I had a surreal event happen to me this week that supports some tenants I hold about human relationships:
1. We are all connected by six degrees or less.
2. Our moods affect the quality of our relationships.
3. We give famous people an earie power to bless us.
It all started last Saturday evening around ten pm. I was in bed and I had just finished the last page of “The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao,” by Junot Diaz. If you haven’t yet read this Pulitzer Prize winning novel, get it now. I downloaded it on my new Kindle, which made me feel quite hip. I would seriously make a mess of “Oscar” if I tried to describe the novel’s genius and enough real critics like the New York Times have already done better but, suffice to say, it’s one of those stories told through a number of voices in a number of countries, eras, and languages, and the syncronicity at the end is astounding. I thought I was reading a bunch of short stories until it all came together with more clarity, brutality, and sexiness than I could have imagined.
So, wondering about the wizard who concocted that magic word-smithing, I Googled Junot Diaz. Turns out he’s a professor of literature at MIT and he immigrated to New Jersey from the Dominican Republic when he was eight. He’s a self-entitled nerd, a bookish son of immigrant parents who held secrets about their own past while they prodded their American son to future greatness. Muchas gracias, Senor y Senora Diaz!
You should know here that I am a bit of a nerd myself. Years ago, I personally coined the moniker “Nerd Barbie” and today wear it with pride. So, there I was on a Saturday night with bars hopping and nightlife afire outside my door, tucked under a down duvet, watching a professor on YouTube.com explain his motivation. Then, for no reason except that I was enamored, I sent that man an email. Just a few sentences of gratitude. I tried to sound smart. Mentioned something he said in his YouTube “talk” and elaborated on it from a psychological perspective. I signed it with just Wendy Walsh. Didn’t dare use a Ph.D. suffix in the presence of his holiness himself, a great artist who writes real literature and collects literary prizes like my kids collect Polly Pockets. Anyway, I was never expecting a response. Best case might be that some freshman assistant might smirk when she read it.
Not three days later my world was rocked.
It was before seven am. I had just roused my neighbors with the “ice breaking” feature on my blender and had churned out some organic strawberry-banana smoothies for the kids. While my eleven-year-old slurped beside me, I grabbed my Blackberry to see if all was still well in the world. Scrolling through my emails, I nearly fell off my chair to see one from Junot Dias. And you’re never going to believe this. He must have googled me. Me! Because he kept calling me Doctor. And because this world is such a wacky and weird place, he told me he was familiar with one of my books, The Boyfriend Test. It is a self-help book I’d written while in grad school and was mostly a bid to solve my own boy problems. Junot Diaz wrote that my book had been a constant companion of a friend of his and because he is a “nerd about books” he made the connection. He also paid me a huge compliment by calling me “Famous and Brilliant.” (I added the caps.)
My mind reeled. My heart skipped a beat. I felt like the Dali Lama had just told me I walked in the footsteps of Godliness. So, the first lesson here is that we really are connected. We are really all connected by six degrees or less. Just one degree for my buddy, Junot and I. The internet.
And it underscores something else. My belief that most people are basically good. Junot Diaz was kind and generous to me. I mean, doncha think an MIT professor who lugs around a Pulitzer would have better things to do? Of course, I will give some credence to the photoshopped photo on my website. He is a man after all. But I prefer to maintain that it was my brain that caused the compliment. Allow me my fantasies, people.
What happened next was another amazing thing, and the part that relates to all our relationships. That entire day, and indeed for that last three days, I have been walking with a lightness in my step I do not recall since, well, I don’t recall this walk ever. It is paired with a smile on my face and an urge to see beauty in every person I lay eyes on. The cashier at Walgreens whose obesity belies an internal struggle that I will never fully know. The first graders on a library field trip who found joy in wandering from my frantic stewardship. My hormonal and moody middle schooler who suddenly looks like the angel I had actually ordered. My our-of-town ex-baby-daddy whose absense seems no longer grounds for throwing daggers, but one for throwing prayers for his well being. And, my tantrum tortured six-year-old whose sensitive psyche gets regularly shipped to a prison governed by screams.
And this is the thing about mood and relationships: Everyone I am in contact with seems to be responding to my newfound lightness of being. That large cashier and I locked eyes for a split second while he handed me my change and I saw a tender human in the dark pools. I swear I saw the corner of his mouth move slightly upward too. Those six year olds were full of mirth and giggles when I actually joined their fun. My eleventeen child allowed me to hug her in public. My Ex, I have not heard from, but I must tell you, I once heard him tell his mother, “If you don’t hear from me, you’ll know I’m fine.” And my own tortured, artistic, athletic, shy screamer? All I can say is that the last three days have been the most blessed days in our entire relationship. I cornored her yesterday, while we were lazily riding out an October heat wave in a swimming pool. “Why are you so happy, honey? Why haven’t you screamed or whined this week? Why are you suddenly learning to read?” Big questions for a tiny being, but she answered like a perfect Buddist. “I feel different, ” she said.
Feel different. That’s the thing we can do to all our relationships. We can feel them differently. We have the power to transform every relationship in our lives, just the way Junot Diaz unknowingly transformed the relationships in my life and hopefully the relationships in their lives. But, I ask you, short of stalking our heros for an anointing, how can we find that lightness I describe? We can start being less hard on ourselves, by showing compassion for the life lessons were learned through failure. We can remember that somewhere inside all of us is the perfect lover and partner. And we can reframe the perceptions we have of those we love by having empathy and compassion for their journey. And, most of all we should do exactly what Junot Diaz asked me to do at the bottom of his email, “Cuidate Mucho!”
(Click here to buy Dr. Wendy Walsh’s Books and Audio CD’s)
Hey, nice post, and even better, nice to hear you are having a good week. I love that book too.
Lovely Dr. Walsh. My Mother has made many good connections through writing letters of thanks – another lesson modeled that I have yet to follow. And your closing paragraph, ♥ it – the most surprising thing for me out of the torture of therapy was so so simple and yet so very profound – I can choose how I feel. Thank you and Cuidate Mucho Chica!