
Years ago, before all of the multi layered security and traffic restrictions, it was common to see someone off at the airport. There would be tearful hugs at the gate, joyful reunions as loved ones emerged from an arriving flight, and all of the more mundane hellos and goodbyes in-between. Whole plots of movies and books turned on the just-missed departure, or the drama of a final boarding call.
It’s been so long since this tradition has been able to be practiced in the United States that I’d almost forgotten about it. But on my outbound flight to Japan recently, the entire airline team from Logan lined up on the tarmac to wave farewell. Though I’d only met the check-in agents for a moment or two, it was such a touching sight that tears sprang to my eyes.
For the following week, every doorway I entered came with a warm personal greeting. Every departure I made included an expression of thanks and goodwill. Not once invisible. Not once unwelcome.
How lovely to be bidden farewell. How heartwarming to be greeted. How much we lose when these tiny rituals are deleted.
Dear ones, though the TSA might limit us, our arrivals and departures are worthy of notice.
Let us be welcome guests, wherever we may be.
Let us welcome others in return.

The financial world has lost a legend in the passing of Byron Wien, longtime strategist at Morgan Stanley and more recently Vice Chair at Blackstone Advisory Partners. For many years he had the courage to publish his signature “10 Surprises of the Coming Year” list, and even more courageously, at the end of each year he took account of his prior bets, publicly and objectively. As a young analyst, this kind of example from a senior practitioner had a tremendous influence on me – but these life lessons he shared later on in his carer have stuck with me even more.
May we all have teachers as generous as Byron, with wisdom as great as this to impart.
Here are some of the lessons I have learned in my first 80 years. I hope to continue to practice them in the next 80.

I lived in Japan during college, and have only been back for business travel since then. Until this season! I can’t wait to return and to experience the disorientation that comes from visiting a place that is at once familiar and also a distant memory.
Different sounds, different tastes, different sights… and underneath all of that, different history, different influences, different ideas.
And underneath that, discovery. Joy. Unity.
Dear ones, may we dive so deep in the unfamiliar that it becomes home.
May we revel in peeling the potatoes.

Sometimes the questions have no answers.
Sometimes helpless and hopeless intertwine.
Sometimes griefs compound.
And,
sometimes the sun and the moon and the earth align
and the planet cools in shadow
and even the birds pause in their cries
and there is a moment of sacred peace.
Petroglyphs at Mesa Verde, about 800 years old.

About once a year, I review the foundational Leverage Points essay by Donella Meadows. Like a great painting or novel, new insights emerge every time.
This year, the essay led me down a path to Meadows’ talk at a 1994 academic conference, where the stated topic was Envisioning a Sustainable World. Courageously setting her academic presentation aside, Dana noted that as we are trained in our various fields of analysis and decision-making and specialized knowledge, we are “systematically un-trained” in visioning, much to our detriment.
We can share our cynicism with total strangers, but we can’t share our dreams, our hopes, our deepest longings. Why?
Once you are clear in your vision, you will see it in pieces and patches everywhere, coming into being.
Don’t grasp too hard.
Just notice.
Dear friends, vision needs practice, like anything else.
Let’s speak our dreams, even if a whisper.
Let’s look for the pieces and patches,
coming into being.