Trying Something New
The joy of personal engagement
As I sit down to write this, I hear the opening line of a great Joe Jackson song from the early ‘80s. The song is “Breaking Us in Two.” It’s about a failing relationship, but that’s not why I’m thinking about it. It’s just that opening line that I love, taken completely out of context. He sings: “Don’t you feel like trying something new?” The answer for me, in an entirely different way than the singer meant, is “Yes.”
And so, I am at a place of engagement and disengagement. I am disengaging from the work I have done for more than 40 years and from organizations I have belonged to for more than a decade. I am doing so with a great sense of gratitude for the opportunities the organizations have provided me -- to learn and practice my craft, to make a living, to support worthy causes and institutions, and to get to know many good and talented people along the way.
At the same time, I have been and will be engaging with my profession and my communities in new ways: teaching at the law school I attended and leading its alumni board; volunteering with the American Bar Association in a new, though modest, way; launching a podcast focused on the inspiring good works of others; and writing this newsletter. I also recently have had the happy privilege of reengaging with some lawyers and judges I’ve known for many years, some of whom were with me at the beginning of my career, and all of whom have had brilliant and inspiring careers of their own.
In the end, it's those personal connections that I find most rewarding. We humans, after all, are social creatures. And even we Americans, who pride ourselves on independence and self-sufficiency, are at our best and most fulfilled when we recognize and act upon our interdependence with other people.
When I was in college, I read a book by a physician named Paul Tournier. The book was called “The Meaning of Persons,” and it explained the importance of close, meaningful relationships. The book is out of print now and I no longer have my copy, but I remember one thing the author wrote that surprised me. He said, in effect, “the purpose of travel is to encounter other people.” When I think about the trips I’ve taken, both domestic and abroad, I understand and agree with Tournier’s view. I can go to new places, see new sights, and check off boxes as any tourist would, but if I haven’t connected with the people I encounter at those destinations, I have missed out on the most rewarding part of travel.
And yet it’s not just travel. We can encounter other people wherever we are. I live in a vibrant community in Southeastern Massachusetts, but I spend most of my time in my home office in front of my computer. I always have a series of Zoom and Team meetings and phone calls sprinkled throughout the week, not to mention emails and social media connections, but I am still just sitting in the same room in front of the same computer (like I’m doing as I write this). While these means of connection are efficient and superior to other remote alternatives, they are no substitute for being in the same room with the people I am connecting with. There are plenty of people in my local community I could be connecting with if I had the time and inclination to leave the comfort of my home to do so, but the ease of engaging with the world with the click of a mouse is often too alluring. If humanity is headed in the direction of full-time virtual connections, it will do so at the expense of human intimacy and genuine relatedness.
And joy. Relationships with our fellow travelers is where the joy is. Just like a plant needs good soil, water and light, those relationships need more than exclusively virtual connections in order to flourish and produce joy. We can find joy in such encounters by sharing our happy experiences or good news, and relating stories that make us laugh or inspire us to greater heights. Paradoxically, we also can experience joy in our personal encounters by lending an ear to someone’s struggles, offering kind words of support or condolence, and through our attentiveness, letting them know we truly care. But the richness of our experiences and the magnitude of the joy they create are so much greater when we are together, in the same space, than when we connect through our miraculous but impersonal tech.
The joy we derive from engaging with others is both demonstrated and discussed in a delightful book published in 2016 called “The Book of Joy.” It is writer Douglas Abrams’ account of a visit he arranged between the Dalai Lama and the late Archbishop Desmond Tutu. I originally listened to the book in its audio format, and later bought the hardcover version as well. Both are excellent, though in audio you get a much more vivid sense of the dialogue between these two great men and the joy they experienced through their close friendship. (You hear their actual conversation, but through the voices of actors playing their parts.)
In the course of their discussion, they describe the obstacles to, and the pillars of, joy. The obstacles include: fear, stress, and anxiety; frustration and anger; sadness and grief; despair; loneliness; envy; suffering and adversity; and illness and fear of death. The pillars are perspective; humility; humor; acceptance; forgiveness; gratitude; compassion; and generosity. The theme of compassion, of experiencing joy by shifting our focus from our own needs to the needs of others, recurs throughout the book, as in the following explanation from the Dalai Lama:
This concern for others is something very precious. We humans have a special brain, but this brain causes a lot of suffering because it is always thinking me, me, me, me. The more time you spend thinking about yourself, the more suffering you will experience. The incredible thing is that when we think of alleviating other people’s suffering, our own suffering is reduced. This is the true secret to happiness.
What the Dalai Lama was saying in this and other passages is that, when we are focused on our own problems, we are drawn inward in an unhealthy and destructive way. We may experience envy (“I wish I had what he had”) or self-pity (“I have been treated unfairly”). This self-concern produces a downward spiral, leading to increased levels of frustration, anger, and despair, and straining our relations with other people, even those we love. If, instead, we focus on how we might help alleviate the suffering of others, we avoid or break free from that destructive path and become agents of joy.
The suffering we are meant to ease can be large or small, visible or hidden. And here’s another secret – everyone suffers at some time or another. As a colleague once said to me, everyone has their own cross to bear. Even people we envy, those who seem better off than us, have their private struggles that we are not aware of. Reminding ourselves of this deep truth will help us avoid the obstacles to joy and instill in us the compassion, kindness, and generosity which bring out our best selves.
So, real encounters with real people in real settings. Sharing our joys with those we encounter, and listening to and supporting them as they share their joys and struggles with us. Every day and every person we meet brings an opportunity for that kind of engagement at some level. We only need to pay attention to when those opportunities arise and respond to them when they do.
If you aren’t doing this already, don’t you feel like trying something new?