May 12, 2026
Dear Leland and Everett,
A particular memory has been rolling around in my head a lot lately; today I want to unpack and explore it.
First, I need to offer a few caveats. I have forgotten far more details than I remember; you will notice this as I describe the memory. I experience this memory almost as if seeing it through a tunnel: the surrounding details are almost completely distorted; only the core of the experience remains. In fact, the memory is such an odd combination of clear (in terms of the key aspects that I recall witnessing) and fuzzy (the surrounding details, which I’m normally pretty good at remembering but in this case are almost completely blurred out or absent) that I’ve started wondering whether I dreamt the original experience. I still believe this is something I experienced, but I don’t think it really matters; what I think matters is that the memory (or dream) keeps replaying in my head.
Here is my best attempt at describing the experience. What feels like 1-2 decades ago, I believe while traveling, I was standing in a fairly public space. From what I recall about the space, it was large and open and crowded, reminiscent of a large and busy train station terminal. Some people were standing around, others were walking. I presume organically, some walking corridors had emerged between pockets of folks standing and milling about.
Standing in a traffic corridor stood a young woman, probably in her early 20s. She was attempting to read something on her phone. People kept bumping into her, which increasingly annoyed her. Each time a passerby bumped her, she writhed or gestured in frustration, as if outraged by the injustice of it all. And after the writhing, she returned to attempting to read her phone again until the next passerby bumped her, at which point the cycle repeated.
I watched in stunned silence from 15-20 feet away. To me, the solution to this situation seemed entirely obvious: move to one of practically infinite locations where others are standing around, thus enabling her to read her phone in peace. Again, this is a fairly large open space, and though it’s crowded the walking paths that have emerged are limited; she could have easily found another location where she could have read without getting bumped.
For whatever reason, she doesn’t relocate. I watch as she gets bumped and angry several times in the span of a couple minutes. I find myself wondering whether she’s simply not aware that she has other options (e.g. is she wearing metaphorical blinders that prevent her from seeing the other options available to her?) or whether she really expects the people following the extemporaneous walking path to all go around her (there is enough foot traffic, and people are moving fast enough going around each other, that this seems completely implausible to me). As far as I a tell, this girl seems to want to live in a fantasy land where she can stand in the middle of this pathway and magically expect the pathway to divert around her. After a few minutes of watching this scene unfold, I eventually give up and move on. In my recollection, I even considered tapping her on the shoulder and giving her advice, but eventually decide to mind my business and move on.
I think the reason this memory keeps replaying in my head is because it reminds me of so much of what I see playing out around me in the world today. Many, many people I know (and don’t know) appear to be intentionally stationing themselves where they are most likely to get uncomfortably jostled, then getting outraged when the jostling occurs. I find myself, fairly regularly, observing someone putting themselves in repeated situations that will drive them crazy, but they keep returning to those situations as if expecting a different outcome.
For a long time I’ve wrestled with the best way to help that girl (and all her metaphorical counterparts in my daily life). I originally thought the replaying of the experience was meant to guide me to a learning about how to help her going forward. In fact, I’m coming to a different conclusion entirely.
I’m starting to realize the girl in the pathway was, on an unconscious level, seeking out the aggravation she was experiencing. She was clearly intelligent enough to find another solution; that she didn’t wasn’t due to any failure of intelligence on her part. I dare say her problem wasn’t even one of perspective: my recollection is that I concluded she wouldn’t have taken my advice, even if I offered it. Even in that moment, that girl seemed determined to remain unhappy. My rather consistent experience interacting with her successors corroborates that decision: folks in her situation rarely take advice that might solve their problems. Even when I try to outline what I consider to be all the realistic options, I am typically dismissed or ignored or even confronted.
It seems crazy to say, but I’m coming to realize that sometimes part of us just wants to be frustrated. I think this is true for all of us, but perhaps more true for some than others. I think the parts of us that want to be frustrated are the parts stuck in fear; experiencing the frustration helps reinforce our feeling of being stuck. It’s a way to reinforce the bars of our metaphorical jail cells, helping us feel small and helpless and trapped.
Why would anyone want to feel small and helpless and trapped? Well, again, these are our fears talking. Our fears are convinced that we are destined to remain trapped. A layer deeper, parts of us are aware of just how much potential we have, and are terrified of what awful things we might do if we achieved our full potential. And of course, part of us wants to justify the fact that we continuously fall so far short of what we know our potential to be. It’s not our better selves who want to feel helpless and trapped, but aspects of our ego that facilitate keeping our ego in charge.
For me, the realization (or reminder really) is that it’s not up to me to decide when that girl is ready to let go of her need to feel trapped. Her path (or at least her realistic options) might seem obvious to me, but that’s irrelevant; so long as she has an emotional and spiritual need to remain stuck, she will find ways to remain stuck. Only when she has experienced enough suffering will she finally open herself to new solutions.
And therein, I think, is the lesson for me today: it’s not up to me when or how that girl (and all the people she represents in my life) wake up. When she has had enough suffering, she will ask for help. And from what I can tell, the universe responds when we ask for help. The help often comes in surprising ways from surprising sources, but in my experience it always comes (at least so long as the ask is genuine).
As I write, I’m realizing that there are three scenarios emerging, each of which invites a different course of action, with discernment required to decide which of the scenarios is presently unfolding. I outlined one scenario in my last letter: when the storm clouds are gathering such that they are prepared to spread darkness and suffering, I am invited to be a light in the storm. Conversely, when one is stuck in frustration of their own making, but not threatening me or others, they can be left alone until they experience enough suffering to want it to stop. And for those who are prepared to make changes, I can offer whatever wisdom or help I can that might be useful.
Regarding that last scenario, one of the things your mom points out to me regularly is that I have a gift for coaching. I think she’s right. To be more specific, I seem to have a gift for identifying others’ talents and how they might be utilized; I’m also good at helping others diagnose their problems and come up with realistic, helpful, compassionate solutions. I have other talents (public speaking, for one), but coaching is among them.
To some degree, right now I am a coach without students (other than the two of you, and maybe a few friends) and a public speaker without an audience. Perhaps this letter is my way of identifying the way in which I am, in fact, the frustrated girl stuck in a trap of my own design. Whether true or not, I do think this letter serves as some small action in an effort to let go of old patterns and create new ones. Hopefully I’ll find the strength and wisdom to continue to explore this space in coming letters, as I do think there are small signs of progress revealing themselves.
Wish me luck.
I love you.
Love,
Dad
Letters to Leland 