The Selfless, Spiritual Nature of Paying Attention

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A recent New York Times newsletter chastised “You’re Not Paying Attention, but You Really Should Be.” The subtitle, “How to actually notice the world around you,” promised more than was delivered.

As a sociologist minded academic, I like to think I’m more observant than average. At the same time, close friends and I sometimes poke fun of the Good Wife for often driving right by us oblivious to our pointless honking and waving. She claims it’s because she’s focused straight ahead, but her awful vision probably contributes to the sometimes funny phenomenon as well.

But don’t sell her short. She picks up on things others, like me, often do not. Por exemplar, a few days ago she left this for me on my corner of the kitchen island.

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My dad died 24 years ago. If someone asked me what his favorite bird was, I would reply, “No idea.” But the Gal Pal, who interacted with him 1% of the time I did, knew.

The New York Times newsletter writer unsatisfactorily scrapes the surface when trying to teach others to pay attention.

Paying attention is one of the most concrete ways one person shows another they care for them. My wife knows my dad’s favorite bird because he was important to her. Her default is to care for everyone, but she cared even more than normal for him because he was important to me. She paid extra attention to him, and to my mom, knowing how important they were to me.

She cared for and loved me by paying extra close attention to them. There’s a spiritual component to truly paying attention that the New York Times writer misses. Paying especially close attention to the details of others’ lives is a selfless habit of mind most evident in spiritual people.

Another example. An Olympia friend of mine is visiting his wife’s family in the Midwest. He shared several pictures of her hometown online with explanatory captions. At the end, he wrote, “I was glad I stopped and took the time to find out out more about the town which played a big part in the lives of Mary, her parents, and her sisters and brothers.”

“I stopped and took the time” is the exact advice given by The New York Times writer. To pay closer attention he writes, unplug, slow down, look around. But the second half of my friend’s summary sentence, “. . . which played a big part in the lives of Mary, her parents, and her sisters and brothers,” speaks to the selfless, spiritual nature of truly paying attention.

My wife and friend are two peas in the same paying attention pod. They demonstrate genuine, heartfelt care for their closest family and friends by observing, hearing, and remembering what matters most to them.

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Left to right, less attentive, more attentive.

Weekend Assorted Links

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1. ICE Came to Take Their Neighbor. They Said No.

2. The best US soccer player does not have purple hair.

3. The Right Way to Understand White Nationalist Terrorism.

4. Twenty-five of the worst home designs ever. Caution, can’t unsee them.

5. Why is it so hard to take time off work?

6. The most deadly highways in the USofA.

7. Triathlons Fight Decline and Seek Ways to Attract the Young. Case in point, your lapsed triathlete blogger friend.

Thursday Assorted Links

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1. Toni Morrison’s global impact.

“History can be manipulated, whitewashed and rewritten, but people who have lived in history all have their stories, which no single dictator or censor can rob. Memories, kept in stories, keep history alive. And who, among American writers, is a fiercer and braver keeper of the memories that have made America the country it is today, in the most beautiful and powerful language?”

2. Scenes From the 2019 Pan American Games. Quants increasingly slice and dice sports in ever greater detail, but athletes’ passion and emotions will always resonate most.

3. The Dream of Open Borders is Real—in the High Arctic.

“In a place with open borders, crafting incentives is complex: If you make life on Svalbard appealing—with good schools, for instance, or better housing—there’s no way to guarantee that it will be Norwegians who come. At the same time, Svalbard cannot turn away anyone on account of nationality. The result, which can be easily justified with the treaty’s mandate of low taxes, is that the Norwegian government provides as little as possible: Unlike the mainland, the islands have minimal health care, child care, and housing benefits.”

4. What happens as opioid abusers hit middle age?  Where the most people die of drug overdoses—Scotland, USA, Estonia.

5. Inside the ten days, two hours it took Fiona Kolbinger to ride across Europe. Only 400k a day. Twenty four year-old cancer researcher who plays the piano and cycles a bit on the side.

6. Consumer Report Indicates Slushies Lose 35% of Their Value Within First Year of Purchase. Eldest daughters second appearance in The Onion, a satirical newspaper. Making me semi-famous.

Corrections

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I’ve been a wee bit sloppy lately.

Middle brother, who self identifies as “Smarter Brother” wrote in to say Mother Dear did not gift the Gremlin to him.

“I paid FULL blue book for that car… dad even made me pay the extra $35 for the AM/FM cassette player.”

That is the most funny thing I’ve heard in a long, long time. Middle/Smarter brother added that it took “serious game” to attract women in a purple 73 Gremlin. I concede that point.

Which begs the question, what WAS the Blue Book value?

“$1800.  I had to call the guy at the AMC dealership to get the number… I wanted to pay $1000, dad said ‘No.’  I walked up stairs and grabbed the cash and fat-stacked him at the dinner table… the look on his face was classic! He and mom always thought I was out messing around, when in fact, I was at work.”

The second most funny thing I’ve heard in a long, long time. Damn parents. Glass is always half empty.

Finally, for a correction on the driveway accident see comment #2 at the end of the “Tesla-fy What?” post .

Secondly, it’s somewhat worrisome to me that the Gal Pal informs me that we both went to see Pulp Fiction and walked out somewhere in the middle. We were in a distinct minority. Peter Travers of Rolling Stone wrote, “There’s a special kick that comes from watching something this thrillingly alive. Pulp Fiction is indisputably great.” To each is own.  

