As a (divorced) father of two children, Christmas quickly became a time that made me feel incredibly guilty for the twisted situation I had put my kids in. It was a time to ask for their forgiveness by showering them with a barrage of things. Remember strolling up and down every aisle in Toys “R” Us thinking to myself, “If I was my son/daughter, what would I want?” And the crazy part is I didn’t stop at one toy each or 13 for that matter. My guilt ran deep. If I saw something I thought I’d want at their age, I bought it.
But the real lesson in all of this, and what inevitably brought an end to the madness, was what actually transpired on Christmas mornings when the presents got opened. The first lesson came when my son was three. After he had blown through opening his tower of gifts at lightning speed, what he was happiest about and wouldn’t stop playing with was this huge ball of discarded tin foil that had been used to wrap one of his presents. And what ended the insanity for me for good a few years later was when my 4-year-old daughter, after opening what must have been 30 different boxes of all different shapes and sizes, came to the end of her personal mountain of gifts asked with disbelief, “That’s all daddy?”
Finally, I got it. I’d heard it said a million times before but it never really landed with me – The “joy” of the holidays comes not from the gifts, the real spirit of Christmas is just being together with the ones you love most. The joy is not in the getting, it’s in the giving. And now with all of my elders gone, I understand this to be true even that much more.
The process of gift giving in general has become way too commercialized. The ideal situation is when you come upon something during your daily course of business which reminds you of a special someone and you get it for them because there is an undeniable compulsion to do so from your heart. To see something that immediately compels you to gift it for someone you care about because it was made just for them and you want them to have it. Gifting driven not by a date on the calendar but rather an intuitive feeling deep within. In that object, or whatever it is you are giving, you know in your soul it was meant for them. This kind of present is as magical for the person giving it as those who are receiving. What I have learned with age is that even more wonderful than a gift of a thing is to give of yourself.
Here’s a suggestion to honor a special occasion like someone’s birthday: in lieu of giving a material thing, instead make that day the most memorable one of their entire year. I was introduced to this idea by my college sweetheart. On the morning of my first birthday with her, she woke me up at 5am out of the blue, directing me to dress and get into the car. She secretly shuffled us off to a remote field in rural Colorado, and driving into this field, a team of people were preparing a balloon to take flight. My first hot air balloon ride, a sunrise flight. What a magical way to begin my special day, capped off by a champagne breakfast awaiting us as we landed. It is an amazing experience I still vividly remember to this day.
Over the decades, I have applied the concept of shifting the tradition and focus away from gifting a physical object to creating a special unforgettable experience. For Easter, instead of simply hiding the children’s baskets behind the couch I created a spider web maze with kite string. A complex labyrinth of twisted string ran through the house, hiding the basket in the kitchen cabinet below the sink but then attaching string to the handle, weaving it through the other kitchen cabinets, in to the living room under the couch, behind the television set, then into the hallway and up the stairs, wrapping it around the banister and using every inch of string on the roll, going behind and under then inside of everything I could think of. The kids would wake-up Easter morning, run out to the hallway to search for the string end with their name on it, and begin to untangle themselves and locate their sweet treat filled baskets. Excitement and endless laughter were always soon to follow. Even though the degree of joy getting the actual basket in the end is still as brief as it always was, the memories of the crazy twisted journey to find it lasted long after the candy had been eaten and the fake plastic grass all cleaned up.
We are a culture of consumption – voracious consumption machines. Although we are all blessed with abundance, somehow the majority of people’s focus stays squarely on what they lack vs. all that we have. Whether you look at the waistline of the average American, the kind of car(s) they are choosing to drive, the stockpile of endless things we all have in our homes – whatever metric you choose – consumption is our own personal gluttonous minion. We just can’t satisfy our appetite for things.
At 23 years of age, as a college grad, I decided before I entered the job force I’d take some time to explore this incredible country of ours. That was the original intention, but what I ended up discovering was that the majority of the exploration I would be doing would be internal. And what I continue to become more and more aware of with the passing of every day is that the process is never-ending. Not a day passes by that I don’t find myself peeling back yet another layer of my own personal onion.
Growing up in a dysfunctional and fractured family, my mother did everything she could to keep things in check with the ever-present support of my grandfather. My father moved back to Spain when I was very young, she had remarried and my stepfather brought with him a son which made us six including my older brother and sister.
“It takes a village” and ours had multiple extended family members on both sides of our respective family trees doing what they could to provide the care and attention, transportation and direction so many disparate lives and focuses required. But at times I felt alone, without the traditional paternal guidance and advice available to me as the endless stream of life’s questions surfaced. I ended up looking outwards for the answers I sought.
