Pablo Picasso said once that it takes a long time to become young. I think I know what he means. It took me even longer to become real. I experienced happiness later in life, which is precious to me. I’ve learned that for me to be happy, I need to be known.
I was sorry to get a message this week from a long-time blog reader disturbed by the typos that often appear on my blog. I have a thick skin by now, but this message hurt me in several ways.
“I don’t know how your dyslexia affects you, but can I suggest that you read over your posts very carefully before you publish? Maybe you could ask Maria to proofread it for you.
Over the years, as much as I enjoy your writing, the beauty, fun, and enjoyment are often interrupted.
I genuinely hope I haven’t offended you by writing this. Your books and your blog and photos have given me (and so many others) so much.”
The letter both offended and saddened me and, yes, hurt me. This was a supporter of my work and a follower of my blog. She assumed I never read over my work, blew past the Dyslexia quickly enough, as if it were nothing more than a mosquito bite, suggested Maria should come out of her studio and clean up my writing and said my errors interrupted her enjoyment of my work.
I’m sure she meant no harm in her mind, and when she was challenged, she stormed off in a huff, outraged that I had questioned her sensitivity.
This is an old story for anyone who writes in the open. People are often convinced that they know me well enough to tell me how to do my work or live my life, but they don’t really know me at all, it often turns out. This, then, was a story about being known – on both sides.
We exchanged disconnected messages, and we said goodbye. This has happened too many times. Several months ago, I decided to try something different.
I realize now what a fantastic idea it was for me to have formed a weekly Zoom meeting of blog readers (mine and Maria’s). To my surprise and great delight, we are coming to know each other – not as fans or minor celebrities – but as real human beings. Every week, we share the stories of our lives, history, and families, and we form genuine friendships that are so elusive on the computer.
Everyone gets to speak; everyone gets to listen.
We never have those he-said-she-said arguments or misunderstandings; we support and comfort each other and are getting to know each other. A shrink told me once when you get a message and have no idea what has just happened and feel uneasy, run.
Just run. When something feels wrong, it is.
The point of my mentioning all this was that the message and exchange were disturbing. She had interrupted my thoughts as well.
I was at Bishop Gibbons then and couldn’t have been happier watching all those young artists show off their work, taking photos, and talking with them.
I’ve only recently been diagnosed with Dyslexia and am just beginning to realize the impact this disorder has had on my life. When I grew up, dyslexia wasn’t known.
Most teachers – and my father – thought I was stupid or lazy and told me so. Everyone was disappointed in me.
My readers, even the retired English Teachers, have understood and accepted me over time after some scolding and fussing. Good teachers, even frustrated ones, know never to write a message like that to someone with a disability. It shames them. It goes way beyond asking your partner to proofread everything you write.
Good teachers – there are many – always want to help somehow and usually agree that perfect grammar is not nearly as essential as the ideas and emotions in writing. Grammar has almost nothing to do with good writing. It would help if people took a peek at the manuscripts John Updike sent to his editors.
People tell me I am sometimes too sensitive, quick to anger, and lash out, and they are right.
But I’ve never come close to doing that with my new Zoom community.
I realized when I got this message that few things in life make me happier than my blog, a triumph over my dyslexia and for my determination and a comfortable home for my writing after I left my book life behind and my publisher left me behind. (My Dyslexia has never prevented me from doing what I wanted to do – including my blog). To her credit, she would beat me senselessly if I asked her to proofread everything I wrote.
That’s not what I want. Her evolution as an artist is one of the joys of my life. She is not a proofreader; she is an artist.
And yes, I am sensitive, and anger over my struggle to see letters correctly is still deep in me. I haven’t yet learned how not to be exposed and sometimes vulnerable. I chose to live in the open; no one forced me.
So. Suck it up, Jon.
But I am learning to be happy, and those traits are receding.
I think the core of my love for Maria and her love for me is that we know one another, and we listen to each other – and we hear each other. Love makes that happen, and trust, and it also makes me incredibly happy to be known.
