And Then I Said …

I’ve spent a life wondering why I cared so much when others never seemed to care at all. I used to wonder why my character was so flawed. I thought there was an element of masculinity that I had missed. I’ve felt less a man and more a fool. I’ve seen beauty that’s left me breathless. I’ve felt sorrow that’s left me speechless. I’ve felt happiness that’s kept me hopeful. I’ve felt loneliness that’s left me at a loss for words and teeming with tears. I’ve felt a faith that’s filled me with fortitude and enabled me to endure. And yet I’ve remained amazed that few men have shared the fact that they’ve shared those feelings.

So when I’ve offered sympathy to the apathetic or an open hand to the fisted, I’ve met their indifference with bewilderment. Why didn’t they care? Why didn’t they inquire? I’ve stood in the middle of a group of mates and was told, “Mark no one gives a fuck about that” and I said nothing. I’ve stood and offered no response to, “Oh who cares?” while I silently thought “me. I care.” I hadn’t considered that I couldn’t assimilate into a group of asses. I just knew I didn’t always fit. As I aged, I answered aloud. Yet I’ve remained perplexed. Well, until this week.

This week I’ve learned this lesson: I’m not flawed; I’m tenacious. When others didn’t inquire, I didn’t emulate. I inquired. While others were careless, I cared. I still care. I care that you care. I care when I don’t care enough. I care when you don’t care enough. I want to care enough to have the passion to carry on.

Yet when I have a problem, I don’t carry on and on about it to my friends. This may come as a surprise to anyone who’s read any of these expositions, but I’m a very private man. I rarely write about current relationships and I do not write about the daily doings of my life. My intent is to write about the incidents that provide me with a greater understanding of the fragility of humanity and the splendor of Divinity. Lately my life is a constant state of stress. It is because I’m human and I’m middle-aged. Every human being has these moments and as we age they accelerate. It’s called life.

I don’t discuss the details of my daily distresses with anyone. Why would I? They aren’t unique enough to require edification and they aren’t serious enough to warrant fraternal worry. So I trudge along. I’m not afraid or apprehensive about their disclosure. I’m cognizant that everyone is under stress and I understand that I do not require assistance enough that I’m justified in bothering my buddies with my woes for their burden. I’m not embarrassed by tribulation. I just think it’s somewhat selfish to offer a fellow human being your turbulence.

The first incident that provided clarity began a couple of weeks ago. I had a moment or two when I became overwhelmed and I confided in one of my closest buddies. He listened. I fussed and then I fortified. This week when we caught up again he didn’t ask me about my situations. I was slightly taken aback but then I backed up and looked in his eyes and I was aware that he didn’t care. He has his own worries. And we discussed the things that concerned him. For a moment I wondered why he didn’t ask me of my worries and I questioned myself for seeing the discrepancy. I judged myself selfish and I judged my reaction as egocentric.

The second incident that provided clarity began a while ago. For the past couple of years I became professionally acquainted with a man. We nodded and traded names but we never moved past that point toward friendship. We’d pass each other. We acknowledged the other’s presence. We sometimes said hello. We were cordial but not companions. The last time I met his acquaintance I took the time to talk. We exchanged a conversation that had little meaning yet held more kindness. I thought it was inconsequential and I offered the conversation neither credence nor consideration.

This week we encountered again. I inquired about the outcome of an incident and he informed me of the consequences of the event. And then he dropped the artifice and he looked me in the eyes and he said, “Hey thanks for the interest.” And I was stunned. This is a man in the middle of a challenging and celebrated career. He’s personable, polished, and praised. Why was he surprised someone inquired? And then I realized that although I had offered our previous conversation low importance, he had not. I cared but I wasn’t concerned enough to be careful. But he cared and when he looked into my eyes - he knew I cared too. And then he realized he didn’t have to be careful.

I considered the two incidents and I saw parallelism in the partnership. I saw the dichotomy between the one who surprised me because he wasn’t interested and the one who was surprised that someone was interested. I’m not in the position to judge whether it is in one’s best interest to remain disinterested. I know I am incapable of doing that even when it’s in my best self-interests.

I asked a friend of mine the other day whether or not we wanted to live lives without worry. And I just typed the word worry. I’m not confused and should have typed the word anxiety. Anxiety is a disproportionate amount of worry that is worrisome because it’s based on a selfish reaction to a lack of action. I’m defining worry as caring enough about other people to be concerned about the consequences of their incidents and their actions. I won’t reveal her response. Those are her words to share. I said that I wanted to live a life that was concerned with the concerns of others.

And so I take emotional risks because what are we actually risking? I asked someone that recently and she astutely replied, “rejection.” That’s very true but I think we’re risking pride too. I try to not allow my pride to prevent me from providing companionship to people. I feel foolish sending a birthday card or any greeting card but I remember how fondly I feel for the fellow or how grateful I feel for his kindness and I can’t allow myself to deny a just action because I fear an adverse reaction. So I place calls to the ones I call my friends. And I write emails that inquire and I try to inspire. I ask questions that probe their problems but aren’t a violation of their privacy. I try to share people’s concerns even when they don’t concern me.

As I type this I feel as if I’m implying I am a prying type of man. I am not. I don’t feel the need to be apart of everyone’s life. I just don’t want anyone to feel they are a part from anyone’s life. And I try not to be suspicious of the motivation of other’s conversations. The sheer joy of the synchronicity of Divinity is that God aligns many parts to make a unified whole. And it’s our fragility that makes us wholly human. And it’s His generous providence that makes Him holy Divine.