Are we ever satisfied? Or are we, as many philosophers would suggest, destined to always focus on what is around the corner, never truly satisfied with the good we have right now?

I ponder this question as I look at a note a friend has just written me, a note telling me that a card I wrote her husband years ago found its way into the things he kept and treasured before he passed on.  It was a card I wrote with two other friends to thank this wonderful man for his generosity and care and expertise in the work we had all done together.

I know as surely as I know I am breathing right now, that as we all worked together, I didn’t fully appreciate the value of our time together. I’m sure I focused on the daily list of things to accomplish; the work before us all, the end goal always in sight. ‍

‍And yet, it was the way we worked together, the laughter and creativity and joy each one brought to the project that stays with me all these years later. I can’t even remember the dances we made (not in detail) or the money that was spent on the workshop, or the time it all took. Things that seemed so important at the time. The days were made up of small successes or challenges which lead quickly to the next demand, the next part of the to-do list.

And in some ways that makes perfect sense because our lives do move on to the next thing, the next person, the next project.

The thing I know now that I wasn’t so sure of then is what was priceless about those days together. The work we were doing was valuable and needed, but the priceless thing was how we made each other feel as we were choreographing or scheduling or writing copy for a program or, like our friend, videotaping all of it, day after day.

I used to think in my go-go life of dance or politics or academia that the way to get things done was to run at them, hard. To always be pushing and working and achieving. I see that quality now in others and I want to tell them, “Go ahead and achieve, do stuff, but every now and then take a breath. Look around you. Sit down and read something by an older person who has lived through most of their life and see what they feel has stuck, what continues to bring joy or inspiration later in life. And notice that. Do something about it in your own life. Make memories that will bring you joy and inspiration later in your journey.”

I was recently on a big tour bus while traveling and I now think of memories as the act of sitting at the front of the bus and occasionally turning around and asking someone (a favorite memory) at the very back of the bus to come up and sit with you. To make a conscious choice to engage with an old experience and to let it help sort out the present and possibly inform the future. I somehow doubt the ones we choose to call up front will be the ones that we have tried so hard to get, -- the promotions, or bigger pay checks, foreign cars, or prestigious awards.

My money is on the times we wrote simple cards that told certain people we loved them. Or the quiet, private moments with a child when we were able to comfort  them. Or the memory of laughter shared over a game, a TV show, or a good joke. Or the shared prayers of a loved one when the prayer has been answered and you look together in silent awe at God’s goodness.

Those are the memories that sustain us, that we want sitting next to us as we move forward.

The card I sent my friend had pelicans on the cover. I don’t know why I chose it now, but I do know pelicans are friendly birds and both travel and hunt together, live harmoniously with their fellow pelicans.

I’m glad I chose that card all those years ago, as I believe friendship is highly underrated. Almost all friendships, from childhood on up, give us a deep sense of belonging, of being seen by others, of being able to share the good and bad parts of our lives and, thus, to feel loved.

My friend is gone from this part of Life, but I’m sure he is making whoever he is with, wherever he may be, happy. I’m sure of that because he did it here when I knew him.  And I’m grateful to have been reminded of the need to be grateful for the moments, to tell others how we feel about their presence in our lives, and to bring my old friend up to the front of the bus of my consciousness to travel with me for a while.

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