It is not easy to establish trust through e-mail and text messages. Zoom has made it more accessible; we can see one another and talk and listen. It is lovely to see the faces of people when they talk.
My blog makes me happy partly because I refused to listen to the people who warned me that I could never publish a blog daily and write as often as I do. I decided from the first that I would spend my time writing and not proofreading, which has nothing to do with good writing in my mind.
I am learning to deal with it; I learn something new daily, and I work on it every day. I’m learning that I am not stupid or rebellious. The blog helped me see that. I’m getting there.
My longtime fan read me for years and read my books and my blog, but she doesn’t know me at all. She didn’t grasp that I am happy now, after many years of struggling and searching and hurting, or why. Typos mean nothing to me.
My happiness meant nothing to her. The disheartening exchange got me thinking all the way home from Bishop Gibbons about what happiness meant and how I got there.
I am always learning what a friend is and isn’t. And it is never about donations or money.
I fear this is all something about me that other people may never quite grasp because it can’t be seen, even though they have read my work every day for years. Believe me; I don’t write to disappoint anyone or disrupt their chain of thought. I would love to be loved and loved. The human world is not built around that idea; we must build a structure inside us to cope with it and move forward.
And why should they know me, and how could they understand me? They don’t know me and have never spoken to me or met me. They only know what I choose to tell them. It’s very different with my Zoom friends.
This fantastic, invasive, and troubling new media makes us connected strangers, tied to one another by nothing but air. There is so much anger and misunderstanding.
But we rarely know one another.
Being known is a huge part of my happiness. And I see that we can build new communities of love and connection together if we stick with it and listen. My idea of happiness is to learn to be a better human and never give up an effort.
But what does happiness mean to me?
I think it is, in the end, both simple and straightforward. For me, happiness is about developing a spiritual and interior life that makes it possible to weather the external demands of life – like that letter, for instance, or a surprise $1,000 car tire bill.
I realized happiness was much more straightforward than I was told, learned, saw, or was taught. Satisfaction is all about the basics of life – getting in touch with my true and spiritual self. It meant a balanced life – work, love, nature, animals, writing, and photography.
It means working not to harm and doing some good every day.
The primary test of the good life is happiness. Am I succeeding in becoming a person, a person who is genuine and not hidden or contrived or seething with anger and rage?
I grew up with false ideas of both happiness and success.
It created an incorrect ambition and meaningless goals that left me in fear, eternal discontent, too wound up and distracted to enjoy my life, and too committed to the very elements of life that do not last or bring peace and contentment.
Joah Chittister’s definition of success deeply touches me:
“The blessing of real success lies in the fact that sometimes in life, we come to the point where we never overemphasize any one side of it again. Instead, we come to live easily and fully in all aspects of it.”
Happiness knows who I am, accepting, facing my many flaws, and still learning to love myself and my life. People will say what they want about me, make assumptions about me, love me, and also say hurtful things about me.
The thing about happiness is that I know who I am now, and there is nothing they can say to me that I don’t understand about myself. Some people will never understand that.
I have nothing to hide, no secrets to protect. I am vulnerable and out there, and at the same time, no longer susceptible.
I live in the open with nothing to hide, working every day to tell my truth.
I need to be known.
It makes me very happy.
BFD!
As much and often as you write, and you have to factor in spell checker changing your words, there’s bound to be a “typo” now and then. B. F. D. There’s a million of us that love your blog just the way it is.
Keep doing exactly what you do. You’ve proven yourself time and again with the great books you’ve written. You’ve nothing to prove.
Very nice message, Steve. thanks..
I appreciate your blog Jon. I have a reader for years. Typos or not that won’t stop me being a reader.
I have had severe back pain lately and I am now recovering from surgery. Your blog has encouraged me, brought life to me and joy in your beautiful flower power pics.
I fully agree with Steve!
I love these last three sentences.
