Resolution

I wrote this essay seven years ago and published it in the final issue of the Pitch magazine that year, the last one edited by Scott Wilson. The title was Resolution: resignations, musings and resolutions, for a kinder year to come.

It’s weird to look back at this piece, since it concludes with me promising to shut up for a while. And I basically did. A month after this was published, I started a new job as a book editor, supporting other writers rather than publishing anything myself. By this point I have now edited nearly 200 titles, among them books by New York Times bestsellers and Eisner nominees; books by Pulitzer prize and Reuben Award-winning authors; books by poets, NFL players, cartoonists, sleep scientists; books by authors from Canada, Colombia, China, France, Spain, Scotland, England, Germany, Australia, New Zealand, and the USA. I’m proud of all that.

I do miss writing, though. Sometimes I’m sure I will go crazy if I don’t find a way to do more of it again. Writing is a release valve, as the authors and illustrators I work with well know. And while I have considered all forms of midlife crisis, weighing the merits and drawbacks of each, I think I’d rather write my way through this period of life rather than blow it up.

So, before I embark on any new ventures or series of posts, I’d like to return to that winter moment in late December 2017, when I set my intentions to stay silent and outlined a way I could become mentally and physically more healthy in the years to come. It feels like it’s from a long time ago and yet it’s strangely relevant in 2024. The only thing I’m deviating from is the conclusion. With such rampant abuses of power in the works, casual cruelty back in fashion, and promises of mass deportations and ongoing human rights crises taking place with the aid of our tax dollars, I don’t think any of us can afford to be silent.

• • • 

Resolution

2018 will be better, I keep hearing people say. I nod in agreement, as if accepting the notion that human history hews to such convenient, arbitrary increments. Then again, after a year like 2017, one can hardly be blamed for placing a certain faith in numerology and new beginnings. 

While I’ve heard my generation referred to as generation X, Y, or worse, the moniker I most identify with is “the D.O. generation” — a phrase meaning “do over” that dates back to my schoolyard kickball days. It’s not so much a belief in redemption as a demand for a second chance—the kind of second chance we like to imagine each new calendar year presents. 

But to make the most of our D.O.s in 2018, it’s best to approach the new year with renewed focus and purpose. I’d like to turn away then from historical matters and focus on the day-to-day, where I begin this 12-step interrogation of my own personal habits in the hopes that they may be of some value to others, too. 

Learn how to cook

Last week, while standing around a Weber grill cooking meat and getting faded with my friends, I lamented the fact that I’m 36 years old and still totally clueless when it comes to cooking. 

Don’t be too hard on myself, they both said. “Cooking is 65-70 percent fucking things up, figuring out where you went wrong so that you can learn from your mistakes,” one said. “The important thing is to try again.” 

When it comes to meat, my competition barbecue judge friend said, the key is to get a meat thermometer. “That takes the guesswork out of it,” he said. “It keeps you from undercooking things or overcooking and drying it out.” 

Fortunately, at this age my kids don’t really know or care that their dad’s idea of cooking is limited to sandwiches. But it sure would be nice to improve my kitchen game before they wise up and/or my wife leaves me for a James Beard nominee. (Update: still working on this one)

Find a new social network

Facebook is frustrating. I’ve spent untold hours on that site but usually come away with nothing more than a sense of having wasted time. I know my friends and family are on there somewhere, but I can hardly find them amid all the minutiae. My news feed feels trivial and manipulated. I click on shit I don’t care about. I almost want to hire someone to sift through and find the good parts for me, but so far that hasn’t proven feasible. When it comes to my own postings, I hardly trust my instincts on what to share and when. 

Even though my account is currently deactivated (for probably the 17th time) I would never tell anyone else to quit. The only thing I would add is that if you really want to connect with someone, try sending them an email instead, or at the very least a text message. I’ve heard that the iPhone 8 can even make phone calls, but you probably don’t want to risk weirding anyone out.

As an offbeat alternative — and I’m probably going to lose about 90 percent of you here —  I would like to suggest an alternate social network: dreams. Often people will show up in my dreams who I realize upon waking that I should get in touch with. And then I do. Technically, dreams are one-sided and lack the precision of a silicon valley algorithm, but to me the avatars in our subconscious feel more significant — and certainly more personal.

Practice moderation 

There are habits, indulgences, and pastimes I consider swearing off completely, but ultimately decide life would lack color and character without. Instead, I try to remind myself to aim for moderation. Or, if you prefer a different term, “balance.” I can’t think of any situations in life that couldn’t be improved by taking a more balanced approach. 

Stargaze

The phrase “night life” usually conjures images of going out at night and having fun in the city. But night life can also mean embracing the warmth and darkness of the natural night — camping, stargazing, generally being absorbed in the nocturnal. Every once in a while I’ll see a story about how the night sky is disappearing, how artificial light has obscured our view of the Milky Way in most of the country. It’s hard not to wonder about the psychological effects of such a phenomenon. Fortunately for us, vast expanses of semi-unpolluted light are still within driving distance. I hope to visit more of them soon. 

Find a workable read/sleep strategy

I often complain about not reading as much as I want to, or sleeping as much as I need to. But what if I pitted the two activities against each other in a strategic tug of war? When you read at night, it’s a win-win. Either you work your way through a text you’ve wanted to tackle for a while, or you get some needed sleep instead. And when you really want to avoid falling asleep while reading, try reading standing up. That’s how I got through Thomas Mann’s “The Magic Mountain.” It’s easy to be bold when starting a new book, but some literary challenges are too steep to face sitting (or laying) down. 

