Edition #188: What Makes A Good Man?
Turns out, it requires some thought. Plus, a beautiful cottage, a heartwarming doc, and the power of the polyglot.
A Note From the Editor
Something I’ve long loved about reading is the sense of escapism it enables. Before morning radio hour or cable TV or doom scrolling, there were only bound books to transport readers stuck squarely from one world to another, out of the limitations of their minds and into the vast mystery of someone else’s. The more different the narrator’s field of experience from the readers, the further the transport. A teenage girl in Central Florida, a pre-teen boy in Kabul. And yet, no matter how different the narrator might be from the reader, the reader will almost always find something of themselves reflected within the narrator’s interior mind. Such is the magic of writing, reading, of humanity. We’re all so different and yet entirely the same.
I’ve recently been working my way through several books at once: a novel, a collection of essays, a philosophical text, and a poetry collection. While I did not consciously choose this melange of books to complement one another, I’ve been discovering an inter-text thread, weaving the messages of these narratives together to direct my mind to one, ultimate inquiry: What makes a good man (by man, I mean person)? And then, the follow-up, how can I live a values-based life wherein, more often than not, my decisions are made in line with the things I care about?
To start where I have always started, the novel, Tell Me Everything by Elizabeth Strout. The story takes place in small-town Maine, mostly amongst a collection of characters aged 50 and over. While the story involves an elusive murder that would be the main page-turning mechanism in any other book, it feels like the long afternoon shadow in this one. Because the heart of the novel lies in those small moments of connection that make us human. The conversations on the porch between two average people leaving average lives, the way we interact with our neighbors at the grocery store. It is a story about our longing to be seen by another person and the ways we grapple with quiet loneliness, all while the days and months and years trudge on.
One anecdote from the novel sums up the theme beautifully. Bob, an exceptionally kind man with no sense of his goodness, reflects on his feelings about Christmas. Having tragically lost his father at a young age, Bob and his two siblings were raised by a single mother. He never liked Christmas; something about the day always made him sad. Not much under the tree, the weighty expectations of what he should feel about the day hanging heavy around him. As a young child, he mentioned this to his mother. “I don’t much like Christmas,” he said, and she began to cry. It was a small moment that left its mark on his malleable young mind. Admitting this distaste to his mother was a great regret.
Bob reflects on sharing this story with both his ex-wife and his current wife. Each woman expressed brief sympathy, but neither could comprehend the gravity of the situation as he had experienced it and this made him impossibly lonely. He concluded that we can only ever really care about ourselves. Until, during a walk with his friend Lucy—a writer, a fellow empath, a woman he is quietly falling in love with—Bob tells her the story.
He told her them about how when he was little he had spoken to his mother about not liking Christmas and how she had become angry and started to cry and he had walked away. “I think of that a lot, Lucy, and it just kills me every time. But I was a kid. I didn’t really get how hard her life was.”
Lucy stopped walking and looked at him. “Oh, Bob,” she said softy. And then Bob understood. She had heard him, She had absorbed this from him in a way that neither one of his wives ever could.
From this anecdote, I derived a subtle, but crucial value: always try to see the person in front of you. I mean “see” in a comprehensive sense; try to comprehend them, to hear them past the noise of your mind and through the haze of your judgment. Doing so requires no money and no grand action; only curiosity, care, and attention. And probably a bit of zen, for hearing another person necessitates quieting our internal chatter.
But what of the other values, larger in nature, that require more than just attention? What about those values that ask us to make sacrifices? This is where the philosophical text comes in. The thought of being a “good man” was supplanted in my mind by none other than Meditations by Marcus Aurelius, a collection of journal-like entries from a late, great, Roman emperor attempting to understand himself and his place in the Universe. It comes as no surprise to me that the text has seen a recent resurgence in popularity. In a world where we seem to have collectively lost the plot, the people want meaning. They want guidance on how to be good, and how to make their life feel significant, and this text serves up those answers on a silver platter.
“Do not act as if you were going to live ten thousand years. Death hangs over you. While you live, while it is in your power, be good.”
Aurelius writes with conviction about the subject of goodness, asserting the only thing that matters during our brief time on this Earth is the pursuit of truth and righteousness. As I read his words, I feel their electric buzz all these centuries later. I find myself romanticizing Roman valor, a willingness to put one’s life on the life for a cause. I’ve come to believe there is no sensation quite as intoxicating as the righteousness that drives one to make such a grand sacrifice. The mind wants to equate this level of conviction to goodness—current events and past ones prove this is not necessarily true.
