Subways in Berlin...

"The robbed that smiles, steals something from the thief."

Shakespeare - Othello

Sometimes you get a win when you didn’t even know you were in the game.

She was about five years old holding her mother’s hand when they got on board.

The set-up…
The subway car had been full when I got on ten stops earlier…full of commuters heading home for the day. I had been in Europe for a conference and had a little time to see the city. It was Berlin and I had just finished 10 hours of visiting museums and getting around the city to find them…I was really tired – the kind where you have reached the edge of your brain’s capacity to absorb another piece of information and your 64 year old body is asking, “What were you thinking!?”

I hopped on the subway at Mehringdamm station - well, not exactly ‘hopped’ – for the 18 station trip to my hotel near the Rohrdamn stop. I had taken a seat facing backward across from a young man listening to his iPod, completely oblivious to me or anyone else – his head moved to a beat only he could hear. You have no doubt hear the saying: “Those who danced were thought to be quite insane by those who could not hear the music.” This would describe him exactly…it was nice to see.

As the people thinned out, a bench facing forward opened up across the Isle; I slipped over and settled in with a little more leg room. All four seats (two forward and two backward) were open except for the place I had taken by the window.

The event…
The little girl got on at Wilmersdorfer with her mother who was pushing her to sit facing backward, directly across from me. It was a seat by the door and would be an easy ‘on’ and ‘off.’ I’m a pretty big fellow, and the girl looked a little unsure about sitting across from me, but was obedient in the rush and sat down. She was tiny, as most five year olds are, cute with a knee length jumper and full length, brightly colored stockings.

I looked over to see that she was looking at me. I caught her eye, and she did what most children do when caught glancing at a stranger, she looked quickly down. We rode together for 3 stops to Mierendorflpl with four stops left for me, when I noticed she was carrying a small plastic bag in her right hand. Through the plastic, I saw a 5”x7” (15x18cm) portrait ‘head shot’ of the little girl. As she nervously turned the plastic back and forth, I could see another picture of several children posing for the camera – a class picture from her school. The train was just pulling into the station when I pointed to the picture and then to her, raising my eyebrows and smiling. This is, by the way, my international sign language for short messages with children. It was all I had…I don’t speak German! She nodded, grinned brightly...a warmth that could have lit the afternoon sun with a full ‘tooth showing’ smile – we connected!

The payoff…
As she and her mother got off the train, I wondered with a little anticipation…had the magic between us worked? She trotted off toward the exit holding her mother’s hand, and then it happened…she turned to see if I was watching – we connected again – her smile widened and she waved the hand holding her pictures – A WIN!!

In that moment, all the tiredness of the day slipped away. The unspoken and knowing connection between two human beings had occurred in one of the great languages of the soul…the open smile. It did not require a hard earned vocabulary, hours of repetitive practice, nor finding a place for subtle expression in written or spoken thought – No! The only elements necessary for this to happen were proximity (being near one another) and a willing heart. The scriptures says, “…if first there be a willing mind…” all things are possible.

On that day, in that city, sitting exhausted on that subway car, I was once again reminded of how much we all are alike…young-old, tall-short, black-white-yellow-red…we are connected by the fabric of humanity, and when that connection happens, WE KNOW this is the way God intended for life to be.

That smile from that little girl, was more rewarding in the moment, than all the reading, listening and watching I have done in I my life, to try and understand what any of this means. That little girl, in that moment, reminded me that we can share with each other the most profound of things, in the lightening briefness when two souls touch through the magic of a shared smile.

- ted

Doors and stores...

Resolve to be thyself: and know, that he who finds himself, loses his misery.

- Matthew Arnold

I was sitting in the coffee shop waiting for Bill. We meet early Wednesday mornings to chat about…well, whatever is on the burner for the week. We don’t talk much about the hot button items of the day – you know, the politics, the movies, the sex, the sports…it is mostly just two older fellas who have found some mutual pathways - exploring the resonance…the small personal and spiritual stuff. The sort of things friends do…nothing special…you know what I mean…like a pair of old tennis shoes –quietly comfortable.

