READING Cary Tennis columns, which the lovely J. in Beijing pointed me to, compulsively:
“Whenever we stand by unable to act, uncertain, holding out, waiting for something that may or may not occur, we are not living. We are not discovering life as it unfolds.
Life is messy and uncertain as it unfolds. There is only a very small area around our feet that we can keep orderly and sure. The rest is going to be messy. It is going to be messy and uncertain. But in that messiness and uncertainty there is also magic and grace.
That is the deal we make with life. We give up our fantasies of perfection in return for a chance at actual magic and grace. You cannot find that magic and grace by observing, holding yourself at a distance, waiting. You cannot find it by waiting because it is not something that happens to you; it is something you create. You create it by wrestling with life.”
*
“There are many ways to describe a self: As a set of memories, for instance. You are the storehouse of all that has occurred; you are the repository of and expert on all events occurring to you, a curator of memories, a collector.
Then there are your talents and abilities, the things you do with particular relish or style. Most interesting to me, though, is your collection of incidents of maximum impact, moments of insight, life-changing events: Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, the thing that has made all the difference. Some of these things involve unknowing knowledge, unsayable understandings. Certain things work for us: certain painters, certain tunes. That we can know dependably what works for us is also a measure of self.
Consider what others see when they see us: A kaleidoscopic procession of tiny performances. We are a canvas, too, a movie screen upon which others shine their light and, recognizing themselves or thinking they recognize themselves, love their own images seen on our blankness — on what we feel to be our lack of existence and which may really be our lack of existence!
What else do others see in us? If we have ever been kind, or laughed at a joke, or smiled a certain way or paid a compliment, or looked into another’s eyes with piercing intensity, then we have given something. As a consequence, people may feel that we are generous and kind. What we have given them may have been done in secret, unbeknown even to ourselves: We cannot always know what we are giving people; they get things from us we don’t understand. We help people without knowing it. We may have simply responded naturally, but it is taken as a gift, an act of kindness.
Also: We magnify others with our attentions. Have you ever been with someone whose interest in you seems inexhaustible, who can drink up as much of your blather as you can dish out, who never tires of your shovelfuls? Your shoulders tire of the shoveling and your eyelids grow heavy but … she glistens, mesmerized; you are unable to bore her no matter how dull you feel your words to be: You are the only person in the room and are thus magnified and so feel royal royal royal.
That is how it is with some people who don’t necessarily know us but have felt our effect and thus feel they know us, even if we feel that we do not know ourselves.
What do they know really? They know our kaleidoscopic sequence of tiny performances. They are familiar with our work. They know what we show them.
So there are many things that might constitute a self. But the interesting and somewhat contrary view is that the self is bondage, that our happiness can be attained only through losing self — by merging or acquiescing in something higher beyond us. ”
*
“These things happen and they take a long time to get over but always in the losing there is something to celebrate and remember: The priceless thing itself. It was there once. It really was there. It was not an illusion. It was not just a dream of something; it was the actual thing, the miracle, the love, the astounding knowledge of another’s heart.”
*
“I think a reasonable person would reach the conclusion that this is a married woman. You say so yourself. She’s separated but not divorced.
And then the reasonable person would say, Stay away from married women. They are not available.
They sometimes seem available. Sometimes they go out and get drunk and act as if they’re available. Sometimes they go live somewhere else for a while and that makes them seem as if they’re available. They even go out with other men. But they are not available. They are especially not available to you, especially in the way you want them to be available.
Had you been more aggressive and told her that you wanted to take her out with the explicit intention of starting an intimate relationship, you might now be in an intimate relationship with a married woman. That is not a good situation.
…Be glad you’re not involved with somebody who’s already involved. If you can’t get involved with people who are already involved without getting involved, don’t get involved. That’s my advice.”
