What Would Make This The Best Day Of Your Life?

As I was on my morning walk through a local park, I pondered the question "What would have to be true in order for this to be the best day of my life?" and various thoughts popped in about tropical beaches, being with my family, etc. etc. and then it hit me. What would have to be true for *this* day to be the best day of my life, would be that I would need to be asking "What would have to be true in order for this to be the best day of my life?"! I thought about this for a few moments, and was hit by the epiphany. The fact that I am asking the question means that I have jumped onto a path, that if continuously followed, would cause every day to be the best possible day. I guess that I could start mincing words and ask what "best" really means, and there are days that can never be topped, like the day your kid is born and all that, but I guess what the properly worded version of the question would be is "What would have to be true in order for my actions on this day to be perfectly aligned with my values". Yeah, I think that is better - and it demands that you have already clarified your values and the obligations that you have to fulfill to be true to those values. If you value something, but you do not enjoy the obligations to support that value, then perhaps you need to question the value. For example, if  I value having a beautiful home, but while I am cleaning, I am grumbling the whole time, then if I remember what I value, suddenly the cleaning becomes like a meditation. Everything is aligned. I value a clean house, therefore, I am performing exactly the action that is required in order to be true to my value. Ok, where was I...oh, best day of my life, yeah yeah - ok, so if you have clarified your values, then you can clarify the obligations you have to be true to those values. If you have clarified your obligations, then as long as you are engaging in those obligations, every day of your life will be as close as possible to the best day of your life. Now, here is something interesting that happens - when we start to write down what we value, we find that our values tend to be "good". ie: it is highly unlikely that you will write down "I value being drunk". Then, the next time you are drunk, you can look at your values and feel the cognitive dissonance between your values and your inability to fulfill the obligations to them due to your inebriated state. boy, I am far afield here. That's enough.

Is Sympathy Even The Right Approach?

There are some things in the physical world that we cannot wrap our heads around. We know that the universe is really, really large and we know that quantum mechanics deals with things that are really, really small. We know the double-slit experiment is mystifying. But the pain felt by a parent's loss of a child is so much more incomprehensible than anything. People close to someone going through this are completely ill-equipped to even know what needs to be provided, let alone having the ability to provide it. Recently a family member received the paralyzing phone call in wee hours of the morning that their 19 year old son had died in a car accident. I had witnessed this happening to a mother and father once before in my life, and the experience after the countless hours huddled in a hospital waiting room until the doctor finally "called it" is scorched into my memory as a feeling of complete entrapment and helplessness. You no longer exist in the world, you are enveloped by it. The amplitude and quantity of raw emotion produced by the realization of what has happened, even for a friend of the family requires every synapse and neuron in a body to process. Attempting to even describe this experience with words like Tsunami, Flood, Avalanche, or the like is not even approaching the feeling because it implies that there is still an earth to stand on underneath these events.

Although my wife and I sense that the only real power that we have is to "be there" and provide a spiritual energy field to capture pain waves emitted from the family, we also feel that we should send *something* physical across the country along with our daughter, whose boyfriend's brother has just died. This is where my adventure in the "Sympathy" section of the greeting card rack begins.

In the car on the way to the store, my wife reminded me about the type of card that I should be looking for, to which I responded "I think I can handle this one." then shot a testosterone ray at the dashboard,  vaporizing the GPS and powered through to the store. I picked up the first card that looked, for whatever reason, like it might be the card that would provide the needed "Sympathy".

I opened it.

Although I held no criteria for judging which card would be the correct one, I had a jolting feeling of the supreme inadequacy that what I was holding in my hand would improve whatever thing I can't understand that I sensed they needed assistance improving. It was so painfully obvious that this was not working that I had to shake my head. There is no section in the card rack for "Loss of a Child" so I entirely blame myself for trying to use simple arithmetic to do string theory. However, I decided to press on.

"You need..."? What chutzpah this grand poo-bah of consolation, "The sympathy card" has to tell someone in mourning what they need! This is like sending Steve Balmer from Microsoft to barge through their front door. No. This will never do. I began to realize that there is only one criterion - the card with the fewest words. I was looking for a card that would draw their attention, but nothing else. It would not command, suggest, uplift, commiserate, or...sympathize.

It most certainly would not provide an emotional forecast.

At about this time, my 7 year old son provided his choice for consolation.

Who am I to ignore an opportunity to enjoy my child's innocence considering the existential void that is being suffered by these parents? "Freeze this moment a little bit longer. Make each sensation a little bit stronger." - (Time Stand Still by Rush). May God bless you Neil Peart. Everything helps right now, especially from a father with...experience. I focused my attention back on the rack, and noticed that I was impregnating every attribute of each card with hope that it would provide some sort of positive indicator that it will provide...something positive. The typeface. The color. The texture. The image, embroidery, layout, content. Each became a metric in this impossible pursuit. Until I finally accepted that the impedance mismatch between the solution domain and the problem domain was irreconcilable. For the first time ever my wife was right, and I was wrong: I *couldn't* handle this. Meeting me at the card rack, ostensibly to figure out what was taking me so long, she reached in and plucked one out and walked to the register as if she already understood the meaninglessness of the content of any selected card. Something that I had been discovering for the past 15 minutes. 

So, there it is. The least ineffective of them all.