There’s an action you’ll take today that could be your last.
When the holidays creep closer on the calendar, we conjure ghosts of the last.
The last Thanksgiving with a loved one. Or a friend. A favorite pet.
A last Christmas with a spouse or child headed off to college, and you wonder if he or she will come home again for the holidays.
What is life? But a series of firsts and lasts. As we age, the tables turn to where the lasts outnumber the firsts. And that’s where wonder goes to die.
Don’t let it happen.
So, it’s up to us alone to shift the laws of the Universe. A big but achievable job. We must rethink, reinvent, and circle the lasts back to firsts.
But how?
Look at the same old things with new eyes: When I watch my puppies sleep together, all huddled and close, I think of it as the last time I’ll see them fighting for space on the same bed. I linger and appreciate the special scene. Any day, I know this space will be empty, and I want to relish every moment. I switch the last into a first. I’m happy, grateful, and mindful of the honor of caring for them.
Take the extra step: In the rush of the day, step back, text or call someone, and communicate how much you appreciate or love them. How grateful you are. No big fuss. A few words then on with the day. This exercise scares your last moment and emboldens your first. In my head and most important, my heart, I feel the last move up to a first. Every word embraces me and anchors a stronger memory. A deep appreciation. Freezing moments is a great way to turn your inevitable lasts into perpetual firsts.
Thanksgiving is a great opportunity: to rearrange lasts and firsts. Look around the table, and take a snapshot for your mind’s eye. Who may be with us next year is out of our control. Who is with us this year acts as a marker for a memory, a smile. A first.
And that’s all you need to do to create stronger circles. Ones that will keep you warm and less alone when inevitably, the last arrives.
Remember. Never forget: Lasts can blossom into Firsts. They’re a necessary evil and yet a blessing. And nobody can take that gift, that metamorphosis, from you.
And with a last breath, these moments will exhale a first.
In a field of smoke, looking at the sky, their light succumbs to blackness.
In a trench, staring at a compatriot, longing that all will be ok, blackness comes.
On a beach, squinting through webs of blood, searing thoughts of a wife, a girlfriend.
Family.
Then again, the call of blackness.
In this darkness, born of sacrifice, the blood of patriots forges the path of freedom we all share.
Until today.
The shared colors of America are rapidly fading. The darkness faced by patriots, and the shadow of their sacrifices are dissipating into the ether.
The spirits of those soldiers who fought for our freedom are dying again. The love of and allegiance to country they sought to spread among us, is fading.
But not out of sacrifice, but of self-absorption and hate. Free speech, the rule of law, and the demise of allegiance to freedom overall, are placing our dead back into battle only to find them fading into a blackness that today, signifies nothing.
Imagine – there is no longer the warmth of sacrifice that overwhelms the cold of graves. There is no fire, just the dark, charred remains of what we were.
Oh, I’m not counting out the spirit of Americans or America completely. However, our foundation is cracked, and larger breaks are quickly appearing.
Our fire is going out.
Let us choose Memorial Day to fix them, reignite the blaze.
Let us never forget how the darkness of our past protectors feeds the light that allows us to move forward as individuals.
But most important, as a nation. An American nation.
And a family with warm candles that light the path of the souls who fought for us to exist.
I watch several films repeatedly until my eyes are so weary it’s like seeing through Vaseline. Here’s my list. Don’t get crazy. You have yours. I have mine. Let’s not have a Civil War over films.
Don’t we have enough better reasons to start one already?
Ok, here’s my top ten:
Roadhouse.
Next of Kin. (Check it out).
Gladiator.
The Godfather Part II.
Night of the Living Dead (and all its Dead-ish progressions).
John Wick (except 2 – meh).
Giant.
Anything James Bond (except for Pierce Brosnan – too pretty).
Wall Street.
Bride of Frankenstein.
Gladiator, an epic film by Ridley Scott, came out in 2000 with a script Russell Crowe tried to rewrite on the fly. He called it ‘underdone’ and ‘half-baked.’
GARBAGE, even!
Characters in the original script were stuffed pasta shells with no cheese; Maximus was a cartoon character solely out for revenge (sometimes that works, but it’s iffy). So, the mission was to give the Roman General some raw heart, brooding pathos, and a kick-ass focus on vengeance.
Mission accomplished.
Critics hated it. But critics hate everything unless the coastal elites find it complex and pretentious enough for middle America to tune out because, you know, if you don’t live on the coasts, you’re a dolt.
Oh, and unless some dude is wearing a wig and heels, then it’s a MASTERPIECE.
The film’s first draft focused on Commodus, a deplorable, ethically broken character. The first rule in screenwriting (mine anyway) is you need to know who the good ‘guy’ is and like him or her. Maximus was indeed likable. Stoic, too.
Also, Russel Crowe is not too bad in gladiator garb if you’re into that sorta thing. I’m sure Gladiator Wars played out in many bedrooms after the movie premiered. Can you imagine Marcus Dadbodius and his pillow sword?
I prefer not to.
Now, besides the bombastic dialogue (again, which Mr. Crowe disdained, although I believed it fit for a military icon of Rome), there were character actions carved into the movie-watching psyche that sprouted the little voices in our heads to further guide us through who Maximus was inside. His depth enhanced his arc – from a revered leader of the Roman army to a slave to, finally, THE GLADIATOR.
