The promotional single “Hurt” written by Trent Reznor of the industrial rock band Nine Inch Nails was nominated for a Grammy Award in 1996. Years later, in 2002, it was catapulted into further commercial and critical acclaim when Johnny Cash covered the song in his final non-posthumous studio album, American IV: The Man Comes Around. The song’s meaning—akin to other art forms—is subject to interpretation, but the overtones of addiction and despair are clear. It is a magnum opus on hopelessness manifested for reasons that are generally self-inflicted, with the lyrics offering a window into the protagonist’s dark state of mind:
What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know goes away
In the end
And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt
What strikes me most is the verse “My empire of dirt” because it suggests that the narrator sees the fortune he has amassed as being worthless in the end. This is a notable part of the song’s lyrics—the implication that material possessions are unimportant in the grand scheme of life notwithstanding the time, energy, and effort that people expend in acquiring these things.
There is certainly some truth to this kind of perspective—this idea that everything is dust —because all material things, however treasured, degrade over time, and are eventually returned to the earth. Extrapolate further and we will find that even the Earth itself will be nothing more than a celestial artifact. Consider that when the Sun enters its “red giant” phase, approximately 5 billion years from now, it will engulf Mercury and Venus with some scientists speculating the same fate awaits Earth. Little will it matter if the planet is spared because the atmosphere will have already been lost to space making all forms of life extinct. Nihilists aside, there is an alternative way of viewing such an epic catastrophe: In the final scene of Gattaca, Ethan Hawke’s character Vincent Freeman has a revelation while lamenting his departure from Earth after finally achieving his dream of space travel, “They say every atom in our bodies was once part of a star. Maybe I’m not leaving. Maybe I’m going home.”
When we contemplate the hard realities of “dust to dust,” what implications can be drawn? Clearly, there are more questions than answers, but we can rightfully conclude that the opulence depicted in Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous and MTV Cribs has only superficial, temporal value; that money, property, and prestige are fleeting and amount to nothing of real worth. But to what can we assign actual value if even the Earth itself is temporary because it will be ultimately consumed by the Sun? And that the Sun too will cease to exist after evolving into its final stages of becoming a white dwarf and then a black dwarf. In a universe that is perhaps conspiring to silence all that we have ever known, is there anything that can be built to last? Can we derive any meaning in the face of such impermanency? If a truth is discovered, of what utility is it to our professional and personal life?
***
It was a dreary, overcast day—the kind that fit the mood of the occasion I was returning from. Toni insisted that I stop by after attending the wake because the funeral home was in a neighboring town. I could see that the lights were on in her kitchen, and so I gently tapped on the storm door rather than ring the bell.
“Door’s open,” she shouted.
I let myself in and saw her seated at the kitchen table thumbing through a grocery circular, clipping coupons. She peered over her reading glasses and welcomed me inside. “Hey. It was getting late and started wondering if you were going to make it.”
“Sorry about that. She worked for me the whole time I’ve been with the courts and so I felt compelled to stay until the end. But really, I wanted the opportunity to get more acquainted with her family. I felt that it was important to tell them how much she meant to our division.”
“That was kind of you,” Toni replied.
“I guess, but the irony is that I did a lot more listening than talking. And I assure you I had plenty of my own experiences with her to share.”
“Sounds like she was an extraordinary person and was highly regarded by many folks,” Toni concluded. “Come, sit. I knew you would naturally be a bit melancholic, so I made you something that I think will lighten your spirit,” she stated gesturing toward the empty chair across the table from her.
I sat down and let out a sigh. Slouching a bit in the chair, my focus shifted to the two teacups on the table. A tiny metal stand with a semicircular base with a spit protruded a few inches above each of the cups. Toni had impaled a small clump of cotton candy onto the spit so that it resembled a cloud.
The steam rising from the tea began to dissolve the sugary canopy that hung over the cup slowly sweetening the black tea. “That’s inventive. I’ve never seen this before,” I stated.
