Why you [and me] matter

I’ve been thinking quite a bit about my place in the world lately. What role I want to play. About how the world needs me to be who I’m meant to be. How “a rising tide lifts all boats.” How fulfilling my creator (or whatever God you worship — I’m still not sure) will also fulfill me.

I used to play with this mindset where I would consider (in what seemed like a domineering way) the fact that everything mattered, but if that were true it was almost the same thing as saying that nothing mattered. It’s like saying everyone is special, but if that’s the case…well, no one is.

The other day my best friend texted me and asked what my New Year’s resolution is. I almost didn’t want to answer, because although I had been mulling different resolutions around, I wasn’t quite ready to definitively say one. Regardless, I crossed the street and shot her a text back, “To pretend that everything matters.” It sounds somewhat morbid, doesn’t it? That I would have to pretend such a thing. But soon after I sent that text and rolled the idea around in my head for the millionth time, all of these tiny moments that already existed started to present themself in a new way. Or I guess I just felt them in a new way because instead of just noticing them, I started using them.

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I recently came across this YouTube video called Why YOU Matter A LOT. At one point, the guy talked about dominos and showed this demonstration on how a single domino can knock over another domino that is about one and a half times its size. So in just 29 dominos, a starting domino that is only 5mm high and 1mm thick could end up knocking over a domino the size of the empire state building.

It makes me think of my daily encounters with the homeless men I see when I walk to and from work. There is one I always wave at, and he always waves at me. We’ve actually had this friendly exchange for about a year now, and honestly it’s quite funny — we need each other in some small but significant way. I know it makes both of our days to acknowledge each other from our very different worlds, without interfering. We share a silent understanding.

The other day however, he started walking towards me from his median, and handed me a large green bracelet. He told me, “Here take this one. It has a lot of stories and is cutting into my wrist.” Rolling up his sleeve, he showed me all of the other bracelets he had, and ya know what? None of them were cutting into his wrist. He clearly just wanted me to have something of his.

To you this encounter may seem weird or insignificant. You may think I need to be more careful. But this small moment meant a lot to me. It made me giddy. It restored within me the simplest truth of human connection, not tied down by expectations or selfishness. This isn’t even the first interesting connection I’ve had with my homeless men, but it lit something inside me that consequentially made a difference in the way I’ve treated everyone I’ve come across since then.

Like a domino effect, we’re all touching each other in one way or another.

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One of my favorite books is this sci fi novel called the Genius Plague by David Walters. I won’t bore you with a total synopsis of the book, but basically the plot is that there is this fungus that invades the brains of all of these unconnected people, and because of that the infected people start working together in ways that to the naked eye seem unrelated and chaotic. This is because the main goal of the fungus is to protect the Amazon, where its home is. The fungus is working through people as one organism in different bodies to try and stop deforestation and anything else that may put its life in jeopardy.

I love this book because on the surface it parallels this idea of the collective conscious, which “refers to structures of the unconscious mind which are shared among beings of the same species.” Now to be honest this entire collective conscious concept is something that I can more so feel than explain, so I won’t try.

I bet you can feel it too though.

It’s like there’s this energy flowing through all of us where we’re all affecting each other in ways we can’t quite understand. We’re all changing the attitudes and environment around us more than we can ever truly know.

It reminds me of yoga. Back when I lived in Mobile, I went to this hot yoga class that was absolutely packed. A lot of us were beginners, but there were also some tried and true yogis in there. Regardless of experience we eventually (after going through all of the poses a couple of times) all found our flow. The teacher was calling out one pose to the next at a faster and faster tempo, and we all rhythmically moved as one. It’s weird, when I look back at that class, I see it from a bird’s-eye view. I don’t know why or how, but I see us all from above, kicking our legs up collectively to go into a lunge and do sun salutations. It was beautiful.

Yesterday I went to a yoga class and felt that exact same way. There is something spiritual about yoga, and it can honestly seem a bit tribal if you’ve never been or don’t necessarily fit the status quo. I get that. But this class seemed to transcend boundaries. I don’t know what it was — whether it’s all this internal soul searching I’ve been doing or what — but I felt so moved and connected and at peace with both myself and the strangers around me during that hour. I even tried to thank the instructor after and started tearing up. Something about it made me so damn happy.

This is why when someone is in a bad mood, it can rub off on you. Or when someone’s particularly uplifting, we enjoy being around them because it elevates our mood too. It’s why when you focus on being happy for others, it lifts you up as well. It’s like I said before, a rising tide lifts all boats. Well, John F. Kennedy said it, and he was talking about the economy…but still.

See, this is why everything actually does matter. Because the simple things you do and the way you do them, really do have an impact. We’re all ultimately one, going through the exact same things, even when we feel most alone. It’s the whole “pay it forward” notion without even realizing that it’s happening.

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About a year ago, I had this epiphany. I all the sudden understood that I was a baby coming into who I was meant to be. Because after all of this damn thinking I do on a consistent basis, I have all of this understanding within me that I’m not yet great at executing. And although I have grown immensely stronger (comically due to my weaknesses), I still have a very far ways to go. I likely always will, which is fine because striving towards my values is what makes them so admirable and important. In fact, I don’t want to reach the end. I want to enjoy the ever-evolving process.

I’m like a child learning to speak. Because although a child can understand everything being said to them, it takes a while for them to form the right words on their own.

Recently, when I was watching Mad Men, Don Draper told Peggy (who is assigned to write copy for a client), “Just think deeply about it…and then let it go. And something will come to you.”

I feel like that’s what I have been learning to do for most of my life — quiet the noise, see beyond all the surface bullshit, and let the answers come to me. I’m beginning to reach that reflective point where I can see that everything actually does matter. Not in a way that pressurizes life, but in a way that makes it all more beautiful and meaningful. That line from Mad Men matters, the bracelet Kris (my homeless guy) gave me matters, the amaryllis my mother gave me —that blooms even when I’m not around — matters. The things I share here matter. Saying good morning to people in my office matters. The small decisions I make throughout my day matter. It’s all important — it’s magical.

It’s meaningful. And dare I even say it? It nudges me towards my purpose.

It’s all impacting me and making me who I am. Which means that it’s impacting you as well.

I’m not saying this makes life butterflies and rainbows all the time, but I am saying it’s a light, if you let it be. What’s more, it’s always there when you need it to be.