Goodness is highly subjective and contextual. Good is, in so many ways, an imaginary idea inherited from our respective cultures, distilled from values that were passed on to us through generations; values that might not have ever been ours. For some, this is ok, especially if a person morally aligns with the values they inherited. Also, life happens and it is easier not to ask questions, to go with what you are told rather than trying to carve out time and space to ponder. In pondering, nuance arises. The villain’s backstory gets revealed and it turns out he isn’t such a bad guy at his core, and the hero isn’t as perfect as we once thought. The lesson: We must use our thinking minds, our hearts, and the context of our current world to decide what is good. Perhaps we do this and we find ourselves squarely where we started, firm in our inherited beliefs. That is OK, that is great. The point is the exercise of defining good for ourselves, with all of the information we have access to within and without while remaining malleable to new information.
Here are some qualities of goodness, as I see it: Being a kind, caring person. Doing no intentional harm to others in words or actions. When harm is done, feeling and expressing remorse as instantly as it arises, knowing no time is ever too late. Being honest; not justifying dishonesty with the cloak of politeness or under the guise of protecting someone’s feelings. Being accountable for your actions and owning up to mistakes. Being generous with the resources at your disposal without always expecting a return. Developing a practice of tolerance and carrying it everywhere you go. Cultivating the capacity for forgiveness. Forgiving often. Identifying your gifts and using them in a way that best serves the world. Feeling a sense of camaraderie and obligation to your fellow man. Believing every person deserves to be safe and to have their basic needs met.
Defining goodness is one thing, but how do we embody it? What is our duty as a person on this planet? When I think about being a good person, and when I’ve posed the question about what it means to be a good person to friends, our minds immediately resort to qualities associated with interpersonal interactions. These are the agreed-upon minimal thresholds for goodness, but perhaps they are not enough. Because of how we live today—in a society with a global supply chain—our every action has an impact on the lives of others. That is not a political opinion, it is the reality of the world. It is also why context is crucial in the sphere of goodness.
I imagine it was easier to be good when we lived in small, homogeneous communities and exclusively interacted with people like us. Today, we are all closer and further to one another than ever before, thanks to the global supply chain and the internet. I imagine a long chain of dominos winding all over the world, and every swipe of the credit card is a finger gently pushing down that first domino, setting off a long, inevitable reaction. On the other side of those decisions are human beings with lives as valuable as mine, whether I or not I choose to consider that reality.
Macro thoughts of this sort can become overwhelming and are ultimately ineffective. Every swipe of the credit card? Dear God. They make us feel doom-filled at best, and numb at worst. That is why I loved an essay titled “Do you have a moral plan?” in Peter Singer’s Ethics in the Real World. In the essay, Singer considers the American tendency to create New Year's resolutions—often centered around personal improvement by way of financial wellness or physical exercise, but rarely around becoming a better person in general. He hypothesizes that this might be because many people see morality as a matter of conforming to a set of rules telling us what we can’t do rather than what we should. This likely stems from the 10 commandments of Christianity and Judaism: don’t lie, cheat, or steal and you’re a morally sound person.
But being a good person in the modern day, Singer argues, is not quite so simple, it requires active effort. We need to inform ourselves about the problems our world is facing, decide what is important to us, and consider where we can make the most difference. Reading through the essay made me realize how far away I’ve gotten from letting the question of ethics even pitter-patter across my mind in my day-to-day decision-making—being blissfully ignorant is so much easier, as is letting the overwhelm of the world’s weight justify inaction.
A resolution to be a morally better person would not be a matter of sticking to rules, like not smoking or eating sweets. Such resolutions are rarely kept anyway.
Setting goals works better, especially if the goals are incremental, steps along a path. So make a moral plan. Think about your values, an choose one or two issues that are important to you. Then you can affirm those values by living in a way that addresses the issues you care about, whether it is by reducing your personal contribution to climate change or finding the most effective organizations helping people in extreme poverty, and supporting them with your time or money.
When you do this, make note of what you have done and the progress you have made. You will not be perfect. There are few saints, and for most people, aspiring to sainthood is bound to be self-defeating. But take pride in your achievements, and aim to build on them in the months and years to come.
I like this approach. It feels like the leveled up version of the pursuit of goodness. I do feel, I’ve always felt, that people have an obligation to other people. If we are able, we should be trying to make life easier for everyone, and/or trying to make the world better in some incremental way. How do we do this? First, identify the causes you care about. Second, do some research. Third, create a tangible goal around how you can contribute to those causes and keep track for your progress in achieving those goals over time.
