How Are You? 

The challenge of answering when someone asks me how I am.

I am struck by how much we humans like to have things easily categorized, black and white, good and bad, evil and good, happy and sad.

For me, that is not my experience on this journey of being a human, especially as I continue aging. 

It’s not an easy question to answer when someone asks me how I am. I find that I hesitate at times. Do I give one of the accepted answers (fine, ok, great, hanging in) or can I dare to speak my truth and say some of the mixed feelings that are inside me? Do they really want to hear? Isn’t it interesting that the phrase How are you? these days is not usually a question that has space for a lengthy answer. It’s almost like saying hello. 

What if we reserved that very special question for times when we have the time and emotional space to hear the entire answer that someone may have to give us? 

I often feel sad these days. Sad about things going on in the world. Sad about the pain of others, the pain of the earth itself and all its creatures. My own sadness at the realization of the reality of mortality. Of my own aging body. Of the road ahead of me being much shorter than the road behind me. Of regrets about things that I might have done differently. 

I only speak of these things to a few people. It seems difficult for people to hear about pain.

We are often told to focus on gratitude at the expense of feeling all the feelings inside of us. 

And so, well-intentioned as it may be, I am sometimes redirected to feel gratitude. To focus on the positive. And there is almost a bit of shaming that can come across for what is perceived as my negative focus.

As if it is assumed that I do not feel gratitude for life and everything in it because I feel sad. 

I feel both. That is one, for me, of the wonders of being human. I can contain it all. I can feel it all. And it’s all ok. It’s a gift. 

I am deeply grateful for my life and all the lessons I have had and continue to have (some of them easier to handle than others, certainly, but all important to have helped me reach where I am today.) 

I am grateful to wake up each morning to another day. 

I am grateful for this body that still functions, even if a bit differently than when I was younger. 

I am grateful for where I am in life, the gift of retirement and finally being able to do things that I love. Writing. Painting. Long walks in the redwoods in the middle of the day. The time to sit and simply be.

I am grateful for the many blessings that I have that others may not. I have a home. I can provide for myself. I live peacefully. 

I am grateful for random acts of kindness in a world that can sometimes be cruel.

I am grateful for my friends, and sad about those that I have lost.

I am grateful that I get to volunteer with the elephants at our local zoo, and sad about all of the poaching and killing that these sacred creatures suffer.

I am sad about wars and senseless killing. 

I am grateful for the smile of a stranger as I walk down the street, the grocery store clerk who recognizes me and asks how I am doing. The coffee shop owner who asks where I have been and goes on to say that she hasn’t seen me in a while and hopes that I have been ok.

I am sad about being old, and grateful that I have lived this long and am still alive, still here.

I am sad about being alone sometimes, and deeply grateful for my solitude.

I am grateful for my neighbor’s new babies. They give me hope for the future. And I am anxious about this world filled with turmoil into which they have been born, while being hopeful that they can make it better. 

Being human and alive feels like such a privilege and gift. And it can be quite painful at times. Might I say, exquisitely so? Exquisite in that the pain amplifies the joy. Sadness helps me appreciate the moments of pure delight. The temporary nature of our lives helps me appreciate each moment. 

As in a painting where the empty spaces help define the entire meaning of the piece, or in writing where what is implied, but not stated, can lead to deeper thoughts and feelings…so is life for me. 

So, when someone asks me how I am, I often find that I hesitate for a few moments before answering. First, to have someone ask and then actually look at me and wait for my answer feels like a bit of a surprise at times. That doesn’t always happen today in our very fast-paced, text-size interactions. 

There is my own weighing of how much to share with this person. How much might they really want to hear? How much of the complexity of being human may they feel comfortable with? Can they hear me without giving advice or telling me to be grateful and to remember how lucky I am and that others have it so much worse? Of course, these things are true, and I do know that. But being reminded of that in the moment of sharing what is inside of me only serves to shut me down. Perhaps that was the intention.

It’s interesting to remember that as a child, not only was my being sad at times criticized, but so were times of excitement and pure exuberance, as we can sometimes see in children. It is as if any extreme was disapproved of. Don’t get too excited would be the message. It’s too much. Your feelings are too much. You are too much. 

How many of us have learned to numb ourselves, to dampen our feelings, to not accept what is inside of us and to do our best to hide it and present a facade to the world that we think may be more acceptable?

This, then, also makes it harder to simply be with others, in whatever their present moment and emotional state may be. We try to fix things, and if we cannot, then we try to redirect them to not only what we think will make them more comfortable, but also what will make us more comfortable in their presence. 

We are all on this path of being human together. We have all had, and will continue to have, our own individual challenges, as well as triumphs. How lovely when we can simply sit with each other and share more of our journeys, with no need for answers or solutions. When we can open to each other and feel a bit less alone for a few moments. 

 So, if we meet sometime, I may ask you how you are. I will wait if you take some time to answer. It’s ok. I have time to listen.