Resist Nostalgia

After my wife and I bought a new bed to replace our worn-out mattress and box frame, my 3-year-old son started crying. “I liked the old bed!” he said. Relax, we told him. It’s hasn’t even been replaced yet and it’s not even your bed. 

His protests were illogical and literally childish, but maybe not all that different from my own resistance to change. 

So much of the time we’re reluctant to mix things up. We go to the places we always have, have the same conversations, listen to or read the same stuff. But each of us is always changing, occasionally questioning the foundations, habits and tastes we’ve thus far built our identities on. 

When it comes to old friends, instead of automatically expecting the same comfort and familiarity we’ve shared in the past, I try to base our exchanges in the present, finding the new within the familiar. As Rilke once wrote, “The transformed speaks only to relinquishers. All holders-on are stranglers.” But I probably won’t share that particular poem with my son until he’s 4. 

Send actual mail

It’s fun to send and receive mail. And it only costs 49 cents. Considering the length an envelope may travel and the potential value of the exchange, it might just be one of the best bargains in America. 

Enjoy your natural surroundings before they disappear

While I absolutely believe we should do everything we can to physically preserve our natural surroundings, perhaps the best thing to do is make the most of them while they are still here. Whether it’s a simple stroll along Cliff Drive on a weekend or a trip to a faraway, not-yet-flooded beach, I hope to appreciate the natural world as much as possible in 2018. 

Support good journalism

Last year, when coming up with slogans for a protest rally I ultimately did not attend, I settled on “DON’T BELIEVE ANYONE WHO TELLS YOU REALITY ISN’T REAL” A bit cumbersome a phrase for my poster board, but I stand by the sentiment. I’ve read more good journalism in the past year than the previous several years combined. Ponying up for a newspaper paywall or otherwise supporting reporting isn’t something we’re necessarily used to, but in a post net-neutrality era of lies and disinformation, it’s more important now than ever. 

Act when you can; don’t worry (too much) about what you can’t control 

After I posted an angry political screed on Facebook earlier this year, a friend wrote, “Thanks for sharing! Let us know if you make any progress on figuring out how to best take action on these issues.” On the surface, her comment was supportive, but I also detected a sly challenge. Something along the lines of, “Hey, maybe figure some shit out before you post instead of just wringing your hands and saying you don’t know what to do.”

Six months later, I still don’t know what to do. But I got a clue the other day while listening to (of all things) the “Sing-A-Longs and Lullabies for the Film Curious George” soundtrack by Jack Johnson. My son listens to this CD all the time. The track he plays the most is “With My Own Two Hands,” a duet with Ben Harper. The lyrics are: “I can change the world, with my own two hands / Make it a better place, with my own two hands / Make it a kinder place, with my own two hands.”

Simple stuff — innocent and hopeful in a way you’d expect a kids’ album to be. But listening to it with my son as he crouches on his knees and rocks back and forth listening attentively, my disaffected grown-up facade dissolves and I can hear a message containing hope, common sense and maybe even something of a solution. 

We can only control what we can control. I can’t singlehandedly stop the tax bill, replace a corrupt senator or chase away global warming. But there are many small things I can do, and also lots of people around me whose causes and organizations I can get involved in today. In 2018, I’m going to try to tune out the big, awful things and focus on the small, immediate and positive. Who knows what those things might add up to?  

Meditate

I know, I know —  no one wants to read another article about the benefits of meditation. I was skeptical as well, if not of the practice itself than of those espousing it. But after giving it a try — sitting still, upright and focusing on my breath for anywhere from 12 to 20 minutes — I felt an improved ability to focus, think clearly and not fidget too much in meetings. Is my mind totally blank? Not at all. But as the minutes go by, I find myself mentally x-ing out of all the tabs I didn’t realize were open. As the zen master Dogen once wrote, “If you cannot find the truth right where you are, where else do you expect to find it? (update: I don’t think I’ve meditated once since this article came out. I probably should!)

Listen

Though I’ve worked hard (at times) and tried to make the most of my opportunities, there’s no denying I’m a product of privilege. In high school, a friend of mine used to say things like “I just wish I could cut off my arm so I knew what it was like to feel real suffering.” His statements were completely ridiculous, but I also understood his point — how do you gain an understanding of actual hardship if you’ve been insulated from it? 

In his book, “Awareness,” Jesuit priest Anthony de Mello addresses that exact question: “If you haven’t been bumped sufficiently by life, and you haven’t suffered enough, then there is another way: to listen.” But, he continues, “are you listening for what will confirm what you already think? Or are you listening in order to discover something new?” 

As a straight, white male in 2017, it’s pretty clear to me that my holding forth on matters is not what the moment calls for. Instead, I’m trying to read as much as I can about other people’s experiences, perspectives, and challenges, learning about the hardships they face while recognizing the way our systems and structures give people like me so many advantages. 

As de Mello notes, it can be especially difficult to listen when things are disturbing, involve change, or involve admitting we are wrong. But that’s also when it’s most important to do so. This year I hope to read and listen more than speak. In fact, I promise to start doing so just as soon as I finish this article. Which should be right about…. now.