EPIC.
What a saga. A comeback story. We love comeback stories. Well, we used to love comeback stories. Now, I’m really not sure. Now I think we love – pull out, come on my back, stories.
Anyway…
Maximus loved his family. They were brutally obliterated by the instruction of the evil Emperor Commodus, who killed his father, Marcus Aurelius, for the privilege.
In a tiny burlap sack, Maximus carried figurines of his slain wife and son- his inspiration to go on. Whenever Maximus opened that damn bag, removed those figures, and kissed them on the head, you just knew conflict was imminent.
He longed to join them in due time; he smoldered over them. And if you haven’t watched Gladiator already (it’s out over two decades, for God’s sake), I’ll happily go ahead and ruin the ending for you – He reunites with his family in the afterlife after saving Rome from the Clintons.
Oh, I’m kidding about the Clintons. Hillary was just an infant at that time.
Now, you may recall before Maximus engaged in battle, whether at the sweeping location of Germania or before entering a coliseum to fight men as hard as statues and even tigers, he bent to the ground, scooped up a hint of dirt, and rubbed it carefully between his hands.
Why?
From a character perspective, such a small action tremendously impacts our overall impression of Maximus. It’s a subtle, ritualistic motion, certainly. However, so powerful because Earth and dirt return us to who we are, who we miss, and forges a connection to the part of our lost selves.
Rolling in your own dirt is a path to rebirth and self-awareness. And I’m not talking about bathing literally here, although I hear mud baths are healthy.
I believe Maximus rubbed dirt in his hands to focus on the present. As a farmer as well as a warrior, he understood the power of focus because FOCUS meant LIFE over DEATH until it was time for him to die.
Sometimes, death is a rebirth, albeit sad. So is the conclusion of the film. But you don’t need to die to be reborn. I mean, you can, but that would be a damn shame.
So, here’s how to stay grounded. Like a gladiator.
What kind of simple action can you take to rewire your brain to focus on where you stand and not where you stood or will stand tomorrow? For Maximus, it was dirt. For you, it may be deep breathing. For me, it’s music, writing, or listening to the wind through pine trees. Whatever it is, engaging your dirt is an appreciation for even the smallest blessings you possess today.
Identify your enemies. You have them. Work to cage the demons that cheer for you to bleed out and get a thumbs down from the Emperor. We all have an evil Emperor or entire empire inside us who seeks harm. Go ahead, name them: Complacency, procrastination, tribalism, negative self-talk. You must “WIN THE CROWD” to gain your freedom. Like Maximus the Gladiator did.
Grow something. Anything. Maximus was a farmer at heart. He loved his land and the fruits and olives that thrived within. To stay grounded, you must grow something. A new skill, a refresh (like fertilizer?). Hell, grow something literally. Gardening can be therapeutic. Growth leads to self-awareness, appreciation of gifts, and overall well-being.
We are all gladiators. That’s why the story resonates. We all fight. The internal battles are the toughest. Gladiators were willing to die not so willing to kill. I say, take your time on the death thing and kill those thoughts and feelings that crush your spirit.
Sadly, to stay grounded, you’ll also need to remove people from your lives who repeatedly test your resolve. I’ve done it. I can’t contact enough friends to play checkers, but that’s my road, my choice, my dirt.
My actions are bearing so much fruit,
Maximus would be proud.
Now it’s your turn to ground yourself like a Gladiator.
We’re living through a period of rancid word salad.
Like when pulling the baby spring lettuce you bought last year from the back of your fridge – what once was green and vibrant is now brown, drippy, and moldy.
That baby lettuce is dead.
Admittedly, some of the tactics we witness from the DC machine of word alcedama, hold enough gas to light up a small city, but, there’s a way within your brain to cleanse the words.
Yes, you are a word launderer.
A mental salad spinner that can gyrate the distress out of your harmful self-talk.
Listen, salad spinners were a big thing in the 70s and 80s.
Here are five ways to spin SPIN words to your advantage:
LESSONS vs. GIFTS – A lesson seemingly sounds bad. We tend to use the word negatively. “Boy, I learned my lesson.” But every LESSON is indeed a GIFT. Even a terrible LESSON is a huge GIFT to self-growth. Marcus Aurelius lamented – “Convince yourself that everything is a gift from the gods.”
CHORES vs. ACCOMPLISHMENTS – I get a big kick out of little things. Doing laundry, vacuuming, sweeping up the patio because I focus on the END RESULTS. Clean sheets accomplish better rest, vacuuming creates those lines in the carpet that keep me sane. Sweeping the patio clears debris so my pups can walk more easily.
LAZY vs. RECHARGE – We don’t spend enough time recharging our internal batteries. Taking a nap, getting away for a quiet lunch or reading are ways to ease the pressure. From Daily Stoic – “The mind must be given relaxation,” Seneca said, “it will rise improved and sharper after a good break. Just as rich fields must not be forced… so constant work on the anvil will fracture the force of the mind.”