Here are some causes I care about: The planet, the way we care for it, and how our actions affect it. The homelessness crisis and the way society dehumanizes the homeless population. Women’s reproductive rights. The justice system. Election integrity. Accessible healthcare. These priorities will likely shift over time in relation to the ever-changing world and to my personal experience. No matter. I can create one goal related to each of these causes and pursue that goal for the remainder of the year, tracking my progress along the way. I already have goals in mind:
Spend some time volunteering on a regenerative farm to learn the methodology hands-on; follow up on-the-job learning with supplemental reading. Also, give up single-use items—plastic baggies, bottles, etc.
Find an organization aligned with improving the quality of life for the homeless population and donate money to it monthly. While in New York, continue regular volunteering efforts.
Long tail, my dream of learning the art of documentary-making is fueled by a desire to tell stories about subjects like these. And also, stories that make people recognize our shared humanity and feel less alone. But first, a tiny goal. Tracking progress. Baby steps.
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Cheers, my dears, and as always, thank you for reading. This weekend, I’m settling back into my routine after a beautiful, friend-filled month in New York. I plan to pick up a bunch of fresh vegetables at the Saturday market, cook dinner for a friend, watch a scary movie, and go for a surf.
Have a wonderful weekend! Smell the top of a baby’s head, make a list of your favorite things, invite friends over for dinner.
Three Pieces of Content Worth Consuming
How Dreamy Is Barbara Kingsolver's Appalachian Garden? Reading this light, photo-filled piece brought me immense joy. I haven’t read Kingsolver’s Pulitzer-winning Demon Copperhead yet, but after reading this insight into her life, the book now tops my list. I love the way she met her husband—I, too, need some farm therapy—and I love the beautiful, integrated life they’ve built together. Icelandic sheep whose wool she uses for sewing, a bursting flower garden, and 40 varieties of tomatoes that are canned as a partner project every summer. And writing as a primary source of livelihood on top of all that. What a sweet life!
The Wren From Carolina: A Poem. I read this poem the other morning while sitting outside in the quiet, ambient birds chirping in the background—the perfect setting for reading such a poem. There is one line that reached right to the center of my heart. I bet you will quickly know which line it is.
A.I. Might Take Your Job. Here are 22 New Ones It Could Give You. A few weeks ago, I had dinner with someone who has been using AI for 20 years now. It was interesting to consider that AI has been along for that long, and I wondered how it felt for him to witness the tech come to dominate the discourse recently. “Very cool,” he said. He felt hopeful about AI’s future in the broad sense, but he feared the social ramifications. “It’s gonna get weird.” This article echos his net-positive sentiment, arguing that instead of taking our jobs, AI will take on much of the minutia while creating jobs that never before existed. The most interesting part of the article, as a creative, was the idea that having decisive, strong taste is going to become more important than ever. Companies whose USP was “industry expertise” will no longer offer a competitive edge in the information world. Their branding and storytelling will be what sets them apart. Humans who can create those sexy, compelling brands and stories, or who can create the narrative and direct AI to do the work, will be in higher demand than ever, in theory.
Perhaps You Should…Watch This Short, Heartwarming Doc
Watching The Quilters is a brilliant way to spend 33 minutes of your life. In it, a group of men in a high-security prison in Missouri volunteer their time by making custom quilts for local foster children. The men are part of a restorative justice program, a concept that makes more and more sense the more I read up on it.
I laughed, I cried, and I felt more hopeful about the state of humanity than I have in a while. The documentary reminded me that good doesn’t always need to happen at the hands of a big government or corporation on some grand scale, it can just easily happen in smaller ways, like this. And it's probably more effective this way.
I also watched this movie on my flight back from New York, and wow. Similarly rooted in a restorative justice program, but a richer, narrative film based on a true story.
**Bonus Content** (The Power of the Polyglot)
I always thought my chosen superpower would be flight. After watching this, I’m thinking the ability to speak every language might be my new chosen power. Watching people go from skeptical and closed off to warm and smiling when they hear their native language is heartwarming and sweet.
Also, a very cool opportunity for musicians, my dream New York apartment, a beautiful song, reconsidering my opinion about big gold buckles, what a funny surprise all around, creativity at work, and the perfect cakes.
A Quote From A Book You Should Read:
“It’s the right thing to do.” Clay knew this would work; his wife felt it important, not to do the moral thing, necessarily, but to be the kind of person who would. Morality was vanity, in the end.”
-Leave The World Behind by Rumaan Alam