“I live in the open with nothing to hide, working every day to tell my truth. I need to be known. It makes me very happy.” That sums it up very well, and inspires me to be more like you. Thank you for your openness, and for letting us into your world.
Love your blog just the way it is.
Don’t be discouraged by nay-sayers.
Keep up this good work.
From a Canadian admirer in Regina, Saskatchewan, Canada…
Say now, wasn’t there a certain very philosophical writer who mentioned in a famous essay that his wife checks over and types up his handiwork for him? Gosh, readers were sure upset by the idea that he was putting her to work! Even though the spouses were a team and she apparently enjoyed being the first to see his thoughts on paper and discussing them as the essay developed. Sure, this blog has at times a unique spelling style. It invites me to pay attention with special care and appreciation. What is especially nice is that The Style sometimes contains echoes of similar words that suggest intriguing allusions and meanings. It is a unique trait to look forward to and savor and enjoy, and makes one think more deeply about the amazing possibilities of English. You have no need whatsoever of my vote or opinion, but it’s a little confetti fluff waved from the back of the parade.
Keep living in the *open*, Jon! A few typo’s here or there never, ever hinders my enjoyment of your writing. It’s the bigger *picture* I am looking for, and am always rewarded by. I am sad to think anyone might find those few instances disturbing to their thought process or enjoyment. Like not being able to see the forest for the trees?
Susan M
My brother, age 66, had learning disabilities growing up. The school treated him abominably. He was obviously intelligent, yet couldn’t seem to do the school work. He was ridiculed and picked on by teachers, administrators, & the children who learned from their example to treat my brother abusively. He became and still is, a very angry person. He is very hard to get along with. My mother said he didn’t have any problems until he started school. I am glad that these things are more recognized today along with the fact that children learn differently. The pain the school system caused my family is incalculable.
I for one am glad that your writing is not always perfect. I think it adds to the honesty of the pieces. No one writes perfectly and as an elementary teacher your perseverance through dyslexia and its challenges gives me hope and inspiration for the often brilliant and creative but struggling students with dyslexia in my classes. Thank you.
My word there are some truly persnickety souls out there with too much time on their hands.
Your words, no matter how spelled, are meaningful and I look forward to reading them, with no distractions , each day! Thank you –
I know the hurt of being corrected in that manner. I have a hearing problem and do not hear words correctly so I mispronounced many words. People will interrupt me when an talking trying to express an idea. Not only is it rude but it also shows that they were not interested in what I want e?d to say but it brings a stop to the thinking. If do not hear words correctly then it is hard to say words correctly.
I have learned that most people who persist in asking me for a really large behavioral or character change are doomed to failure. I heard them the first time, and am sensitive to having my so called deficiencies repeatedly brought up. Raised with that style of parenting, high volume and violent, as were/are many. It did not work with an impressionable child, sure does not work now.
The damn light bulb has to want to change, and I have changed out of all recognition. Not caring what others think has been initially alarming (what if I am too odd to get along in this world?) and a long exhale of relief.
That poor woman. Back to trying to make the world change to be comfortable. Never worked for me.
I’m with Steve. She can get over it. God. I LOVE your blog. I love the way you write, with honesty and vulnerability. I love that you aren’t wondering what good you can do, you’re just doing it, and writing about it, and inspiring us by your writing. You owe us readers nothing. We are not here on this earth to be or do or present a version of ourselves that NO ONE could find upsetting, or irritating, or wrong or whatever else. That kind of effort results in mental and soul illness. Ugh. Happiness for me is live and let live, do what I can in my acre – all forms of detaching with love. This is a priceless life skill, that when practiced, brings real peace and happiness.
I completely echo Steve’s message. You have taken me on so many interesting journeys, opened my mind to so many new worlds, provided me with new books to help me on life’s journey. I am not perfect, I make typos, mistakes and errors but I am still upright and loving my life.
Thanks to you.
