I first met Dyer years ago while exploring my Erroneous Zones. Once over the disappointment of learning that I had misread the title of his little book – I was a college kid looking for insights into those other kinds of ‘zones’ – I kept reading.
Tolstoy’s protagonist, sweating and metal-mouthed on his deathbed, came to see what we already know: the good life includes living with intention. It includes engaging relationships. It is knowing what is truly meaningful.
She would stop, mid-sentence, mid-meal, mid-whatever to assess the minutia of relationships. Everything was parsed and scrutinized. Motivations, the real meanings of words, why someone wore that sweater?