I know a Bad Man. He is 85 and has lived a Bad Life.
He would never, no matter how swollen someone’s penis was, ask anyone if they think he is a Good Person. He isn’t and he knows it.
And no one, no matter how swollen they were, would ever say to this guy, “Well, you’re not so bad. You’re a GP™.” He isn’t and everyone knows it.
This guy is dying now. It’s St. Patrick’s Day and he’s probably looking at his last summer.
He recently told someone he believes he will have a painful death. He’s also refusing pain medication. We’ll see how long that lasts.
But here is the thing.
In the end, distractions fall away. There is almost nothing left for this guy. Nothing to be selfish about. Nothing left to be cruel about. Or neglectful. There is no one left who cares what he thinks. Or says. Or does.
He can’t withhold anything because he doesn’t have anything anyone wants or needs. There is no one to neglect or abandon because no one is relying on him anymore. He doesn’t have anything, not even a future.
There he is with, essentially, nothing but a body fully of sickness.
Of course, his body is also full of life: his life. His cells are stuffed with it. His deeds. Memories. Ghosts. His cells are jam packed with his past.
There you go. Robbed of distractions. Saddled with the past. Basking in clarity.
In this quiet and clarity, he knows.
He knows with a level of clarity that has previously not been available to him, or rather, that he has previously been able to elude, that throughout his life, he chose to do things that benefitted himself. He could have done otherwise -- not even necessarily to the exclusion of his own benefit. Just, hey, include others in the good stuff once in a while. Don’t hog the cash, the praise, the car, the house, the travel, the experiences, the kindness, the joy. And you know what? Don’t hog the fucking snacks. Everyone loves snacks.
He knows he built systems into his personality which made selfish choices routine, easy, ongoing. He built in rationalizations to keep the system running.
Lying there with clarity and death, as poets say, “his only companions,” there is no more (no pun intended) lying. No more prevaricating. He knows. And he knows that he knows.
His response is to welcome, more or less, a painful death. Many people, men for sure, think pain is cleansing.
I don’t know this empirically, but I’m sure nevertheless, when he goes he wants to leave as many of his misdeeds here as he can. He was too clever for his own good, but he was never stupid. In the end, knowing is a bitch. Everyone wants to leave clean.
My de facto definition this morning of a Good Person™, is someone who is willing to include other people in the good stuff, go a little bit out of his way for the well-being of friends.
Maybe build some systems into a personality that make actions that benefit someone else easier to choose, even routine.
I’m leery of formulas, I don’t like tips and God save us from tropes and clichés. Yet, the impulse toward what feels good is surely itself good. One such impulse, common and authentic, I believe is, “try not to be selfish.”
Lean into kind.
Kindness survives anything, and shines in moments of clarity.
It’s also – a moment of kindness – a great hedge against the impulse to have to ask someone on the way into bed, “You think I’m a, you know…”
I know a Bad Man. He is 85 and has lived a Bad Life.
He would never, no matter how swollen someone’s penis was, ask anyone if they think he is a Good Person. He isn’t and he knows it.
And no one, no matter how swollen they were, would ever say to this guy, “Well, you’re not so bad. You’re a GP™.” He isn’t and everyone knows it.
This guy is dying now. It’s St. Patrick’s Day and he’s probably looking at his last summer.
He recently told someone he believes he will have a painful death. He’s also refusing pain medication. We’ll see how long that lasts.
But here is the thing.
In the end, distractions fall away. There is almost nothing left for this guy. Nothing to be selfish about. Nothing left to be cruel about. Or neglectful. There is no one left who cares what he thinks. Or says. Or does.
He can’t withhold anything because he doesn’t have anything anyone wants or needs. There is no one to neglect or abandon because no one is relying on him anymore. He doesn’t have anything, not even a future.
There he is with, essentially, nothing but a body fully of sickness.
Of course, his body is also full of life: his life. His cells are stuffed with it. His deeds. Memories. Ghosts. His cells are jam packed with his past.
There you go. Robbed of distractions. Saddled with the past. Basking in clarity.
In this quiet and clarity, he knows.
He knows with a level of clarity that has previously not been available to him, or rather, that he has previously been able to elude, that throughout his life, he chose to do things that benefitted himself. He could have done otherwise -- not even necessarily to the exclusion of his own benefit. Just, hey, include others in the good stuff once in a while. Don’t hog the cash, the praise, the car, the house, the travel, the experiences, the kindness, the joy. And you know what? Don’t hog the fucking snacks. Everyone loves snacks.
He knows he built systems into his personality which made selfish choices routine, easy, ongoing. He built in rationalizations to keep the system running.
Lying there with clarity and death, as poets say, “his only companions,” there is no more (no pun intended) lying. No more prevaricating. He knows. And he knows that he knows.
His response is to welcome, more or less, a painful death. Many people, men for sure, think pain is cleansing.
I don’t know this empirically, but I’m sure nevertheless, when he goes he wants to leave as many of his misdeeds here as he can. He was too clever for his own good, but he was never stupid. In the end, knowing is a bitch. Everyone wants to leave clean.
My de facto definition this morning of a Good Person™, is someone who is willing to include other people in the good stuff, go a little bit out of his way for the well-being of friends.
Maybe build some systems into a personality that make actions that benefit someone else easier to choose, even routine.
I’m leery of formulas, I don’t like tips and God save us from tropes and clichés. Yet, the impulse toward what feels good is surely itself good. One such impulse, common and authentic, I believe is, “try not to be selfish.”
Lean into kind.
Kindness survives anything, and shines in moments of clarity.
It’s also – a moment of kindness – a great hedge against the impulse to have to ask someone on the way into bed, “You think I’m a, you know…”
👏🏽👏🏽