Practical Wisdom

When I was a teenager, I had a notebook filled with quotes. My bedroom closet had sliding mirrored doors and I took colored sharpies and wrote quotes all over the glass, and invited those who came over to do the same. They were quotes from authors, actors, politicians, philosophers. Funny thing is, I don't remember most of them. One day I cleaned the mirror and never put anything back on it. My dogs destroyed the notebook.

The quotes that stuck with me over the years weren't the kind of things found in history books or classic movies. It was simple profundity, those passing statements from people with more experience and perspective than I had at the time. Don't get me wrong, I've been deeply moved by the art of words (I have a quote from Frasier tattooed on my feet) but it pales in comparison.

"Oh, come on. If you're alive and breathin', you got issues."

--> Andy, a classmate of mine in the massage therapy program. He was about twenty years my senior and unbothered by pretty much everything. This was his response to my insistence that I am a deeply flawed individual. I didn't realize it at the time, but the man was Zen personified.

"You can go deeper. I'm not made of sugar."

-->A client I had at a spa in Atlanta. She was an elderly (and surprisingly athletic) German lady who chuckled and said this when I asked how the pressure was. She said she grew up working and was tougher than she looked.

"Hey, you're alive and on two feet, so I'd say you're doing alright!"

--> A man I met in a hospital elevator while visiting my grandfather. He asked how I was doing, and I said "Okay, all things considered." This was what he had to say back to me.

I think the reason these three stand out so much to me is because they were all spoken to me at pivotal times in my life- they were exactly what I needed to hear to keep me grounded. Andy was uninterested in entertaining my self-pity. The German client implication that she was not some frilly, frail thing that would just dissolve away reminded me that I too, am made with grit. The man in the elevator reminded me that in despite of the despair that surrounded me, there is still something to be grateful for.

I haven't seen any of these people in many years and likely never will again. There's a part of me that hopes that the wisdom they've so casually passed on to me is wisdom that was once casually passed on to them somewhere along their journey. It seems like the natural order of things.