The ‘Rough Ways’

Writer and Director Scott Cooper’s “Hostiles” is among my all-time favorite meaningful movies. Set in 1892 New Mexico, the poignantly vulnerable Rosamund Pike plays widowed Mrs. Quaid, who buries her three young daughters killed in the Comanche raid on their home. Christian Bale plays the strong, war-weary Captain Joseph Blocker, who rescued Mrs. Quaid, stands by with his men as Mrs. Quaid crumbles into despair trying to bury her family with her bare hands.

Later, sitting with Joe in the forest meadow, Mrs. Quaid confesses, “Sometime I envy the finality of death. The certainty. And I have to drive those thoughts away when I’m weak.”

Staring into the twilight sky, Mrs. Quaid says, “I’ll never get used to the Lord’s rough ways.” Joe listens in silence.

Mrs. Quaid is a woman of God, a woman of faith. She questions, “If I do not have my faith, what do I have?”

That’s the poignant human inquiry of Director Scott’s narrative. No, the world is far from ideal. The world can be unfair, even unkind. We now all live in these far from ideal times. Tragedy befalls upon everyone, even those who have faith; no one stands immune.

What do we do in the “rough ways” of the less than ideal world? Perhaps, have compassion for others, and for ourselves. Have the willingness and courage to invent our next greater-than versions. Not easy. Yet, we don’t reinvent ourselves in a vacuum. We don’t invent ourselves, albeit alone.

For sure, we’re the ones, who grind it out, who just train. Still, we walk our “road less traveled” along with others. They inspire our next greater version. They love and believe in us, too.

The bad, the sad can occur for no reason, at all. Like happiness can occur for no reason, at all. I endure the “rough ways” by putting in the work, by grinding out my next greater-than version. I do so with those who believe in me, like Sensei, like Mom, like Lance, like John, like Cheryl. Some are no longer here on Planet Earth. Yet, they live within me. I only have mad love and respect.

I pass on their personal legacy and their unconditional love to others. I try to foster the greater-than versions of others like Sensei and Mom did for me. I have compassion for others because I really don’t know what’s going on inside them. I do my best to get them, to get what it’s like to be them, and leave them with that sense of being gotten.

According to Werner Erhard, what human beings want most is being gotten. Being gotten maybe the possibility of love.

Cheryl and I went to see the movie “1917”, nominated for Best Picture in 2020. About 20 minutes into the movie, Cheryl turned to me, “This is too fucking intense…” I got it. We left the movie. Instead, we saw Will Smith in “Bad Boys for Life”. Way better in a narrative tone. Honestly, Will and Martin Lawrence rocked “Bad Boys for Life”. We both had a good, fun time.

Walking out after the movie, Cheryl said, “There was too much death (in “1917”).” Personally, she had experienced “too much death” in 2019. Again, I got Cheryl. I also had experienced “too much death” in 2019. I had my “rough ways”. I had genuine compassion for Cheryl’s space.

In 2019, my high school friend Grant ended his life in suicide, in silence. He was going to get married, again. We spoke earlier that year. Grant sounded full of life. He offered useful hysterical tips for dating on Match dot com. Yet, I didn’t really get how he suffered inside. The saddest part: Grant had suffered all alone, in his silence, feeling that he couldn’t ask anyone for help. That was the heartbreaking part. Grant was a good man. RIP my Brother.

My mom passed away in October 2019 at 89 years-old. She was in hospice care, because of her failing health when she passed. Time is undefeated. Mom raised me to be a good man. She raised me so I wouldn’t need her. Still, I miss her.

Yet, I was happy delivering my Mom’s eulogy back in Honolulu. I expressed what a meaningful life Mom had, what she meant to me. I told part of the world, of my mad love and respect for Mom. The Planet Earth was greater because she was here with us for a time.

For 30 years Chuck has been my best friend and my mentor. He’s a brother to me. At the end of 2019, his brain cancer which had been in stasis aggressively reoccurred. My friend Tom, Chuck, his wife Lisa, and I all had lunch together. Because of the aggressive nature of cancer, Chuck was weakened on his right side. He used a walker and struggled in expressing his words.

Chuck suffered. That landed for me. I profoundly got my unconditional love for him, for the Man he has always been for me. Lunch was wonderful. When we hugged ‘goodbye’, Chuck held on just a little longer. I got it. I held on, too. I love Chuck.

A few weeks later I had lunch with Chuck and Lisa, again. Chuck was on new experimental medication and treatment. He had vastly improved. Instead of a walker, he used a cane. Chuck could clearly speak his thoughts, albeit slowly at times. I dropped some tears.

When we left together, Chuck said, “I love you, kid.” Yeah, Chuck is ALL of 8 months older than me. I said, “I love you, too.” We hugged. I l always love my brother.

In the midst of the worldwide COVID-19 pandemic, we all live through the “rough ways”. Still, in these “rough ways”, hold onto faith, hold onto love. We keep love in our hearts for those we hold dear. No, the world is far from ideal: The world can be unkind or even unfair. So, we grind it out, we keep the faith, we love. We accept what happens. Just saying. Amen.

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