Dear Everett,
You may wonder why the first few letters are addressed to your brother. Before I attempt to explain, let me assure that 1) I love you dearly, probably more than you will ever know, and 2) these letters are meant for you as much as for him.
The first reason why the letters to date were addressed to Leland is simply that I’ve had the idea of writing “Letters to Leland” since he was born, and I’ve never been able to get the idea out of my head. I tried other titles, and just couldn’t come up with one I like better.
The second reason is that I know your brother better. Partly this is because I’ve known him longer (he’s older, after all), but mostly it’s because of what happened when you were born. See, newborn babies are incredibly demanding, and from what I can tell take up most of their mom’s time and attention. So while Mom was busy with you, I spent lots and lots of time with your brother for the first couple years of your life. He and I developed a pretty special bond, one that I have been purposely working to establish with you over the last couple years.
[Funny story: Leland originally demonstrated some jealousy when I started trying to play with you purposely a couple years ago. He would generally try to intervene, and recapture my attention. I joked that he had given up on getting his fair share of Mom’s attention, but that he was drawing the line at me. Once he realized that Mom had more bandwidth to be with him, Leland started letting me play with you without the need to interrupt.]
The third reason I write to Leland, though, is probably the most relevant: he’s less like me, so he’s easier for me to understand. That may sound counterintuitive: shouldn’t I understand you better, if you are more like me? On the contrary: the person we least understand is often ourselves, and so we similarly struggle to understand those most like us. Leland reminds me so much of your mom, my dad, and my sister; I’ve spent my whole life around aspects of his personality, and I’ve learned how to interact with those characteristics pretty comfortably and effectively.
You, like me, are agreeable, extroverted, emotional, musical, empathetic, and a little rebellious. I find myself simultaneously thrilled to watch you share personality traits with me, and horrified at the struggles I anticipate you will face in life as a result (because no one is likely more familiar with your future struggles than I).
Caveats aside: today’s note is for you, simply because I think you are the more appropriate audience for today’s topic.
I woke up today thinking about the cuckoo bird. Cuckoo birds lay their eggs in the nests of other birds. Cuckoo hatchlings push all the other eggs out of the nest before they can hatch. This ensures that the baby cuckoo gets all the attention from their unwitting, adopted parents. The parents raise and feed the cuckoo like their own child. From the videos I’ve seen, my sense is that the parents somehow recognize something is amiss, but are not able to overcome their programming, and so raise the cuckoo to adulthood.
The lesson, I think, is to practice awareness when cuckoos are attempting to hack your programming. There are so many folks (including but not limited to salesmen, marketers, religious fanatics, managers, and the arbiters of social status – think ‘the popular kids’) who would manipulate our programming for their purposes. While your capacity for empathy has the potential to be a superpower, in the face of cuckoos it also has the potential to become your achilles heel. I suspect you will be more susceptible to such manipulation than your brother. Leland seems to have a clear sense of what he wants, and a determined willingness to pursue his desires. I love and admire that about him. Unfortunately, I am far less definitive about my own wants and needs; indeed I’ve had to practice even becoming aware of them. I so want to be around happy people that I tend to sacrifice my own wants and needs for others. I suspect you will face the same struggle, at least to some degree.
To be clear: I don’t think any of us live a life free of manipulation by others. I don’t even think that should be the goal, because I suspect that in the attempt to avoid manipulation, we isolate ourselves and cut ourselves off from so much of the love and connection that make life worth living (especially for folks like you and me).
Rather, I think the goal should be to practice. Practice awareness of what it is that we really want. Practice the willingness to speak up for ourselves and ask for those wants. Practice facing the rejection when others say no to our requests. Practice understanding that when others say “no”, it does not mean that we are not loved or lovable. Practice being our own sources of love. And from there, practice awareness when others are manipulating or attempting to manipulate us. And then of course, practice forgiving ourselves when we discover we have been unknowingly manipulated.
What might that practice look like? Well, it’s an imperfect parallel, but let me talk about my week. I haven’t felt well this week. I feel pressure in my head from congestion. It’s affected my sleep, and I’ve felt tired, foggy, and just a little ‘off’ all week.
I also started an exercise routine this week. Almost every day I’ve asked myself whether I should exercise, or whether I should rest due to not feeling well. As I mentioned yesterday, I fear death; this week I am finding that I fear every new and unfamiliar discomfort not as the typical result of a new exercise regime or mild illness, but as an indicator of some imminently life-threatening disease.
On the other hand, I also fear not developing an exercise routine. I fear that taking one day off might lead to taking several days off, resulting in a routine that doesn’t include exercise.
So which is the more appropriate solution: should I exercise daily, or take days off until I feel better? My natural tendency is to seek counsel from others, and what I’ve learned is that others’ advice too often reflects the bias of the advisor. Ultimately, only I can know what’s best for me. Because I’m not very practiced, I must be purposeful about asking myself honestly what I should do. And I am learning not to cling too tightly to my approach; this week for example, I have continued to exercise, but while checking in regularly to see how I am feeling and whether I need to change strategy. I’ve given myself permission to rest, which (perhaps counterintuitively) allows me to give myself permission to exercise without getting too attached to the outcome (e.g. it’s okay if I decide to quit mid-workout, or if I taper my workouts due to fatigue).
How does this example connect back to the cuckoos? I think the point is that it’s helpful to 1) acknowledge and accept when something feels off (trusting that instinct); 2) examine the source of discomfort as fully, honestly, and completely as possible; 3) honestly search within for right answers; and 4) give yourself permission to experiment, or to hold your answers loosely while you search for more information. In terms of ‘how’ you follow the steps above, I find meditation and prayer to be the most helpful tools; that opens up other big topics, which I think we will need to save for another day.
I love you,
Dad
Letters to Leland 