The Wino and I Know

This little essay has nothing to do with the title above. It's the title of a Jimmy Buffett song I heard for the first time yesterday, and I couldn't resist borrowing it. I want to talk instead about how we can integrate the negative stuff that is in our lives, or meet the challenges that come our way—internally or externally—in such a way as to make us able to get past them and avoid letting them paralyze us. Whether it is internal or external, my reaction is my own, it's in me and I own it. The negative stuff is there, but how I react is here in me. So I think we can skip distinguishing between external and internal "stuff." The issue is how I'm reacting to it. I understand that how I'm reacting doesn't always seem to be controllable, but it is my creation.
Sometimes, I just get stuck. I have something getting in my way, or making me feel trapped in a box. Inside the box I can scarcely breathe, but it is still a box that I have convinced myself is inescapable. Knowing the box is one I devised for myself is a good first step. No matter what the box looks or feels like, if I look at it closely, I can find a time I forgot about the box and took a step of some kind that changed the situation. I may have jumped right back in the box, but that step's still out there. I did it, and a new chain of events can follow that step. If I can't see that, I may need someone close to me to point it out and challenge me to build on it, to foster some follow through on my part. Or that person only needs to point it out. Or just provide some positive feedback about it. Show me the way? In my life, taking some kind of action has kicked things off. Hard as it was, if I can just force that first step, I am good and we can build on it.
But what if that first step isn't possible? I just can't bring myself to do a thing, take a step, anything. Another possibility arises—you can tell someone (someone close that you trust, of course) about your fear or fears. If that person will listen and offer some empathy and encouragement, it might help you screw up the courage to take a step. How do you find the strength or courage to act or just to acknowledge your fear? Just remind yourself of this line-- "I'm just trying to get by being quiet and shy in a world full of pushin' and shovin'." You may be shy about tackling whatever is making you get stuck, but you can try. The world may seem to be pushing and shoving, but you can get by most things if you try (and only if you do).
Oh, and I lied about the title. The line I just quoted is from Jimmy's song, it just came out, I couldn't help it.

Life’s Too Short For Rush Limbaugh

The Universe is sending a broadband message—the clock is ticking. Impermanence is the only permanent thing in this plane. Today, it has me thinking about life in terms of more and less. What do I want more of in my life? Music, songs about summer, long conversations with friends, Nature--walks on the beach, visits north in the summer. Oh, and I suppose regular exercise, breathing deeply; there's more in my head, but that's a good start. Less is where old Rush fits in. Don't get me wrong, I have listened to him on and off for years. More often than not, I found him persuasive, and, on occasion, amusing. But, to some extent, this is a zero-sum game. Something has to go, to make room, no? More music… No more Rush! For some, any old reason is good enough, I'm afraid.

Now, the same goes for those long conversations with dear friends. More of those requires less TV, surely. Not even HGTV (just kidding, I only mention it as it is like background noise at my house). But that's not all, most important of these is Nature. What has to move out to make room for Nature? I'll need more room, somehow, metaphorically speaking. Can the world expand?

Like my closet, if I want everything to fit in the space allotted to me, I really ought to give away a shirt or a pair of slacks whenever I buy new. A good friend of mine tells me I have to create a more expansive view of the world I live in to take in what life hands me. Maybe those shirts and slacks wind up in the hands of someone who needs them and my world is expanding this way. You know me, the pragmatic side.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         

Transitions

Step one happened this year, on the last full day of spring, I finally noticed everything coming apart. I only admitted my reaction to one friend. Step two I took on the first day of summer, it meant asking for help (oh, how we men hate that!). But I managed it. Steps 3, 4 and 5 today—I went public and probably burned a bridge behind me. And I'm in a free falling, full-blown transition. I spent years trying to plan this, but now it's out of control. It happened only because I acted and forgot all about planning. Tonight I resisted the master procrastinator's (oops, I meant planner's) usual move. It goes like this—"Jim, pick up a book and read about it and then we'll put a plan together." I don't think transitions ever happen that way. They get put off, that's all.

