Do Something That Matters

Morning News, Jan. 4--Art by Rebecca J. Hartman

This morning, the clouds stretch so cold and sheer, so translucent, that clear blue shows through the wisps.

In winter we are saved by unexpected color that appears against backgrounds otherwise so bland, so mediocre or lifeless, that we are, as C.S. Lewis phrased it, “surprised by joy,” both in nature and human nature.

Set aside for a moment the tyrants, the foolish, the hollow men who wield cruel power.

We are looking for the opposite: people who give land for conservancy or food for sustenance—who give credit to others, who make art and entertainment that lift us up—those who work to sustain environments and families and communities through educated and strong commitment.

If we are tuned in to sports, we have been surprised by Fernando Mendoza’s Heisman acceptance speech, which shone with such decent goodness that we could suddenly recall all that ‘standards of behavior’ once meant, how gratefulness and graciousness once defined those we admired. In past weeks, those paying attention have witnessed, not only Mendoza’s skill, but his respect for opponents and teammates, for his family and his beliefs.

If we notice literature or publishing, we have been surprised to see books emerge, self-published from unknown authors, eventually landing on best-seller lists. We are awed to see that something neither marketed nor ‘branded’ still can rise up authentically and spontaneously by word of mouth as a beacon of goodwill—like Theo of Golden by Allen Levi.

We can listen to music compositions which no longer need anyone’s permission for exposure (David Levine, Music Heals/Substack).

If we follow history or entertainment, we can watch perfectly crafted documentaries display the art of documentation itself, as well as the subjects detailed. For example, in The End of an Era, we see (behind the scenes) a tour that stretches across two years, 149 dates, and 21 countries, grossing over $2 billion in ticket sales, a tour that built not only economies, but communities of substance. Those paying attention know, as Taylor Swift says in the last episode of the documentary, that the Eras Tour was something that mattered.

In these instances, we notice that when we raise the bar for excellence and beauty and behavior, when we value the process of creating a product or project or performance, when we spread resources and praise for what has been created collectively, when we build communities of goodwill where people are invited in, not excluded, we are surprised by joy.

I am not a sports or music aficionado, nor a Swiftie, as millions of others clearly are, but I am increasingly grateful for and impressed by role-models. They are springing up when they are most needed with the energy of their passions and their paths. They are reminders that when we know our strengths and stay on our journeys, color and light can defeat darkness and despair.

Most people, early in their childhoods, choose their dreams and paths because of what they value and love. How excellent it is to give those around us permission and encouragement to do their jobs and be themselves: to be their natural size, to revel in their identities, to bring forward their individual artistic expressions. It is a gift to see and honor others this way—as Swift does, as Fernando Mendoza does, as David Levine and Allen Levi have.

Every one of us could give such permission and encouragement to ourselves and others every day.

When we are curious and non-judgmental (thank you, Ted Lasso, for articulating how the two go together), we become kind and connected. Alienation only brings meanness of spirit.

Each time we find ourselves surprised by joy, even in the most difficult times, we recognize a transformation. We come alive when we create and connect. We become charged-up and grateful. That is how we can discern something that matters. That is how we do something that matters.

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Evening Note, Jan. 4

Outside 

in evening,

tree limbs raise arms skyward 

                            like dancers. 

Thin branches rise along the bank

and their reflections, 

like performers bowing, 

dive into calm water.

Inside

the clock ticks

across spaces where

otherwise

silence lives.

After holidays,

only hollow-days

swell 

to fill a space that stretches

into grey.

This new year we face

messy masses of unlovables

and wonder again:

What is the answer 

for having so little power? 

The cure is 

as it’s always been:

to love what we can love 

and laud what we can laud

to do what we can do--

that is, do something that matters.

Surprised by joy,

take your bow

in your own quiet space,

transformed

by gifts given.