We typically meet pretty early, but occasionally get our schedules mixed up. We are usually good about communicating, but this was one of those mornings when we had not checked in the day before, and he was a no show – I’ve missed our meetings a time or two as well.

A wandering mind…
You know how it is when you have a few minutes, waiting to get something started…there really isn’t time to work on anything in particular, or to get into a focused train of thought…you are just waiting. While sitting there, a song from the 1960s slipped out of my memory banks and drifted across my consciousness… “It never rains in Southern California.” The title is ironic because the chorus actually goes:

“…It never rains in California – But girl don't they warn ya – It pours, man it pours…”

Like the lyrics of that iconic Albert Hammond song from a bygone era, it was raining this particular morning and raining hard!

Wants and needs…
The music playing in the coffee shop was Vivaldi – surely different from the 60s rock song in my head. I was looking out the window in front of me, with the unfocused gaze of a camera lens poorly adjusted. Just to the front was a small, open-air walkway running between the coffee place and some shops across the way. A small, flower-decorated pond with a fountain, sat in the middle of the path where shoppers could easily move from store to store lining the walkway. These kinds of little stores are common in the Mediterranean climate Southern California is so famous for, because, in fact rain really doesn’t very often come.

Since it was early, it would be several hours before these stores opened. As I looked through the pouring rain, across the open walkway, I wondered, “If all the doors, of all the stores were open, AND you could take whatever you wanted, what would you take?” How much would you take? When would it be enough?

I thought about that for a few moments, working through my list if items. While this exercise was taking place, a second thought popped into my mind with a bit of a twist.

“If all the doors, of all the stores were open, AND you could take whatever you needed, what would you take?” How much of what you needed would you take? When would it be enough?

Wants vs. Needs…an old dilemma in the story of human nature. What is the measure by, or context through which one makes the decision?

Some things to ponder…
It’s all really relatively, isn’t? For example, if you live in a first world country, have a decent job and gotten used to a particular lifestyle, you might take certain things based on the questions above – the potential for gathering practically limitless.

If you were, as is half the world’s population, living on less than $2.00US per day, with little more than your clothing, some shelter and hard won food for the day, you might have a totally different ‘want to need’ ratio in your life…and you probably would not be reading this.

There is something about ‘…not having…’ with barriers ‘…to getting…’, that makes ‘…wanting to have…’ take center stage in our minds. This sometimes leads us to gather things we may have little use for….keeping them on hand, you now…just in case. It is surprising how much time we spend occupying our minds with the wanting and the getting. Much of this is tied to how we value ourselves, or more importantly how we think others value us. In fact, this is nothing more than background noise in our lives.

It’s all a metaphor
Feeling we want and need things, is really a reflection of a much deeper want and a more thoughtful need. Thinking about these questions led me to a series of thoughts regarding spiritual pathways and spiritual stores, and the things we want and need out of life. Not clothing or jewelry or computer or the latest phone technology, but rather wisdom or faith or understanding or joy or happiness – not just the pursuit of happiness…things for which we have the most primal of desires. The things we get at the literal store satisfy us for the briefest of time. The things we get from the spiritual stores of life are more difficult to attain, but infinitely more satisfying.

Is there a point here?
The conversation in life is not about the big things, the mountains yet to climb, the drive to have things that proclaim we are something or somebody. This is a conversation that feels comfortable like an old pair of tennis shoes. It is about finding an internal resonance, a quiet dialogue between friends. At this time in life, there is a realization that my best friend should be me – the creature that lives inside the body I inhabit, the friend who carries the name Ted. As I have been a little longer in my journey, THIS is what I WANT…more importantly THIS is what I NEED. My wants and my needs becoming the same thing…and isn’t this the way it should be?

- ted

The clock is ticking...

"If you're always battling against getting older, you're always going to

be unhappy, because it will happen anyhow."

Schwartz, M – Tuesday’s with Morrie (Alblom, M)

The clock ticks and another minute expires, slowly, with the unrelenting deliberateness of a glacier grinding its way down a mountainside. The seconds’ fly, but minutes move imperceptibly from one to the next…and the next…and the next…

On this day…exactly the moment of this post (1300Z GMT or 0900 EDT), I will have repeated this cycle 33 million, 6 hundred 38 thousand, 400 times. That’s a lot of minutes.

