This weekI got a little jealous while reading several Father’s Day newsletters from my friends and colleagues.
Apparently, their dads had so many wise sayings they had to narrow it down to 4 or 5 pearls of wisdom.
Yet after several conversations with various relatives, I’m sad to report my father had no pithy catchphrases.
(He may have been many things, but he just wasn’t quotable.)
Not wanting to give up on a Father’s Day themed missive, in the spirit of Rich Dad / Poor Dad, I turned to other father figures in my life.
And since, as in all things, Ariana Grande probably said it best, to reference “thank you, next”…
One taught me love
One taught me patience
And one taught me pain.
But in my case:
One taught me kindness
One taught me patience
And one taught me presence
He was an unexpected father figure.
And most of the lessons he taught me were thus quite unexpected.
We met almost 20 years ago when I was teaching lots of high-priced private yoga lessons.
After our first session, I vividly remember him debating whether or not he wanted to “invest” in two yoga blocks (roughly $15) despite his sprawling pre-war zillion dollar Fifth Avenue apartment.
Several of my friends developed crushes on him.
One of them simply shrugged and said despite their 30+ year age difference, “Honestly, that level of confidence is just sexy.”
Here’s the thing that stands out the most:
When another yoga client got an unflattering review in the New York Times, I wondered whether I should ignore it or address it with that client.
One teaching colleague strongly suggested that no one wants to be reminded of bad newsand that I should simply be silent, pretending I hadn’t seen the review.
This guy, however, was adamant:
You must immediately email / call / send a telegram and let him know the world is insane, the reviewer is definitely brain damaged, and that you are completely on his side.
I followed his advice and it was profoundly meaningful, elevating my other client to a new level of connection and deeper friendship.
Beyond professional courtesy, he taught me that everyone––no matter how successful––needs support when the chips are down.
Everyone––especially those who put their creative souls out there––is vulnerable.
In other words, he taught me kindness.
The second Father Figure is actually that other yoga client.
I’ve written about him before, but without name-dropping, let’s just say he’s someone who earned five Tony Awards.
Working together 3 times a week for about 5 years, I got to witness life backstage, sometimes quite literally, but more importantly metaphorically regarding seeing the arc of a career.
I witnessed…
The celebrity friendships…
And the marquee actor dropping out at the very last minute because a lucrative film role conflicted with a short off-Broadway run.
The bad reviews…
And the lifetime achievement awards.
Early successes, followed by major failures, and ultimate triumph.
And most importantly, how to bear it all with grace.
During an interview, I once asked another award winner––Olympic Dukakis (Oscar for Moonstruck)––what piece of advice she would offer to the young actor.
“You’ve got to be in it for the long haul,” she replied without hesitation.
That’s always stuck with me––being in it for the long haul–-and this
great man certainly was.
Especially regarding our own journey in the world, he taught me patience.
The third Father Figure is perhaps a bit of a reversal.
(Although, as always, I’m still the one who needs to learn the life lesson).
Years ago, I mentored a formerly homeless kid in a program via Covenant House.
He was brilliant and sweet and I treasured the time we spent together.
He was always reading philosophy on the subway and missing his stop.
Under other circumstances, he would have become an Ivy League academic.
And somehow, I knew the instant before he said it when I asked him his birthday that it would be the same day as my father’s (July 28th)…and it was.
Anyway, when I signed up for the mentoring program, the counselor told me something that surprised me.
Far more than any advice I could give, or any connections I could provide, or even something as pragmatic as money, that the most valuable thing I could offer would be providing a consistent presence in his life.
Simply the knowledge that I was out there in the world, steady as a lighthouse, would mean more than any action I could take or any gift I could give.
And several years later, my mentee echoed those words exactly.
He shared that whatever chaos he was experiencing, knowing that there was someone out there who cared about him in a consistent, no strings attached way was the lifeline by which he got through.
He taught me the value of presence, of simply being there for someone.
That sometimes being present is enough.
And sometimes, quite frankly, it’s actually everything.
One final grace note:
Speaking of Father’s Day and Life Lessons, it seems I’m now a grandfather.
And by that I mean my maple tree––the one that switched genders this winter––suddenly had helicopters this spring.
Three of them have sprouted on my upstairs neighbor’s terrace.
Unexpectedly, my maple tree has reproduced, spreading its magic beyond my reach.
I’ve shared before how much my tree has taught me––patience, kindness, and presence, and more.
I can only wonder what lessons its seedings will impart.
Namaste for Now,
P.S. If you’re still searching for a last-minute Father’s Day gift, consider my July 10th intro to yoga course HERE.
(I’ve even made it a little easier with a new 2-payment option)…
And, as this email makes clear, you can expand the definition of fatherhood toward anyone who has taught you or whom you’ve taught…
Perhaps share some yoga magic with them HERE.
