“I want to take the boys to get haircuts,” my wife texted me from upstairs.
“Go ahead,” I responded, knowing this wasn’t the reply she was hoping for. But my mother-in-law was over, and I felt certain five would be a crowd.
To my pleasant surprise, when my wife came downstairs, she had settled on the plan I had been hoping for, and the four of them shuffled off into the car, then drove off into the quickly darkening, cool and unusually windy evening.
After I heard the car drive away, I realized something strange was happening — I was in my house, alone … alone! Now, I’ve had lots of time alone out of the house, and I’ve had lots of time in the house with others, but alone … in the house … in my house … oh, the splendor, oh the sumptuousness, oh the luxury.
I suspect those of you with small children will know what I’m talking about.
Anyway, as I basked in the stillness of the house, I alternately looked out the front and back windows, watching the wind blow through the shadowy tree branches, each gust taking off hundreds of leaves and swirling them around in a kaleidoscope of shapes and shades. It was quite beautiful and quite mesmerizing, as I’m quite partial to those hallmarks of autumn.
“Time for a drink,” I thought, as I headed for the Black Label, pouring out half a tumbler, and settling on the small couch in front of the large window.
And as I sipped, I looked around, I looked outside into the beautiful trees and I looked inside into our beautiful house, and I saw a few pictures of my beautiful wife and children, and I started to feel overwhelmingly grateful for it all, and for the business (healthsystemCIO.com), and for Nancy and Kate, and for my extended family. It was so much, it was so splendid, and it was so amazing, that I started to well up.
Now, before you think I’m a crybaby, I can tell you that this kind of thing happens — or more precisely, I allow it to happen — very, very rarely. For the male of our species creates quite a coating of iron and steel around his emotional core, and only reluctantly, almost always alone, and usually with the help of alcohol, allows a lava-like vein of the core to find the surface, only to very quickly plug the gap and pretend it never happened.
But when it does happen, when you allow it to happen, it can release a very logical combination of the gratitude I described above mixed with fear of losing it all, or losing an important part of it. Tomorrow, a lump could be discovered. Tomorrow, a drunk driver might jump the curb. Tomorrow, your organization could start its imperceptible journey down the famous Kodak “Digital camera? That’s silly” road — a staple of all professional keynoters.
And the best thing I can come up with to combat this fear is to continually work to earn everything that you have, each and every day, to put sufficient effort so the cosmic “decider” continues to grant you his favor, whoever or whatever you believe that to be. And if you don’t believe in a decider, the program still works — because when you work to earn these things, it does not take reliance on the supernatural to know you are more likely to keep them. It is simply physics, or mathematics, or something like that.
So my advice to you, especially the fellas, is to from time to time, let go and think about what you’ve got. If you’ve been living a balanced life, if you’ve been a conscious actor in your world, these will be sublime moments in which you appreciate what you have and commit to keeping it. If you haven’t, they may be the only chance you’ve got to realize what matters before you fritter it all away.
Either way, reflect — really reflect, and take deep thought, which usually requires solitude. So, next the time you get the chance, grab those moments alone, and if you’re so inclined, grab the Black Label, take a look around, and take it all in.
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