We are not used to thinking in these increments of time; they seem, well…insignificant. Yet as the “...journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step…” countless minutes pile up providing a framework that permits each of us to become the person we are.

Minutes – in the big picture – seem relatively meaningless. Meaningless may not be correct, but barring unexpected death or terminal illness, we have millions of them to spend.

“The days of our years are threescore years and ten; and if by reason of 

strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labour and sorrow; 

for it is soon cut off, and we fly away…” (Psalms 90:10 – Bible)

We work through them, fight through them, sing through them, dance through them, love through them, sleep through them and do all manner of things to occupy our lives through them.

Birth – death…(taxes?)

While it is easy to lose track of the minutes in our lives, two are particularly meaningful. In the oddest of ways, while significant in the extreme – in the moment, their importance is completely lost on us.

The first minute signals the beginning, as we emerge from the womb with life and its unpredictability lying in front of us. We gasp for the thin atmosphere of air so alien from the amnionic fluid that moved in and out of our lungs in our mother’s womb. We do not remember this event, but family and close friends preserve memories of that promising entrance into life. Mothers cherish the miraculous fruit of their labor – the marvel of childbirth renewing the cycle of life - refreshed yet again.

Once that breath is taken, the clock begins ticking – minute after relentless minute toward the second truly extraordinary and meaningful minute and breath…our last! Everything in between is the lyric and music that brings meaning to our life experience.

A momentary pause...

Each stage of life happens only once. As infants we’re weak and need support; as children structure and education. We are impulsive and spontaneous in youth, serious and thoughtful in middle age and hopefully mature and reflective in old age…each of these seasons bear some sort of fruit – gathered and stored for the next stage.

This idea becomes more important as one edges into old age. What is old age anyway? Surely it comes after middle age, but where is that invisible line?

It has been said 60 years (31 million minutes and change) is the new 40. It is not clear to me what that means either. Over the years, it always seemed strange to hear people I knew resist (as if they could) entering their 30s and 40s as though they were somehow toxic. There must be a marker or measurement somewhere that I missed as the decades have come and gone.

I have got to be honest here, as I rose the morning following my 30th, 40th, 50th and 60th birthdays, I felt pretty much the same as I had the day before. It should also be noted, except for the inability to jump as high, run as fast or hold my breath as long, the passing of this 63rd year as I write, has been the best of my life…as were the previous years when I was living them.

Back to the minutes…

While each of us is somewhat different, the time course of life – barring an unforeseen event – is fixed. Nature, which constructed the unimaginably intricate body in which we live, as if to say, “…this time is enough…” deliberately and thoughtfully deconstructs our lives…easing us toward the unavoidable end of earthly experience. It is the natural order of things, the rhythm of life repeated billions of times, not something to be feared – rather embraced.

That first minute, begins with a blank slate…the last minute, preceded by adventure after adventure, passes as we leave behind all that we have known. In the most profound of ways, we are curiously clueless about both. We share neither excitement of the beginning of our lives, nor sorrow of the departure from it. We, the principle character in the play, are given little insight into either event. We only gain a little understanding by witnessing the birth or death of others. It is even ironic that we celebrate the battle and struggle to begin life and sorrow for the final peace that we all seek.

The final breath occurs as we fight to maintain the life that began so many uncounted minutes before…the last breath – the ‘agonal gasp’ as it is called, signals a close to the journey – a shedding of the physical skin…leaving all behind.

Old age?

If I am approaching old age (as part of the 'new 40s'), I am grateful there is no indication as to when that last minute and breath will occur. Since it is clear that it will happen and there is nothing to be done about it, I can set that aside and get on with everything I possibly can out life...embracing it as it comes. At this time of life, there is better focus and a cutting away of the distractions of earlier years...because this time of life permits paying attention to the things that have more meaning to me.

While “I…have repeated this cycle 33 million, 6 hundred 38 thousand, 400 times,” I know a couple of  things:

     1. If my last minute and breath were to occur as this post is sent, I could not have asked for a better and more quality life experience. Having said that…

     2. I’m looking forward to a few million more!

- ted

Footprints in the sand...