Learned about what love is supposed to look like from my mentor James Bond. What a home should be like from my private school friends with their sprawling estates with all of their expensive toys. The influence brands have over people during my time working at a Mercedes-BMW dealership. And the awesome power of advertising majoring in the subject in college. To this day I remember as a youth watching an advertisement for Bonkers! candy which was sandwiched between my favorite Saturday morning cartoons. Seeing that commercial, I was compelled to go out and buy a pack as I somehow had to try that “big fruity taste” for myself. Could it really taste like a gigantic strawberry falls on your head when you chew one? How cool would that be?!?! I HAD TO TRY SOME IMMEDIATELY!!!
Bonkers Candy Television Commercial (1984)
My travels around the country after college introduced me to some absolutely amazing places and inserted me in to some incredible situations. There were 50,000-acre farms and 10,000 sq ft multi-million dollar estate I was able to call home for a short period of time, as well as jet ski adventures around Lake Michigan, tractor rides and feeding cattle, and riding horseback through the blue ridge mountains.
But in hindsight, the most memorable parts of my journey came with the most simple of times – specifically, the moments spent interacting directly with people. It was not the inside of the sprawling Tucson, Arizona estate I remember most, but outside lying on an old rusted trampoline in the far back corner of the property with the family’s three boys, passing endless hours being silly and enjoying one another’s company, and to my complete surprise, hearing how they’d much prefer chilling with me for the weekend instead of having to go to Las Vegas – AGAIN – on their private jet.
During my time spent in New Orleans, one of my hosts recorded me playing a song on guitar in their private studio and I took in the endless sights, smells and sounds of that magical city. But what I most remember from there was sitting around a table of 12, eating a homemade jambalaya and passing the night away drinking red wine and those in recovery sipping on their coffee with chicory, happily devouring the conversation and friendship of this group who only a few days earlier were complete strangers to me. But now we were one big happy family. I felt so connected to the group. So engaged, alive, welcomed and loved.
One of my absolute favorite meal memories during my travels was when I was visiting a college friend in Portland Maine and I was invited to join him at a dinner party at his father’s house. The meal was fabulous, a true New England clambake with lobster and steamers and red potatoes and fresh corn on the cob from the farm next to their house. The conversation was flowing as freely as the libations, and it would have been impossible to have hand picked a funnier and more congenial group of people to enjoy the night with. And then the most memorable part of the evening – when purchasing the groceries for our little feast, apparently a desert selection had been overlooked. But what started off initially as embarrassment by the person throwing the party turned into a smile which I still wear on my face today and every time I recall this story.
Our host disappeared into the kitchen and returned with our desert – an Oreo cookie with a dollop of whip cream, drizzled in Hershey’s chocolate syrup. But that wasn’t it. He proceeded to disappear in to the kitchen again and again, each time emerging with one ingenious sweet focused masterpiece at a time. There were the canned mandarin orange wedges and strawberry jam dollop sprinkled with date flakes, and then the chocolate truffle sitting on a bed of Grand Marnier… I believe in all we were presented with 7 desert courses, each one bringing a louder appreciation for the creativity, the cheers intensifying in volume and the laughter more uproarious with each successful exit from the kitchen accompanied by his latest sweet surprise. Again I saw that something created from love trumped anything store bought – it was the effort applied and not the item’s price tag that mattered.
It’s all about deprogramming yourself really. To step back and ask, “What really makes me happy?” But also being honest enough to yourself to admit the things you were certain would bring you joy initially may not provide the expected outcome once you get them.
For my entire life I’ve been a BMW fanatic and always aspired to own an M5. It’s a +500hp monster, a four-door sedan that is affectionately named “The Ferrari Killer.” While visiting with my close friend in Chicago who works at a luxury car dealership, I told him that I was selling my house and it’s finally time to make my dream come true – if someone trades in a 2006 Interlagos Blue BMW M5 with low miles and a black interior, I wanted it. Frank said they haven’t had an M5 traded in for a few years and the chances that one would come in with my color and year preferences not probable, but he’d keep his eye out for me.
Four days after I had returned back home to Connecticut I got the call. Frank had the car. Just traded in that morning and it was in mint condition. The exact car I had dreamed about except it had a Dove Grey interior and something I didn’t know existed – yellow walnut wood trim.
Turns out I liked that color combination even more than the one I asked for. In fact, it was the prettiest BMW I’ve ever seen. The car was mint, one owner, and the back seats looked like no one had even sat in them. My house hadn’t sold yet but I could work the finances out. The fact this car was traded in just 4 days after I told my friend I was looking for one was a clear sign from the Universe it was meant to be. You only live once. Time to make my dream come true baby.
