Spontaneity as Intention – Heart First

What kind of doublespeak have I gotten up to here?

I’m not sure if I intended to be spontaneous, or my spontaneity reflects my intention to live life to it’s fullest, but either way, life is demonstrating that when heart first actions are taken, the rewards are great.

I had an unexpected outreach from an old friend yesterday, across the work email transom – just a thoughtful “I see you and what you’ve accomplished and wanted to let you know that I’m celebrating you and remember when we were friends…” Such a simple and uplifting missive to send and I’m so grateful to have reconnected.

I may have to blame my open-to-positive framing on the reading/listening I’ve been doing lately. Two excellent books were recommended to me by colleagues: Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin, followed by The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry by the same author. Both engaged my heart and brain during my long road trip in New England, and back in LA on my short commute to work. Both reminded me of how we tend to ignore or due to the exigencies of work and life, overlook the truly important things in our lives, those connections we have with friends and family.

As Zevin writes in The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry:

It’s a well known fact that hate shows up on your face after 40.

Gabrielle Zevin – The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry

As a terminally positive person, I think the converse is true that love is visible as well. Recently, I’ve been making a concerted effort to go heart first into each day. This has meant making the time to make calls to friends; if one stays flexible, spontaneous adventures can follow. I’m heading for Champaign, IL for the July Fourth holiday. I’m looking forward to a quick visit with old friends to see their reimagined lives in the midwest. It will also help to take my mind off the demise of so many of our hallowed institutions as wrought by the Conservative Supreme Court. This week was really tough, as student debt relief, Affirmative Action, and LGBTQ protections were cancelled by the conservative majority on the court. Lest hate darken my features, though, I’m going to think forward to the next few days Thus quoth Pollyanna.

The funniest thing happened around the non-planning of this trip. I apparently didn’t confirm the trip though I received a confirmation code. Thursday night, when I didn’t get the prompt to check in for the flight, I reached out to the airline and discovered that I hadn’t actually successfully booked the ticket. In a panic, and using an app that was glitchy to say the least, I was able to book the flight for tonight rather than Friday night. I’ll arrive in Chicago on Sunday morning. Sunday morning is when Nascar is taking over Chicago. Train from ORD to Champaign and an Uber from ORD to Union Station. “Don’t get in a Nascar Uber,” warned my droll friend, Tina. I can’t wait to meet their geese, all of whom are named George.

Meanwhile, my husband thoughtfully (posthumously) endorsed my weekend travel to Chicago. In yesterday’s mail, I opened a SAG-AFTRA residual check which will completely pay for the trip. It’s not the first time that his career has provided me a check from beyond to help me realize a goal. Thoughtful in life, thoughtful in death.

Yesterday’s outreach from the friend via email jostled my memory of a time when we had corresponded after college. It was when I was living in Venice, Italy for a little more than a year, and had taken a job as a docent at the Peggy Guggenheim museum. I went back to look through my journal for that time, but couldn’t find his letter which I remembered had had charming drawings on it. Instead, though, I found a letter from another friend with whom I’d recently reconnected at the 45th reunion of SPS. That letter, the envelope of which was illustrated with beautiful angel, was something I cherished upon receipt right before Christmas in 1982. At the time, I’d been in Venice only about 2 months, and was preparing for a visit on Christmas day from my Mom. Now, forty plus years later, I decided this letter was a “source” document about the friend’s development as an artist, person, and friend.

In re-reading it, I both celebrated our recent reconnection, but also mourned the intermission in our friendship over the intervening decades. Finding that letter gave me the push to send her some puppets I had known she would find valuable and so I boxed them up to send off today.

Zevin’s books reminded me like nothing I’ve read in recent time how fragile a life and love can be. It’s given me an appreciation and a renewed vigor in seeing that fragility and pushing past it to get to the love. As a read I heartily recommend it. As a practice, heart first brings its own rewards.