That Look

"She has seen that look of old people now and then -- clear-sighted but content, on islands of their own making."

-- Alice Munro. Deep Holes. The New Yorker. 6/30/08. p. 73

We're all on islands of our own making. Most of the time we just don't realize it, or don't accept it. We've always got society, or the economy, or our parents, or our ex-lovers, or our kids, or President Bush or God, or the Devil, or genetics, or some other imaginary island developer to blame. Blame never leads to a "clear-sighted but content" look. Blame, at best, leads, to a look of righteous indignation, a look of "I'll show 'em" which, if you're really lucky, may fuel you to succeed, and eventually to understand that blame is a figment of your own imagination.

But what about the "but?" "Clear-sighted but content." Why the but? I think because people can be clear-sighted and anything but content. They can see all the unconsciousness and stupidity and pain and meanness in the world and be downright pissed off. And it's easy to see why. But the old people that Alice Munro is talking about have moved through the stage of anger and defiance. They see it all clearly and accept it all, not with resignation, but with recognition that things are as they are because that's the only way that they can be. For now.

Clear-sightedness will also clearly see change. And make room for it, in both mind and life. The clear-sighted are not stuck. They are present-centered, but with the perspective of the past. On their self-constructed islands they are not isolated, but they re also not influenced by every little cultural breeze, emotional outburst, or sociological shift that impacts the islands next door. Psychological weather is seen as a decidedly local phenomena.

But you don't have to wait to be old to be "clear-sighted but content." It's not as much about age as it is about insight. Sure the experiences and perspective of the years may help, but, paradoxically, one of the best ways to enter that state is through the doorway of the present. See and accept what is right before your very eyes. Look around your island. Take it all in. And then, while you're still young enough and energetic enough, see if any island renewal projects are calling you.

Start small. Buy the canned peaches that are packed in their own juices rather than the ones floating in sugar water. Or go completely radical and only eat fresh peaches. In season. Organic. Locally grown. But only if you want to.

When you accept that you are the developer of your own island, you soon realize that the best island for you is the one that reflects the real, deepest you. You're not looking to copy an ideal island that you saw in Travel and Leisure magazine. You're not trying to one-up Jones Island nest door. Your island, your own making, clear-sighted but content -- the good life.