Me too. And I enjoy your photos. That’s why I support your Blog. Totality worth it.
What Steve says (above). My phone often spells creatively or inserts words it is not my intention to write. I correct when I can but often shrug after a message has been sent and say to myself “this is the world we live in now” – technology has its drawbacks. I do not care about typos – the message is what is important.
The spiritual exploration of your own life, that you share with your readers in real time, through your words and photos, is a priceless offering. The true response for a reader, it seems to me, of any spiritual inquiry writing, is to take in what the writer has shared, and wonder, with curiosity, how you are alike, how you might be different, but ultimately, how you can hold more compassion and understanding for both self and “other.” If I were this woman’s friend or mentor, I might ask her where else in her life she is unable to accept imperfections? I might ask her where she holds impossible standards for herself? I might ask her, when else is she taken out of the beauty of her life, by something unexpected or unasked for, and how might she learn to soften into the flow of life with a looser grasp, to hold more of its inconsistencies and complexities? But I am not this woman’s mentor, so I can only wish that in the future, she might pause to consider that if she needs the caveat, “I hope this doesn’t offend”, it likely will and doesn’t need to be sent. But writing about how it landed for you when it was sent, what you learned and are still learning, is again….priceless. Thank you as always for your voice.
I too have dyslexia and recognize it now and just say oh well. You make very few typos, do not listen to her, she is mistaken. I am impressed at how easily you write daily. you cannot know a person from an email or or a text it just isn’t possible. Let it go !!!!!!! thanks for being so honest with all us strangers
How can the “fan” profess in one sentence how much your blog, et al, has meant to her over the years, and then choose to critique how you put out the finished product! Why now?
My former husband, now 81, grew up when dyslexia wasn’t even a “thing.” The taunting and misunderstanding he endured as a child and teen were heartbreaking. There are many conditions that were heartbreaking because of the ignorance of the populace. Dyslexia was one of them.
Carry on, Jon. We’re all out here doing the best we can with what we’ve got. You, obviously, are nailing the challenge.
I love your typos! They challenge me to figure out what was really meant. When I read it is your message and ideas that shine through. Then I go back and if a typo caught my attention figure it out. By the way in this long blog message, I find no typos.
I agree! I could not care less about typos, half the time they are the result of the computer deciding on its own what someone meant and changing it and is not what was actually typed! I really get far more annoyed with people that feel they have to point out every typo or misspelling on every blog or post instead of appreciating the content and intent.
It seems pointless and a waste of energy to me to spend much time obsessing over finding every last typo than in pursuing the excitement of expressing your heartfelt thoughts and ideas, your writing is your art.
I love dyslexia………chaos/spirituality……imperfection etc.
thanks for Sr. Joan Chittester
I second Steve’s message. I have read your books and blog for many years. I’ve enjoyed reading all that you’ve written so far, and I’ll continue to do so for as long as you write and I can see to read. There have been many times that I’ve nodded in recognition withwhat you’ve written, or gasped with joy over a photo. I’ve grown as a human because you’re so open and honest in your writing.
Please keep doing what you’re doing because you bring joy and beauty to the world.
I’ve learned to look past the typos and grasp your meaning. It’s sad that they couldn’t learn to do the same.
What a hoot to suggest Maria proofread your writing! She’s far too busy creating beauty with her art to waste her time doing that!
I want to thank you all for these wonderful and affirmative messages. I am okay with my dyslexia, and I assume some people will be made uncomfortable with it. My exchange with this person is not important in the long run. It made me realize how important being known is to me; I’m a big boy, and we always learn from challenges. I think the lesson for me is that it is never a good idea to tell other people what to do or how to live unless you know them intimately and your opinions are sought. We meet one another every day in this strange and sometimes wonderful world, but I am reminded that getting to really know someone often takes some additional work and thought. These messages remind me of something else – there are many people out there who DO know me and care for me. That just about brings me to tears, and thanks. That is really what happiness is all about.