With Your Head, with Your Heart, in the Dark Nights
This is the story of a brilliant, shy man I know. We were joined by a mutual friend who is so dear to each of us. At the time that this story took place, the brilliant, shy man was someone I knew well, but had hardly met.
He stood 6 foot 6 inches tall and, in the English cottages and restaurants where I often saw him, he had to bend quite low to clear the doorways. I was traveling internationally to make a small publishing company happen. He was the CEO of a multi-million dollar international publishing giant. He would always make time to have a meal with me.
He won my heart one day after lunch as we walked to the car. I asked him, “Do you ever have trouble when you’re traveling in another country, deciding whether to go back to the hotel or to go out to dinner with the people who invite you?”
“Oh,” he said. “Those dark nights in a hotel room.”
“Wow!” I thought. “He’s the CEO of an International Publishing Mega-Company and he gets that way too.”
One second, I was walking next to that brilliant, tall person wondering why he took time out for me. Then he said that and I suddenly felt taller. He didn’t look at me, but I literally looked up at him in a way that was new.
You see, he didn’t have to, but he told me he knew.
As time went by, the International Publishing Mega-Company began to ask things of this shy, brilliant man that weren’t who he was. The stockholders asked him to do things that he found counter-intuitive. That took a toll. Then the result of that was that he had to break his word to the people who worked for him, and he had to do it again, and again.
Until finally it exhausted him completely. He was left dazed, a bit broken, and confused. When I went to England, he sent his regrets through our mutual friend. This time he could not see me. Our dear friend said that the tall brilliant man was seeing no one at all, except his own family and our dear friend.
I so wanted to give back what he gave me.
All I could do was send a message through our dear friend.
This is the message I asked our friend to relay,
Just because they talk the loudest, doesn’t make them right.
“Will you tell him, please? It’s important. I want him to know that I know that.”
That’s what I said to our dear friend, and because he is our dear friend, he did.
In time the tall, brilliant man was fine.
Now he is far better than ever.
It’s a gift to tell someone that you know . . . about the dark nights..
We can change the world — just like that.
–ME “Liz” Strauss
I’d like to share a tear with you. Truly exceptional people need motivation, every now and then. You are exceptional too. And I just want you to know you can count on me, as I know I can count on you. Just like that. Once you helped me held my head above the water. Do you know when? Do you? Thank you for being in my life, Liz!
Oh Mihaela,
I can only suspect that I know when that might be — now that you say so — but I didn’t know then.
And the tear is here. Just one. It’s on my right cheek just below my cheek as I type these word to you, dear friend.
The world would be a far better place if everyone had that information. Our bosses, parents, and politicians could all benefit from ignoring the loud ones.
It’s the loud ones that are not going for the best interests of the “collective.” Call them teachers’ pets, daddy’s girls, or special interests, their goals are all the same: ME, ME, ME.
Ignore the loud ones and listen to the quiet ones that far outnumber those who are intrusive.
Hi Jesse,
Yeah, deep inside we all know the truth, but sometimes so many layers of noise drown it out. It’s sad, but we can look after each other and make sure that we know.
That’s how we make each other stronger, taller, and more joyful. 🙂
Oh my dear Liz, thanks for your follow-up post and lesson that so needs to be shared!
Now that I got some sleep, and woke up to your post and followed your link, surprised it was my story, I just completely grasped that I shared some real “personal” stuff, and I tears are shedding.
Thankfully, I feel yours and Mihaela’s virtual hugz right now in support of Changing The World with no pretenses, honest and open for the world to embrace.
Hugz, Ponn
I know, Ponn.
I know.
This is another great post that is right on. That is why I talk about my depression–because other people are in that dark night, and they need to know that they’re not alone, and it does get better.
Hi Shawna!
Every part of the human experience is something someone before us has gone through in some way. Even though I might not have been exactly where you are, if I listen to the truth of what you are saying it is possible that I know in my heart enough to feel and know some of what you know.
I can help you find your truth under the darkness. You can help me find mine. We can hold hands and move forward until we find somewhere with a little more light.
Liz, I’m struck by the tremendous comfort coming from common experience. There is something very powerful for me when I connect with someone else experiencing their long night of the soul. I guess it’s because that is such a solitary, isolating experience – I often have felt alone in the world in those moments. It really helps me when I am up at 3am knowing there are others up as well.
Your story really captures the essence of what happens when I connect to another’s suffering. It opens up compassion for them that helps me be a bit easier on myself. There’s nothing like the bond that comes from our shared experience.
Hi Dave,
I hear you. Yeah, I hear just what is you are saying. Knowing that someone else has been there makes the terrain seem not so scary. It opens up a chance, a hope insides us that the situation is possibly not as permanent and bleak as we might be thinking. That we have a chance to change things. 🙂