"A man that hath friends must show himself friendly…" 

- Proverbs 18:24 - Bible 

The email
He was in sunglasses on the video, but the ‘look’ and the ‘voice’ were as familiar as my own image in the mirror. He said, maybe this would be a way to communicate a little more frequently…it had been awhile – quite some time since I had seen his face and heard his voice, but in that instant we were NOT a couple of fellows in our 60s, but kids living in the 60s.

It simply appears…
Your first friend just happens…no plan…no strategy…just life. Think about it for a moment – you WILL appreciate your memory.

John and I were the most unlikely of personalities to find resonance. I ‘hid’ from life in sports; he in the arts – ‘we’ in our friendship. In fact, I have NO IDEA how we began…but we did. He was my first real friend – the one with whom animated conversations, ludicrous antics or complete silence fit like a glove. There were no judgments in that experience, no bitterness, no sustained anger…just a huge mental bank account of tolerance. It was so natural, it simply was. We were the fellas who hung together the way those characters in buddy movies do – he even had a motorcycle!

The last couple of years of high school, outside of the band for him, athletics for me, and our respective girl friends, there was little time we did not spend together. It was one of those friendships, in an age filled with all of the bonding chemistry and angst, that arises when trying to fit into a confusing and ever expanding world. While it didn’t appear that way to others, we were outsiders, a couple of guys who didn’t get the world around us doing the best we could – trying to figure it out.

You know exactly what I am talking about.

In youth, one thinks life will always be what it is – you know, the corner grocery store, the local theater, the neighbors next door. Nothing, of course, could be further from the truth. After high school we drifted apart – off to different colleges and different life experiences.

What’s the deal?
Growing up is the ultimate experiment. Since, for each person, it is the first and only time it happens, there is little context for the emerging tapestry of our lives. It was my assumption John and I would simply pick up where we left off – you know, always friends. Friends, yes…pick up where we left off? Four decades later it has simply not happened.

Life is like this. We get busy, distractions pre-occupy our lives and before we know it, like the quietness of an evening sunset, what seemed so crisp and clear, softens around the edges and things slip out of reach – so it was with John. Life happened and the day drifted gently into the shadows of time.

The Bhuddists are right about this…while the flame on the candle appears to provide a consistent light, it is in fact never the same as the candle slowly melts away.

Yet, as time passes in life – when things begin to slow a little and you look around – when you realize in those moments of “…pale hushed stillness before dawn…,” you would give a lot to be that young man once again; you would be a better custodian of friendship; you would take a more proactive position; keeping the ‘…wick trimmed…’ and the ‘…candle bright.’

So what do you say?
It is not clear to me, living in a world of political correctness, how one is to express the meaning of friendships that men develop. We are not so good at expressing our feelings to one another…so we play ball, hunt and fish, attend or watch sports, or talk about meaningful things of the moment. We mask our feelings through the many activities that act as substitutes for expressions of deep appreciation – as if to suggest we don’t need to say the words, to understand the affection and friendship. We almost never tell them we love them. Women seem to be able to do this – we are not so good at it.

You substitute…
There is a wonderful scene in the film Dancing with Wolves demonstrating this very point. It is near the end of the movie when the character John Dunbar (renamed Dances With Wolves) is leaving. One of his chief rivals in the film is the character Wind in His Hair. In the end, they forge a deep bond of respect for one another. Wind in His Hair, cannot bring himself to face Dances With Wolves’ departure. From a ledge at some distance he appears and calls these most memorable, and to me deeply moving words:

“Dances With Wolves. I am Wind In His Hair. Do you see that I am your friend? Can you see that you will always be my friend?”

It is said, “Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Others stay awhile, make footprints on our hearts and we are never, ever the same.” A fair amount of water has passed under the bridge since those early years....John and I haven’t seen much of each other.

Maybe that video thing will work out, but whether it does or not I know this:

“John. I am Ted. Do you see that I am your friend? Can you see that you will always be my friend?”

- ted