victims and their families for us to commit ourselves to seek out and recognize the good people and good deeds we witness each day. We will bring great hope to the world that we are all much more than the worst things that happen to us.

God bless the Hokies.

We spent another entire day playing tennis yesterday, and I took two more lessons. I’ve now had more lessons this week than in the last 30 years combined, and it has made a huge difference.

Yesterday’s big revelation was how to change my backswing to keep my wrist and shoulders more relaxed. Putting that together with the previous lessons on footwork and ball striking helped me hit my forehands relaxed and confident for maybe the first time in my life. I know the virtue of being relaxed and confident–most of us do–, but it’s another thing to do it. For me tennis has often been a battle with my own frustration and high expectation.

Yesterday it was fun. I hit ball after ball back and pretty close to where I wanted them to go. But the best part was hitting the shot right on the sweet spot in the center of the racket. Not only do such shots feel great, but they produce an entirely different sound, kind of a resonant whump. Again and again I heard the sound. And for a brief period, I felt as if I had more than enough time to get ready to hit the ball.

There is nothing like a great teacher, who knows how to help you see yourself and believe you can be better. This week I had four of them! Remarkable fun.