Every Day A Great Adventure

The well renowned Dog Whisperer, Cesar Millan, mentioned in one of his programs that a dog’s dream life would not be like yours or mine.  They would be indifferent to opulent surroundings or fancy cars or communities.  They wish for every day to be an adventure. Yes, every day an adventure.  I’ve mentioned it before, but it bears repeating. 

   My wife broached the topic of death while we were driving to the gym for our morning workout, in particular her own. 

   “I wonder how I will die?” she muttered.  I was just drinking in the flawless autumn sky, so was caught by surprise.  After being reassured her health was good and her mood buoyant, we began to toy with the topic and then conditions of how that would someday play out. Of interest was what if we knew the exact day, but not the time? Oh, and you could know the place, but not the means.  After a short venture into the subject I had to add; the prediction would be certain.    That needed to be added for the sake of an obvious flaw by which in just avoiding the place, the dire prediction of you dying wouldn’t happen.  So we said the end would occur at a particular city park.

We each took different track on the idea.  She was practicing her usual gift of Capricornian stubbornness by believing she could avoid the place and outfox the rest of the prediction, (she so detest limitations).

  “If you were in another town how could you possibly die in Piedmont Park?”

   I, on the other hand, embraced my demise within the context of the rules of the GAME we were playing. So I immediately began constructing a perfect morning; a great breakfast followed by calls to my loved ones, then I’d write notes and place them by the things I wanted certain family members to have when I was gone, then finally take a leisurely walk towards my appointed end.  She was mentally googling flight times of airlines, trains, buses and caravans out of the city.

The topic of how continued to loom, it was at that point the idea of what we would do on our final day was hijacked by the horror of so many ways (painless and PAINFUL) that one could meet their end.  Of note, we agreed that being in an airliner plunging to the earth from 12,000 feet up would be the most terrifying, (according to the math it would take a minute to hit the ground.) even if we both agreed besides the fall, it would be pretty painless at the moment of impact.

   After some time of picturing situations where it would be more accommodating (we agreed in our sleep the best), the topic lost its edge and we refocused on the other mundane things we would do after the workout.  But for a few moments we were in the adventure of our ending….and I can get the idea that if we’re interested….then the process of our interest is our adventure.  It’s not ABOUT anything, it’s how we think and feel on the particular situation that makes for the adventure…

and here we thought dogs were limited.  They’ve shaved a life of excitement down to the necessary… “Oh look, the human is here! Now the fun starts!”

Change of Situation

I received a letter from a distant friend, where in sharing their situation with me, I saw myself; how I had been, not too long ago.

Yet now I sensed the subtle change, from the way I had grown accustomed to judging myself by my current conditions. 

  The words wove of a fellowship, born from past hurts.  The gravity for them brought others with similar complaint to the center; those with current constraints and difficulties in adapting to the unwanted.  I was told they gained comfort in having another listen and encourage them; those familiar with like kind suffering.

   I nodded my head as I read, acknowledging the companionship in the feeling of desperation; the acrid inner aching for anyone to understand. 

Anyone, just so that I'd not feel neglected, abandoned; the oppressive feeling of being alone.

   I've grown to understand more about the conditions with which we shape

our lives; claiming still ~ I know nothing; I became aware of this driving desire to connect with others.  That most commonly we resort to any theme available.

Is it any wonder how in misery we focus and pick on each other’s wounds?  I've been hurt, captive to the notion that constant attention to the pain would somehow suckle the poison out.  Doing such, I'd magically become healed; made whole again.

   Years ago I read that we humans are habit forming creatures, since we did not possess the wealth of instincts our animal brothers had. As habits become addictions, it’s just a matter of form. Change calls to surface observation on those habits, our situations that support them ~our associations and routines that create more. 

Discomfort calls us to adjust, but most oft ~ release. 

   The quest of improvement can be mostly comprised of cleansing, of canceling an effect; I’ve read where in ancient Aramaic that means forgiveness.  It's an uncomfortable experience, for we find it difficult to explain the vista from which a new horizon is viewed.  Sorrow, loss, reluctance and lament vie for attention to influence our choices.  Keep safe; keep dear; keep close; that is not the same as cherished character, the ultimate freedom to allow ‘what is’ and not have it be a measurement of the quality of ‘us’.  

How can we hope to feel better when our efforts are focused and burdened with examining where we've been?  Rather than on where we are; the actual threshold to what we shall become.

Thinking

I was thinking about what I'd comment on this beautiful fall day.  I happened on this little piece tucked away in my DO NOT DESTROY file on my computer, (sorry I can't credit the author.)  But it was amusing and I thought today was a great day for something amusing.  So here goes ~

Hi, my name is Bob, and I am a recovering thinker...

It started out innocently enough: I began thinking at parties
now and then to loosen up. Inevitably though, one thought
led to another and soon I was more than just a social
thinker. I began to think alone, "...to relax..." I told
myself, but I knew it wasn't true. Thinking became more and
more important, and finally I was thinking all the time. I
even thought on the job. I knew thinking and employment
didn't mix, but I couldn't stop.
I began avoiding friends at lunchtime so I could read Thoreau
and Kafka.
I returned to the office dizzied and confused, asking, "What
exactly are we doing here?"
Things weren't great at home either. One evening I turned
off the TV and asked my wife about the meaning of life--she
spent the night at her mother's.
I soon had a reputation as a heavy thinker. One day the boss
called me in and said, "Bob, I like you, and it hurts me to
say this, but your thinking is a real problem. If you don't
stop thinking on the job, I'll have to let you go." This gave
me a lot to think about. I went home early after my
conversation with the boss. "Honey," I confessed,
"I've been thinking..."
"I know you've been thinking," she said, "and I want a
divorce."
"But Honey, surely it's not that serious."
"It is serious," she said, lower lip quivering. "You think
as much as college professors, and college professors don't
make any money, so if you keep on thinking we won't
have any money!"
"That's faulty syllogism," I said impatiently, and she began
to cry.
I'd had enough. "I'm going to the library," I snarled and
stomped out the door. I headed to the library in the mood
for Nietzsche, roared into the parking lot, and ran up to the
big glass doors...they didn't open. The library was closed.
To this day I believe the Higher Power was looking out for me
that night. As I sank to the ground clawing at the unfeeling
glass, whimpering for Zarathustra, a poster caught my eye.
The words "Friend, is heavy thinking ruining your life?"
stood out in large letters. You may recognize the line: it
comes from the standard issue "Thinkers Anonymous" poster.
Today, I am a recovering thinker. I never miss a TA meeting.
At each meeting we watch a non-educational video-- last week
it was "Porky's." Then we share experiences about how we
avoided thinking since the last meeting. I still have
my job and things are a lot better at home. Life just got
easier, somehow, once I stopped thinking. Soon, I'll
be able to vote Republican again.
It's not that some people have willpower and some don't.
It's that some people are ready to change and others are not.