So I flew out to Chicago, and 14 hours and one pull over by the State Police later I was in my driveway with my new car. I had manifested something I’d only dreamed about happening, but what I quickly discovered to be true was the exact opposite of what I had envisioned in my mind’s eye.
First of all, it’s impossible to drive that car the speed limit. It was made to run and it loves to run fast. Every time I drove the M5 it was almost like I could hear the car taunting me, daring me to drive a little faster, to step on the accelerator and see if I could find the limits of its capabilities. “Come on now, that’s all you got? Really?? What a wimp!”
Then there was the other drivers on the road that didn’t help. When I was out cruising, inevitably some young kid with a souped up lowered Honda Civic with a Borla exhaust would ride my bumper, challenging me to race. Admittedly many times I found it hard to resist those challenges. I’d press my foot down firmly on the gas pedal and watch the rice burners quickly disappear in my rear view mirror, but driving at +120mph bursts on the highway is inviting the inevitable speeding ticket, and if caught going that fast, there would be far more to deal with than just a ticket.
Interestingly enough I also found that each time I drove the car I’d be transfixed on the odometer. Much like what happens to me when I’m in a NYC cab and cringe with the anticipation as I watch the next tick of the meter increasing the fare, every mile I put on that car was painful. It was almost like I could feel the dollar bills (my dollar bills!) streaming out the back of the car as I rolled down the road, feeling the vehicle’s value decrease with every inch of asphalt that passed beneath my wheels.
And there was the worry of scuffing up the light interior, scuffing the paint on the trunk when I was putting my hockey bag in and out or getting a ding on the door panel while parked in the commuter lot when I caught a train to NYC for a business meeting. That M5 was made to be admired in someone’s garage as a showpiece, a “Sunday Driver” and not a vehicle to be rode hard as a daily driver. I was able to come up with a much longer list of the cons in terms of ownership than the pros. Checking that one off of my Bucket List, up she went on eBay for sale not more than three months after I purchased her. Even crazier, I found a rare 2003 540i M/// Sport which to me is even more enjoyable to drive, void of all of the challenges I had with the M5, and my monthly car payment decreased from $740 to $210 – BONUS!
Which brings me back to my travels around the country in my VW pop-up camper. I was on a very tight budget and I remember the internal joy I had when I would go shopping for a new pair of socks – buying anything was a treat. With such a small living space, there wasn’t room to get a new anything really. Purchases were few and far between and what I did buy was always a “need” and never a “want.” And with every day away from a television set, running around the countryside working on finding my inner peace, reading the classics, meeting endless new people, having endless new experiences and enjoying new places instead of going out to clubs and trying to keep up with my neighbors, priorities shifted and so did the noise in my head. I was able for the very first time in my life to really be able to sense the intrinsic value of things. Whether a static object or an experience, my ability to discern “its true worth” became crystal clear.
The picture above is where I had one of the most incredible experiences in my life to date. It is a stream in Sedona, Arizona, home to the most magical moment of my entire journey. I had pulled over on the road leading out of town, grabbed my guitar and headed to a large flat rock in the middle of the stream surrounded completely by water on all sides. I played several songs and then decided I wanted to meditate. So I put on my freshly washed birthday suit (which I’d never meditated with before and not quite sure what compelled me to do so at this particular point in time), closed my eyes and quieted my mind.
At first I focused on the sound of the water which encircled me and the sun’s rays washing over my face, then the wind dancing with the trees, then my breathing – exhale… inhale… exhale… inhale. I concentrated on visualizing the air being drawn in to my lungs and then leaving my body. Not sure exactly how long I was doing this for but all of a sudden I felt my legs melting in to the rock slab I was sitting on. The feeling was as if the division between my body and the ground melted away, completely erased, and I sensed myself as being one with the Earth. There was a peace inside of me that I had never experienced before that moment and have never experienced since. It was as if God was whispering a little secret in my ear, assuring me that we are one, that all is well and always will be if I just stopped listening to the noise that suggested otherwise. One of the most wonderful “gifts” I’ve ever received in my life.
Interestingly enough, this experience happened on one of my last stops on my travels too. Kind of like the saying ‘you find true love when you stop looking for it’, I had found a peace which would settle my soul forever, making me aware I was part of something much larger than the vessel that carried me around this planet. It was an experience that changed my life, not a thing, and that surreal experience was a direct result of when I had absolutely nothing – no distractions, no thoughts, no clothes, no expectations, and no worries.
Namaste.