OLD vs. EXPERIENCED – Personally, I disdain the word OLD. To me, it smells of giving up. It’s an excuse not to try. Mind-limiting nonsense. If you speak the word old you’ll do old things. You’ll place tight boundaries around your physical and mental growth.
SETBACK vs. BLESSING – A chronic ailment, a physical illness, every setback must spin out of your head as a blessing. Reframing setbacks as blessings leads to resiliency to face challenges. Years ago, I lost a kidney due to high blood pressure from stress during a civil lawsuit. Today, my overall kidney function is within normal limits, my weight is off 40 pounds, I exercise hard on a regular basis and my diet over the last 5 years is primarily plant-based. I’ve never been so healthy and I probably wouldn’t have been if the blessing of losing a kidney hadn’t catapulted me to a more robust physical health regimen.
Words can make or break your spirit. Especially today.
A photo of her at 40 – gray hair unevenly cut like a boy with an errant lawnmower. Wrinkles, double-chin.
Oh but that smile. In 1974 at age 40, she looked 70.
Nana was what you called a ‘custodian.’ At my Brooklyn New York public school.
PS 215. Gravesend.
Custodian: Fancy word for janitor.
She cleaned toilets. She would wave to me in the halls and I’d purposely evade her attention. Occasionally, I’d flash a courtesy furtive grin in her general direction.
But grandma? Her wide smile never quit.
I loved my grandmother. It doesn’t sound like it, but I did. With everything I had. As a boy under the childish haze of immaturity, I was embarrassed.
As an adult, I realize she was the wisest person I’ve ever known.
I’m thankful she loved me so much.
Grandma’s life lessons stick with me. At five-years-old they went in one ear, rambled around between my ears. Over time, they found a place in my brain to settle, take root. Frankly, I think her wisdom is cordoned in a mental space not even dementia could set its long, dead fingers.
So, here’s to the grandmas.
SCREW STEREOTYPES – Nellie loved people for who they were, not their appearances. Many days I recall her providing food to families at the school who were having financial difficulties. Often, she’d provide lunch money to students who forgot theirs at home. Grandma held fundraisers for the less fortunate and ironically, she was one of the less fortunate.
BE NURTURING TO CHILDREN – Nellie would dress as Santa every year, saunter down the school halls in full beard, drag a sack and hand out pounds of candy to the kids in every classroom. The students and teachers loved her for it. Even the principal. Can you imagine someone dressing as Santa delivering candy at a public school today? So politically incorrect. You’d be fired – possibly arrested.
BE PROUD OF WHO YOU ARE – Grandma dressed matronly, slovenly at times. Yet her heart was thread in gold. I’ll never forget her battleship gray and white-collared school uniform that made her appear twenty years older. People couldn’t care less. Neither did she.
MAKE A KILLER BLT – Grandma wasn’t a cook, she was a worker. She helped support a family – brothers and sisters at a young age. She owned businesses, made dolls, spent hours on charities. But those BLTs. To die for. I know her secret to a mind-blowing sandwich and I’ll take it to the grave. Cook or make sandwiches for the ones you love.
SMILE & SAY HELLO – Nellie’s bedroom window faced a busy street. It was a little, unassuming house in a row. Today, all gone, replaced by a high-rise. One of her favorite pastimes was to sit on a high stool at the bedroom window and listen to a beat up AM radio and her favorite station (1010 WINS – GIVE US 22 MINUTES, WE’LL GIVE YOU THE WORLD). She’d watch people walk by. There was always a wave, sometimes a hearty hello and a smile. Even when people didn’t return the courtesy.
SAVE, SAVE, SAVE – Grandma was a Depression-era kid. Nothing went to waste. She wasn’t a hoarder; she just found a use for everything. My grandfather abhorred how she’d have him pull over the Ford Maverick because a salvageable treasure in a neighbor’s garbage out by the curve caught her keen eye. One year she found the coolest red wooden sleigh complete with ornate wood-carved reindeer. We had to lug it ten blocks to her house.
EASY FORGIVE – My dad was always out on the town with some gorgeous woman two decades younger. He’d tell grandma he was coming by and never show. She would shake her head and lament that’s my Benny, smile and move on. She told me – ‘you can’t control what others do. Only what you do.’
ENCOURAGE – Grandma always told me I could do what I want. I was smart enough. I could be the first in the family to attend college. She owned multiple businesses in the 1950s – a laundromat, a candy store. It was rare for a woman to take the bull by the horns. I think unfortunately, grandpa killed her spirit so she relented and gave up the businesses. Men weren’t excited about their wives doing better than they were. Unfortunately, I think that’s somewhat true today.
BE A GOOD FRIEND – Nellie was a loyal and loved her friends. She listened, supported and engaged. And most important…
TODAY IS EVERY DAY – Grandma’s shot at Stoicism. She wasn’t educated but she was wise. This lesson remains the most challenging and the most valuable. If I talked about my future or grew frustrated by my current situation, Nellie advised me to make the best of it, learn from the experience.
Today is all that counts.
Today is everyday.
Then she’d give me a hug.
And a BLT.
Sometimes, all you need is a hug and a sandwich by loving hands.
Random Thoughts of a Money Muse 