American Exceptionalism

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Our passivity towards gun violence is exceptional. Especially among developed nations.

Anthony Lane in The New Yorker on Tarantino’s current film “Once Upon a Time. . . in Hollywood”:

“. . . two things alone freaked me out. One was the sudden, insane burst of brutality that is inflicted by men upon women. And the other was the reaction of the people around me in the auditorium to that monstrosity. They laughed and clapped.”

One night in 1994, knowing it wouldn’t be the Good Wife’s cup of tea, I went to see “Pulp Fiction” by myself in Greensboro, North Carolina. In the film there were a few insane bursts of brutality inflicted by men upon men. Point blank shootings that prompted the crowd to spontaneously erupt in prolonged applause. That was deeply unsettling.

Twenty five years later I fear we’re even more desensitized to wanton gun violence.

Where does it end?

Tesla-fy What?

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Earlier this week I posted a vid about EV West, a California company that installs Tesla like electric technology into really old, but stylish cars nearing the end of their lives.

Makes me wanna go out and find a candidate for a Tesla transplant. And I have the perfect car. One of the best cars ever made in these (dis)United States. Some cars may be a little more reliable, but none more stylish. A car my family was lucky enough to own in the mid 1970s. Drum roll. . .

IMG_5732-762x456.jpgThat’s right an American Motor Corporation Gremlin in powder/purplish blue. Here’s another angle of one with a badass racing stripe.

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This was the zenith of American motor vehicle history. Why Japan’s auto companies didn’t unilaterally surrender, and how AMC didn’t make it, I’ll never know.

One warm sunny day in Cypress, CA, my two older brothers collided while repositioning the Gremlin and another one of our cars in front of our suburban tract home. I thought one of them was going to kill the other. Most funny thing I may have ever witnessed.

Middle Brother always struggled with the ladies, so feeling badly for him, moms gifted him the Gremlin before the “San Bernardino Mountains ski bum” chapter of his illustrious life. Once, while in the mountains, a falling bolder clipped our automotive masterpiece or at least that’s the story he tells.

His love life did improve after taking ownership of the Gremlin. How could it not? Similarly, I suspect I will draw much added attention after finding and Tesla-fying a Gremlin.

 

Men!

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After amazing veggie eggs benny at The Bread Peddler with J Hustle on her 24th birthday, I dipped into the Farmers’ Market on the way home because flowers for the wife makes for a nice life.

As I approached the stand, I saw a dude getting some beautiful sweet peas mixed with purple dahlias. A stylish hippy bouquet, perfect for my stylish, natural woman. After he paid, I said, “I’ll have the exact same.” A few minutes later, after scratching my signature on her iPad, she turned to a woman to the left of me and said, “You were waiting weren’t you?” Why she didn’t turn to her before helping me I am not sure.

Shit. I’m not sure I even saw her. So I said, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you.” To which she replied, “Yes you did.” Ouch. The fact of the matter is the man in front of me blew her off and I mindlessly followed his lead. That’s not an excuse, I hate getting cut off, so I was supe apologetic. “No, I really didn’t, I’m really sorry.” By now a second, also sixtyish woman, had materialized. “Men! What are you going to do?” she said to her aggrieved soul sister.

Upon further thought, I think I did see her, but I wrongly assumed she was just thinking through whether to make a purchase or not. Obviously, I should have checked with her. And of course, if I didn’t see her, that’s even worse.

I had just hit the ATM so I was flush with cash money. I thought to myself hell if I’m going to drag my gender even further down some cosmic sinkhole at the Olympia Farmers’ Market! Without Aggrieved Soul Sister hearing me, I told the flower salesperson I was going to buy her flowers*. Immediately afterwards, kid you not, my upset fellow human being grabbed a large bucket of dahlias and asked the salesperson how much all of them would be. Immediately, the salesperson shot me a big smile which communicated, “Women ONE, Men ZERO!” She counted the flowers and did the math while I braced myself for the economic redistribution to come. $28. As I handed her two twenties Aggrieved Soul Sister said, “No way, please give it to someone that needs it.” I insisted telling the salesperson to “Just give me $12 back.” Soul Sister protested again, at which point, not wanting to be too aggressive a male, I caved.

I think she and the other two women appreciated the effort. At least I hope.

Antipathy for males in society is deep-seated. Most of it is deserved, but in rightly deconstructing and criticizing toxic masculinity we have to be very careful of writing off the gender. Sometimes we run that risk when it comes to rightly criticizing men who treat others inhumanely.

Occasionally, we have to point out that some men are conscious of male privilege, don’t sexually abuse women, aren’t all ego all the time, don’t talk over women, and can even talk about emotions and admit when they’re wrong.

However, as a male, I’m not the best person or blogger to do this. Were I to start cheerleading for sensitive and caring men in the interest of some semblance of balance, it would come across as disingenuous. Kind of like a President saying “I’m the least racist person in the world.” Better that some women sporadically weave occasional, alternative, positive stories of men behaving humanely to create a more subtle, nuanced, and complex feminist narrative.

*sigh, of course sharing this story with you diminishes it, a price I’m willing to pay for just a wee bit more blogging glory

Egan Bernal > Lance Armstrong

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Bernal, Columbia’s first Tour de France winner, and at 22 years old, the youngest rider in the race, seems to be Armstrong’s opposite in every way. Granted, variety is the spice of life, but I’ll take Bernal’s soft spoken, low key humility to Armstrong’s angry brashness every day of the week. Here’s hoping fame doesn’t change him too much.