The Faces of God

Just back from my grueling but most enjoyable trip up and down the East Coast, about 1500 miles over 7 days. I ended up with ten planned meetings, and some significant hanging out with another dozen or so folks, mostly family.

I have continued to think about what both Atul Gawande (in Being Mortal) and Daniel Pink (in When) have said about how people trim down their circles of friends and acquaintances as they age. It makes a lot of sense, and feels right. Older people don't need broad social circles as they did when they were younger. We don't need the ego validation. We know who we are, for better or worse, and if we are fortunate we have made peace with that. The fortunate amongst us also have the economic security that makes us have less need of the instrumental advantages of broad networks, who can do what for us, and vice versa.

And yet, and yet... There is still something beautiful and special in talking to people. By way of contrast, books or other bits of media offer us moment in time distillations of another person's consciousness, or, rather, the honed product of someone's deliberate and considered labor over a long period of time. But the person him or herself, that's something else entirely.

I know I know, we never quite get that either, as we are all continually performing ourselves for others, fronting, dipping, darting, acting out our longings and insecurities in ways we can't ourselves have half a handle on, so the person him or herself is itself a mythical being akin to Snuffleupagus, but having access to and dialogue with lots of people is a special thing, much like the Borges character who falls down the stairs, hits his head, and sees all of Being beaming out from one of the risers above. That's what we can get if we are both lucky and diligent.

But it takes work, and lord knows I'm tired now.