“I can’t take credit for it. I came across a food article about a coffee shop in Singapore that had this on their menu. I figured if they’re doing it with coffee, it would probably pare just as well—maybe even better—with the right tea. And so here you go.”
I took a sip and the dark, malty flavor of the tea counterbalanced by the sweet burst of the threaded confection was superb. “Well, I’ve been transported to the carnival my elementary school would have every spring as a fundraiser.”
“I remember those,” Toni said with a smile.
“I always looked forward to that one week in May.”
“It never ceased to amaze me how many rides, game trailers, and concession stands fit in that parking lot and adjacent street the city would block off. But I’m glad you like my experimental tea,” she replied.
“I love it—it’s delicious. Not a bad idea to steal.”
“Borrowed. I borrowed the idea and made a different application for its use,” Toni corrected.
“Okay. Okay. It was worth borrowing,” I acquiesced. “This ‘cloud tea’ has buoyed my mood, but your company always has that effect on me.”
“Ha—I’ll take the compliment and believe me when I say the feeling is mutual.” Each of us took another sip and reminisced about the assortment of food that was sold at the annual carnival. There was a momentary silence when Toni smiled and reached over to touch my arm saying, “I’m sorry you lost a colleague and friend. It’s an awful feeling but if it’s any consolation, I can tell you that she was successful because of the one thing that I am sure of in this life,” Toni asserted.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“In the end, the only thing that matters, truly matters, is our relationships with others. And based on what you’ve told me, the memory of her goodwill lives on in the minds of the people who had the benefit of knowing her.”
“Maybe,” I replied not entirely convinced of her view.
“That sure sounds like you’re doubting me.”
“I trust what you’re saying, but I’m not entirely convinced on the conclusion you’ve reached.”
“That’s understandable, but I’ll prove it to you. You’re a baseball fan, right?”
“My all-time favorite sport.”
“Okay—can you name the last five MVPs in each league?” she asked.
“Um—I can’t even recall who won it last year.”
“Right. What about movies? Do you still enjoy watching some of the classics and latest releases?”
“Probably just as much as baseball, although I don’t go to the theater nearly as much as I used to.”
“Fair enough. Who won the Oscar for best actor last year?”
“Wait, I know this,” I stated. As I thought about it for a moment longer, I realized that I didn’t, “Actually, maybe I don’t. So, who was the MVP and Oscar winner last year?” I asked.
“No clue. I couldn’t tell you who won the most recent Pulitzer either—something I genuinely care about. But you can Google it later.”
“I’m not sure I’m following your point, Toni.”
“Patience,” she stated raising her hand slightly off the table. “I’m not done making it. Let me ask you this: Can you name a teacher from your elementary school that made a positive difference in your life?”
“Sure, that’s easy. Mrs. Magnolia. She taught me the multiplication tables.”
“Now that didn’t take you long, did it?”
“I’m beginning to see where you’re going with this.”
“You couldn’t recall some of the most successful persons in their respective fields— areas that you actually keep up with, mind you—but had no problem remembering someone who made an actual difference in your life.”
“You’re right,” I agreed.
“It’s not any different than the impact your colleague had on her coworkers, family, and friends. As you can see, her success, anyone’s success, is not about the showcase of your wealth, awards, or prized possessions. Those might be some indicators of achievement, but that’s not what defines people.”
“I certainly subscribe to that because if we measured our career in the courts based on fame and fortune, we’d be abject failures. But I’m not sure everyone feels the same way, Toni.”
“That’s because they’re taking a shortcut to thinking. You can also look at it in another way: Many years from now, someone else will be working in the office and living in the home that you once occupied. All of it will belong to someone else until they’re gone. But what remains long after these things are gone and forgotten are the relationships you forged with the people around you.”
“But once that person is gone isn’t that even temporary?” I asked.
“Of course everything has a shelf life, but you’ll never know how the experiences you gave others influenced them in the relationships they have with the people in their lives.”
“And so on and so forth,” I concluded.
“That’s precisely it! How your colleague used her knowledge and skills to inform and help others hone their craft is going to be around a lot longer than the ‘Employee of the Month’ award that hung in her office.”
