What Do You Want?

“I can teach anybody how to get what they want out of life. The problem is that I can't find anybody who can tell me what they want.” —Mark Twain

I’m embarrassed by the number of books on my shelf that share the basic theme of “getting what you want out of life.” You know that ones that start: 5 Easy Steps to This, or 7 Keys to That. And you know what’s even more embarrassing? I’ve read every one of these Be Successful, Be Happy, Be Pretty, Be Blessed, etc. books on that shelf.

I haven’t seen the movie “Gone Girl”; yet. I read the book, and upon completing it, threw it across the room. But I will see the movie. I want to see what director David Fincher does with Gillian Flynn’s screenplay. I’m thinking that the most terrifying thing about this story is there doesn’t seem to be a character in it who has a single worthy aspiration.

Death of a Salesman” is story sort of like that. Poor Willy Loman. I can’t think of a fate worse than having your own son stand over your grave and proclaim of you, “He had all the wrong dreams!”

So, if Mr. Twain could make good on his bold promise,
what would you tell him you want?

I think it is a “big picture” question—you know; not a question like: what do you want to do this weekend, but rather, what do you want them to say about you at your funeral.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve been involved in a project called “Storyline”. One of the things I’m learning is that stories (and each of our lives is a story) are either comedies or tragedies. That sounds so reductionist;at first, I refused to accept it. But it’s not as simple as it sounds, even though it’s basically about happy endings and sad endings.

Why would anyone choose a tragic story for their own life? An example: in 30+ years of working with teenagers, many times I saw kids choose a destructive path, sometimes, at least partly, to spite their parents for divorcing and fracturing their family. Not to say that happens every time—it’s just an example.

Many times tragic stories seem to be the only option someone has. Gilda Radner of the original cast of “Saturday Night Live” wrote upon learning of her terminal cancer: “I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned the hard way, that some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle and end.”

Back to the abiding words of Mr. Twain, and his scenario of having a mentor or guide who can, not only tell someone how to get what they want out of life, but help them discover what they REALLY want; consider this advice:

Walk right side: safe,
Walk left side: safe,
Walk middle: SQUISH!
—Mr. Miyagi

Not only did Mr. Miyagi show Daniel-san how to win tournament, and get girl; he taught him to aspire to a balanced life. (And to economize speech by eliminating parts of speech like prepositions and articles.)

There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One of these is roots, the other, wings. —Goeth

Maybe that’s what I would tell Mark Twain: I want roots and wings. And I want to be known as someone who helped others find their roots and wings. If that’s not too much to ask. Oh, and it would be really useful to learn that rapid hand-rubbing thing Mr. Miyagi does to help aching joints and muscles.

 

 

All The Wrong Dreams?

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Philip Seymour Hoffman was, without question, one of the great acting talents of our time, playing a wide variety of roles like Truman Capote, which earned him an Oscar, and Willy Loman in Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman on Broadway in 2012. I recently watched a film he did, also in 2012, with Christopher Walken called, A Late Quartet. The title comes from Beethoven's "late" string quartets. Watch the trailer here.

These quartets were written by Beethoven late in life and are amazing, especially given the fact that Beethoven was deaf by the time he wrote them. Did you hear that? He was deaf when he composed some of the most beautiful music ever written.

The play Death of a Salesman is a modern tragedy by Arthur Miller. The protagonist is a guy named Willy Loman who, in the years following The Great Depression, is a firm believer in the American Dream. Without going in to the whole story, suffice to say, it, like all tragedies, doesn't end well. His son at the graveside of his father has this to say of his father's life: “He had all the wrong dreams. All, all Wrong.”

NPR this morning aired an interview with Hoffman about his portrayal of Willy Loman. The interviewer asked Hoffman if playing Willy had had an impact on him personally:

"He has two sons who are kind of impressive," Hoffman says. "They're beautiful, talented, physically gifted, but he's not. He's none of those things. I think Willy probably was like that when he was young, but he had no sense of himself. He's never had a sense of himself. He's been cobbling together a narrative from birth."

Hoffman also acknowledges it's easy to judge Loman and the choices he's made. Early in life, the character might have had an opportunity for adventure, but he turned that aside in order to get security. When he learns, at the end of life, that he can't pay his bills or even hold on to his job, it's heartbreaking.

But Hoffman says Loman's struggle is not without value.

"He really did give his life for his sons," Hoffman says. "He didn't do it in a way that's effective, or got what he wanted, or actually nurtured his sons in a way that was going to help them, but he did."

Hoffman, who has three children of his own, says the play is one that provokes thinking on all aspects of life, including family.

"It really seeps into why we're here," Hoffman says. "What are we doing, family, work, friends, hopes, dreams, careers, what's happiness, what's success, what does it mean, is it important, how do you get it?"

Connecting all these themes together, Hoffman says that ultimately, the play is about wanting to be loved. 

In the movie, A Late Quartet, there is a scene on a subway train where a young girl is speaking. She seems to be speaking philosophically about  old guys. Then you realize she's reading from a poster on the train. I paused the movie to try to read the poster and found it was a poem called Old Men by Ogden Nash

People expect old men to die, 
They do not really mourn old men. 
Old men are different. People look 
At them with eyes that wonder when… 
People watch with unshocked eyes; 
But the old men know when an old man dies.

Philip Seymour Hoffman is dead now. He was not old by any definition; 46. Did he have the wrong dreams like Willy Loman? Could he or did he metaphorically write a "late" quartet while deaf?

There are two things that scare me: tragic endings and poverty. Not just economic poverty, but poverty of the soul--spiritual poverty.

The real tragedy of the poor is the poverty of their aspirations. --Adam Smith

I'm not judging Philip Seymour Hoffman. These questions are just me, soul searching out loud.

I have learned this: Damn addictions. Damn hopelessness. Damn our poor choices.

Blessed are the poor in spirit... -- Matthew 5:3