Yesterday was my fiftieth birthday. Inevitably, after opening gifts, talking to family, and eating delicious chocolate covered strawberries provided by my wonderful wife, I started pondering some big, weighty questions.
Strangely, the moment that provides me the most clarity looking back over my life was when, at the age of 21, I almost fell to my death from a six-story rooftop in Paris clad only in my underwear.
I was living in a 'chambre de bonne' (a simple one-bedroom apartment with a squat toilet in the hall) near Montmatre. The idea was to spend a year living in Paris, train at a top-notch fencing club and figure out what I wanted to do with my life. Life was crazy, terrifying, frustrating. I was making almost no money, training all the time, improving my French, and trying to have fun. One night I accidentally locked myself out of my room going to the bathroom wearing a natty pair of boxer shorts and nothing else. After I unsuccessfully attempted to rouse help from the landlord, I figured out that I had left the window to my 8 inch balcony open. To my 21-year-old brain, it seemed that all I needed to do was climb out over the roof, let myself down onto the balcony and all would be well.
There was a precise moment I figured out that this was a terrible idea. It was when I was scooting on my butt over the shallow incline of the roof, I looked out over the midnight Parisean skyline, and realized (A) just how high I was above the ground, (B) how my underwear had just gotten snagged on a hook designed to keep the roofing tiles in place, and (C) that I might die. The adrenaline kicked in and I began to panic. God knows how, but I unhitched my ass, lowered my legs over the precipice, turned around to face the wall, and lowered myself onto the balcony. I vowed quietly to myself that "this never happened, no one ever need know" and attempted to go about my life as normal.
But it did happen. I really could have plummeted to my death that night. It would have likely been tragic, newsworthy, and definitely a contender for a Darwin Award. I think of it now because I wonder what is different between that outcome and the one I'm living now.
The main things that stand out for me are not the most vivid experiences or the moments when I was the most happy. The moments that matter are those when I made a difference in other peoples' lives. Some are negative, where I made mistakes, and caused damage, albeit unintentionally. I think of those with regret and shame and feel a certain longing for the Christian rite of reconciliation, where I could confess my sins and have them be absolved. These moments stick in my craw and serve as a reminder to hold myself accountable and pay attention to the impact I have on other people.
But there are a few memories, where I was able to make a positive difference in the lives of others.
Strangely, the moment that provides me the most clarity looking back over my life was when, at the age of 21, I almost fell to my death from a six-story rooftop in Paris clad only in my underwear.
I was living in a 'chambre de bonne' (a simple one-bedroom apartment with a squat toilet in the hall) near Montmatre. The idea was to spend a year living in Paris, train at a top-notch fencing club and figure out what I wanted to do with my life. Life was crazy, terrifying, frustrating. I was making almost no money, training all the time, improving my French, and trying to have fun. One night I accidentally locked myself out of my room going to the bathroom wearing a natty pair of boxer shorts and nothing else. After I unsuccessfully attempted to rouse help from the landlord, I figured out that I had left the window to my 8 inch balcony open. To my 21-year-old brain, it seemed that all I needed to do was climb out over the roof, let myself down onto the balcony and all would be well.
There was a precise moment I figured out that this was a terrible idea. It was when I was scooting on my butt over the shallow incline of the roof, I looked out over the midnight Parisean skyline, and realized (A) just how high I was above the ground, (B) how my underwear had just gotten snagged on a hook designed to keep the roofing tiles in place, and (C) that I might die. The adrenaline kicked in and I began to panic. God knows how, but I unhitched my ass, lowered my legs over the precipice, turned around to face the wall, and lowered myself onto the balcony. I vowed quietly to myself that "this never happened, no one ever need know" and attempted to go about my life as normal.
But it did happen. I really could have plummeted to my death that night. It would have likely been tragic, newsworthy, and definitely a contender for a Darwin Award. I think of it now because I wonder what is different between that outcome and the one I'm living now.
The main things that stand out for me are not the most vivid experiences or the moments when I was the most happy. The moments that matter are those when I made a difference in other peoples' lives. Some are negative, where I made mistakes, and caused damage, albeit unintentionally. I think of those with regret and shame and feel a certain longing for the Christian rite of reconciliation, where I could confess my sins and have them be absolved. These moments stick in my craw and serve as a reminder to hold myself accountable and pay attention to the impact I have on other people.
But there are a few memories, where I was able to make a positive difference in the lives of others.
These were sometimes grand acts of generosity.
I helped a buddy propose to his girlfriend by setting up a romantic scene on Venice beach for them to happen upon during a Valentine's day walk.
A colleague was sacked in the most disingenuous way on his birthday. I went to the Ralph's across the street, bought him a bottle of Jonnie Walker Blue Label and hastily assembled an impromptu card that read 'Keep Walking'.
I learned that an acquaintance was sleeping in her car, and invited her stay in my apartment for free while she got her life together. We were roommates for two years.
There are a bunch of other times, when smaller actions had an impact: apologizing when I needed to; forgiving people when I could manage to; seeking communication with people that didn't like me; keeping my word when it was inconvenient to do so; trusting the generosity and competence of strangers; holding a stranger's hand when they freaked out on a turbulent plane ride. I dunno.
Beyond meeting my wife, falling in love, and having our son, these are the things that mean the most to me.
If I had died that night, these are the things that would have been lost. These are the moments that mattered. Other moments of pleasure, passion, joy, triumph, fulfillment, or accomplishment will leave no trace when I finally leave. The legacy we leave is the difference we've made. No more, no less.
It's profoundly moving to think about this now, as a middle aged man arguably just coming into my power, I now have the chance to dedicate the rest of my life to love and support my family, to be of service to others, and to make a difference for them.
This well-worn quote Bernard Shaw seems apropos:
GAB, RWC, 4/16/2020
If I had died that night, these are the things that would have been lost. These are the moments that mattered. Other moments of pleasure, passion, joy, triumph, fulfillment, or accomplishment will leave no trace when I finally leave. The legacy we leave is the difference we've made. No more, no less.
It's profoundly moving to think about this now, as a middle aged man arguably just coming into my power, I now have the chance to dedicate the rest of my life to love and support my family, to be of service to others, and to make a difference for them.
This well-worn quote Bernard Shaw seems apropos:
I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work, the more I live. Life is no 'brief candle' to me. It is a sort of splendid torch which I have got hold of for a moment, and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to the future generations.If there's a way of living a good life, of having few regrets, and even some pride in I am, these are the things I choose to look to. Going forward, I also know what to do to gather more of them.
GAB, RWC, 4/16/2020
