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Life is Defined by its Meetings?

“Love, meaning and connection are the highest goal to which man can aspire.”

- Victor Frankl



I’m back on a plane again. Heading back to Los Angeles after a whirlwind five days in Boston for my birthday. And I can tell in the depths of my being that I am returning a much happier and healthier woman than when I arrived. When I was flying to Boston, I was exhausted from two full days of meetings. I felt out of sorts, unsure of myself and was resenting “meeting for meeting’s sake.”

But this weekend changed my perspective completely.

It’s not that we did anything that extraordinary (although Andrew did a fabulous job in putting together the perfect birthday weekend festivities), from an outsider’s perspective…

We took a bubble bath with a glass of wine. We met up with Anna and Joe (Andrew’s sister and brother-in-law) to watch the Bruins game at a sports bar. We both worked, met up for lunch, and then spent the night at Conor (A’s best friend) and Julie’s house, giggling with sweet baby Claire. We had brunch with the full group above, took a nap, and went furniture shopping for our new townhouse (at which point I had a small cry about mattresses and our differing design tastes – what is Scandanavian mid-century, anyway?). Andrew booked a beautiful hotel, took me for a walk among Christmas lights and negotiated with our server at the Butcher Shop to find me some of their famous Fois Gras. We made love, slept in, had brunch with Andrew’s dear Shakespeare friends, Bob and Leslie, in Cambridge (where we furiously debated politics and foreign perception), and then snuggled in for the films “John Adams,” “The Last of the Mohicans” and Regina’s pizza. Julie came to visit me while Andrew was at work, we met up with Anna and Holly (Andrew’s other sister) for dinner, and snuggled together for our last night before I had to leave early this morning…

I doubt you are all that impressed with my account of the events which have transpired this week. But these moments, these small and subtle meetings, hugged me in ways I didn’t know I needed hugging. They reminded me of what honest and loving and long-term relationships feel like. They showed me little passage-ways into my own heart and soul that I didn’t know existed.

For instance, we got to have our first adult-only conversation with Anna and Joe. I got to have an in-person heart to heart and talk about hopes and dreams with Julie. I got to happen upon the Harvard band playing at Faneuil Hall, and dance with them and play the sleigh bells. I had the sweet, oh-so precious opportunity to watch Andrew chase little baby William (Anna’s son) up the stairs and give him raspberries until he could only squeal with joy. I woke up this morning in the warm embrace of the human I love more than anyone else in the world, feeling nothing but his complete and total adoration.

I literally couldn’t have asked for a better birthday celebration.

And in looking back at the past few days, I am reminded of some advice from an old friend, Dustin Garris. He once told me that, “Life is not about the moments you live. It’s about the moments you remember.”

I’m also reading “Payoff” by Dan Ariely right now, and he states, rather simply, that our motivation in life is derived by love, meaning and connection. And in thinking about those moments I remember over the course of my past 35 years, they nearly all involved making a meaningful connection with another human being.

I’m looking forward to 2017 right now, and I’m making some pretty big professional plans that could make a meaningful impact on the world. But I’m so glad that I’m walking into this planning phase following my birthday weekend in Boston.

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