“Your point is a salient one, Toni, but does the impermanent nature of life itself trouble you or does the acceptance of this reality get easier with age?”
“Well, in my mind the eternal footman’s knocking at my door is less bothersome than the timing of his arrival.”
“Yeah. That really bothers me,” I pondered.
“Haha,” Toni chuckled as if her response suddenly reminded me of the sporadic nature of death. “I think it’s less troubling (at least for me) if you use your time judiciously—no pun intended. Which is to say, being impactful to the people in your life. Obviously, the more time you have, the breadth and depth of your commitment to the lives of others can vary.”
“So, it’s all about our relationships.”
“Yes, it’s worth more than gold and it’s better than money in the bank because unlike those things, it keeps you connected to the people living in this place we call home long after you’re gone.”
***
In the third and final instalment of his lexical trilogy, Whistling in the Dark: A Doubter’s Dictionary, Frederick Buechner provided a powerful narrative on the perpetuity of the bonds we form:
When you remember me, it means that you have carried something of who I am with you, that I have left some mark of who I am on who you are. It means that you can summon me back to your mind even though countless years and miles may stand between us. It means that if we meet again, you will know me. It means that even after I die, you can still see my face and hear my voice and speak to me in your heart. For as long as you remember me, I am never entirely lost.
The sentiment is echoed in Margaret Mead’s poem, Remember Me, where she waxed eloquent about what it means to live in the minds of those we leave behind:
Remember me in your heart, your thoughts,
your memories of the times we loved,
the times we cried,
the times we fought,
the times we laughed.
For if you always think of me,
I will never be gone.
These reflections by Buechner and Mead speak to Toni’s point about the great importance of relationships. The connections we develop transcend time and space; for better or worse, experiences with people whose path intersects with ours matter most because of the profound influence it can have on thoughts and actions even when they are not physically present. In this sense, they can be everywhere all at once, notwithstanding whether the person being affected is conscious of it. Relatedly, the authors’ musings are a reminder to focus less on consumption and the accumulation of things—to shift our mindset to live with purpose and in service to others.
Approaching our work in the courts with diligence and enthusiasm provides a unique opportunity to leave a lasting impression on friends, colleagues, and the public. Because the institution is instrumental in safeguarding civil liberties and ungirds society from the pitfalls of populism, it brings to bear the relative importance and notable impact the work can have on the world around us. The relationships we foster as practitioners are critical not only to shaping our legacies but also to enabling others to do the same for themselves. Our professional and, more importantly, personal interactions with people cannot, therefore, be understated; on the contrary, these exchanges can be enormously powerful if we are receptive to the possibilities.
We must think on a grander scale of this thing we own. The conjecture raised by Warren Schmidt, the character played by Jack Nicholson in About Schmidt, “Once I am dead and everyone who knew me dies too, it will be as though I never existed,” was wrong. He was largely mistaken because he failed to acknowledge the possibility that his existence could have had on others, who could be transformed by virtue of these experiences and go on to benefit the lives of people he would never know. While we may have no direct recollection of our ancestors, the experiences of their relationships were certainly not inconsequential to our present-day social location. A pebble tossed gently into a pond can still create ripples that extend to the outer edges of its world. How (or if) you decide to be that pebble is a different matter.
A genuine care for the good of others and a passionate drive to help find meaningful answers to the questions that confound us are at the core of our relationships. Some may be rewarded with an abundance of material goods for the contributions they make in this life, but the capacity to be human and create experiences with others on what it is to be human, however brief it may be, is the most important thing we will ever possess. More than any other thing, while on this expedition around the Sun, our willingness and ability to connect with others to positively impact the trajectory of their life has the greatest value from which meaning can be drawn. Everything else will be lost to that glowing sphere of hydrogen and helium.
And those are just some of my musings on management.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Giuseppe M. Fazari has been musing about management concepts and practices throughout his career as an administrator, consultant, and academic. Contact him at fazarigm@icloud.com.