I can't really define it, but all the transitions in my life started with an action, not a plan. Where will it take me and what will I make of it? I spoke to a friend of 40 years about this quietly over the weekend before going public and tonight I remembered he was around for another one of those moments. We both jumped into something no one really expected of either of us, and off we went—joining a group of two dozen—it was totally out of character, unplanned and magnificent. We never dreamed we'd wind up here in a sort of paradise, but I think that transition had a hand in getting us here.

Another transition or two happened in between, mostly done without a plan in mind, and on short notice. I married a young woman after perhaps a half dozen dates (we lived about 300 miles apart at the time of the first Arab oil embargo. Gas was being rationed to gas stations, so they shortened their hours, and I was nearly stranded a couple of times). Anyway, we had limited opportunities to spend time together. With that forced compression weighing on us, we decided we loved each other, not exactly sure why, but we were convinced we could make a go of it—so we jumped in and started swimming. We moved to the Southeast, on my impulse, and over her objections, but it worked out and landed us here. Now, I've jumped into the next phase. But it wasn't logical or planned—I just did it. Look out.

Introverts and Introspection

A friend of mine recently told me that solitude (not loneliness) gave "freer rein to her introversion." Humph, I thought, she must mean introspection. Now she has a far better vocabulary and writes far better than I, but I thought maybe I had her on this one. So I went looking at Merriam-Webster and learned to my chagrin that both words mean a reflective turn inward or to turn inward upon oneself. I shrugged it off, and thought no more about it. I know a little about the subject as I regard myself as an introvert, but all the same, the two words hardly differ at all. I had some thoughts about the value of introspection and intended to write some about it, but there was something that needed saying about the value of seeking out the occasional opportunity to cultivate introversion and I couldn't put my finger on it.
I am revisiting the question now, as I read a research report from 23andMe, a California-based genetic research organization, that people like me who have Parkinson's tend to share certain personality characteristics—they are more agreeable, more neurotic and anxious and less extraverted (or more introverted). Agreeable sort that I am, I can see some of that in me. I don't believe that introversion is a weakness. It may not equip me for certain occupations and I may have had to work harder to accomplish certain tasks. However, I have always valued the inner life I found in others, and especially enjoy hearing them share it. Is that simply because these are kindred spirits? I think I have found that something that was missing. Buddhists believe we must look within to find the end to suffering, to awaken. I get that, but I have never been confused about how challenging that path is.
There is really something more straightforward. I think Emerson said it best. "What lies behind us and what lies before us are small matters compared to what lies within us. And when we bring what is within us out into the world, miracles happen." There is something that lies within that is worth pursuing, not to the exclusion of all else, but certainly not to be ignored. So grab some solitude if that works or find an opportunity to talk about what you learn, think, and feel. Look for the miracle.

Rabbit’s Foot, Horseshoes, and Other Amulets

Today I walked up a parking lot driveway on my way out of a hotel, and had to detour around a small animal's carcass, killed on the road, probably during the night. I was already a few steps past when I realized it had been a rabbit. I retraced my steps and confirmed its left hind foot was still intact. I didn't have to work too hard to resist the urge to recover it (gross!). But its value as an amulet is questionable in so many ways. What's lucky about getting run over in the road? For that matter, what's lucky about getting shot in a cemetery in the dark of the moon (that's the true necessity for a lucky rabbit's foot)? It made me wonder about other amulets—like horseshoes, for example. Is there some sort of foot thing going on in the world of amulets? As it turns out, much of the good luck attributed to the horseshoe comes from the blacksmith--the maker of the horseshoe—and the fact the shoes are always mounted with seven nails.

Blacksmiths work with elemental fire and magical iron, and they work with horses. Hence they have power and prestige. It is said that getting married by a blacksmith will increase the likelihood of a long and happy marriage—that's having the ceremony performed by a blacksmith, not marrying one. In any event, no rationale is provided as to why either a rabbit's foot or a horseshoe is lucky. Using any form of the word "rational" in discussing luck makes no sense anyway. True rationalists would point to the logical fallacy of "post hoc ergo propter hoc," meaning just because events occur sequentially, they are connected causally as well is not rational at all. Another way of expressing it is by referring to perspective is the gambler's fallacy—I haven't rolled a 7 all week, so today's my lucky day. I like his definition the best—luck is the name we give to events after they occur which we find to be fortuitous and perhaps improbable. Like, it was a good thing I wasn't chasing that rabbit when the car ran over him. Maybe I need that foot after all….

Becoming An Answer

Life, I am sure, provides challenges and questions for all. No matter what it is, each of us has a struggle, and those struggles continue, regardless of their name. I know there are only a handful who read these musings, and that is not likely to change. But readers and non-readers alike, we are united by a bond I've come to know. Challenge, whether it arises from divorce, disease, death or some other disaster, is just around the corner. It's part of the human condition. Those challenges may come and go, but I have found one that Michael J. Fox likens to watching a bus bear down on you, while you stand stock still. It is coming and you know it. You can choose your means of preparing for it, or choose not to prepare at all. You can imagine it will only graze you or you can imagine it will lay you flat. In the mean time, it marches toward you at a pace and with weapons you can't necessarily predict. The certainty is only that it's coming.
But in the face of it you have a decision to make. Will you be a question, an example of the difficulty it provides, or will you be an answer. I have spent time on both sides now—studying the downstream effects of my own crisis, and looking for ways out. I have decided the likelihood of a cure or an escape for my own particular challenge is remote, and that doesn't set me apart from most humans with challenges. Many of them are dealing with things that simply can't be undone—they have happened, and they cannot be changed.
Dealing with these events can seem a passive pursuit. "It's over. It happened. Deal with it." Just react and get it behind you. My view has changed, after yet another sobering television show on Frontline—Dave Iverson's "My Father, My Brother and Me." I know now that I won't question my challenge. I will become an answer. Who I am, what I do, where I go—my life will be an answer.

Seizing The Fish At The Zoo

Now, I'm sure you know that fish are normally found in an aquarium. So, why am I going to the zoo to seize the fish? I ask you, do you remember when the zoo was really a blast? How old were you? If it was too long ago for you to remember, how about your children? How old were they? My guess, somewhere around the age of six or seven was the peak time. After that, they are on sports teams that have interminable seasons and playoffs. Or they get more interested in their friends than in going to the zoo with their (choose one: parents, grandparents, aunts or uncles). Maybe they also get tired of the animals. Gorillas, lions and pandas might be exciting to see in the flesh the first few times, but they are so used to animated movies and cartoons, I think they are disappointed when they (the animals) can't talk. What would you and a gorilla talk about anyway?

• (me to gorilla) Wow, I really like your coat! Or,
  
• (Gorilla to me) where did all your hair go? How do you climb trees with those shoes on?
  
• (Me to gorilla) do you have to handle your excrement all the time?
  

I'm sure the gorilla conversation all goes downhill from there. He'd be offended, and I would be frightened. If a 400-pound gorilla gets mad at you, I guess I'd rather be able to try to talk it over before it comes to blows, of course. As long as he stays in the cage, I guess I'd just walk away and then I'd be trying to talk to a zebra.

• (Me to zebra) My wife won't let me wear stripes. She says they make me look fat.
  

That conversation starter would probably be a non-starter… (Sorry, I couldn't resist it). So, where was I? Oh yeah, going to the zoo. So, our five and six-year old grandchildren have never been to the zoo, and, while they are at the right age to be thrilled by going to the zoo, we are going to the zoo in Jacksonville. "Carpe diem" (seize the fish for all those of you who never took Latin in school).