Sunday, March 25, 2012

Words can hurt, but...


“…the words I speak unto you, they
are spirit and they are life.”
- John 6:63, Bible


“Sticks and stones
can break my bones,
but words will never hurt me.”

While my mother taught me more about the positive nature of life than any other person I have ever known, the phrase above was the one untruth she placed in my mind from the time I was a child. 

There is little doubt she was simply passing along what she had been taught.  A way to protect her child from what she knew life would bring to his mind.  However, the defense was faulty…the intended ‘barrier to entry’ of hurts and tender feelings, left exposed…an unlocked backdoor into which ideas would pour, only to emerge at the most inopportune times in life. 

In fact, ‘words,’ are truly the only thing that can hurt ‘us.’

What can we actually control?
Things that are not in our power are indifferent to ‘us.’ They are not really morally good or bad…the stoic philosophers would say things like health, wealth, poverty, disease, power and death…all of these things are external to us and act on us – they aren’t moral issues…they are life.  In spite of what we think, we have very few ways to influence these things beyond very minor adjustments.

Our thoughts and feelings, on the other hand…the words we gather, the ideas we cultivate, the beliefs we keep within our minds – ah, now there is a different kettle of fish.  It is here, and only here where we have real influence.

This, of course, is why self-help books are so popular.  You can find the seven habits…the seven principles…the four dimensions…the, well you know, the formula of the day from which, with a little elbow grease and hard work, you can emerge as a meaningful and self-actuated human being!

It isn’t just the bookshelves full of these ‘manuals for life’ that fly into our notebooks…our personal libraries…our CD players…our iPods.  All spiritual and philosophic writings point to peace and tranquility of the world in which we live – our minds.  The Bible, Quran, Bagadavita, Buddhist Dharma, Tao Te Ching…all of these texts extol the importance of internal stillness…the quieter one becomes, the more one hears…

We read stories of those who seem to have found ‘it’…those who seem to have reached a state, or at least gotten close to some sense of transcendent contentment.  Even founding documents of this country suggest we have the God given and the independently declared right to the “…pursuit of happiness?”  Ah, the pursuit of happiness…the carrot before the donkey.

In fact, none of this internal satisfaction occurs without plain hard work.  There are no ‘…road to Damascus…’ experiences without having done a lot of preliminary preparation.  The metaphoric story of the apple falling on Newton’s head would have meant nothing without an enormous amount of mental preparation.

Rubber meets the road…
You could read all of these texts, and indeed they are surely worth doing so. 

On the other hand, you could simply meet and hang around my friends, Paul and Monica…two of the most remarkable people I know.  I’m not sure I would say that individually they are the two most remarkable people I know…although they surely are right up there.  No, as a couple…a team…a partnership…a marriage – this is what makes them most remarkable.

Let me tell you what they know…better said, let me tell you what they understand about the importance of building internal worlds with each other.  Their personal interactive conversations during the day are littered with phrases like, “My darling husband you are so smart.  What a great meal you have prepared.”  “You see how brilliant you are (Paul speaking to Monica), that was just the right solution!”  The number of times “I love you” and “my darling” are repeated during the day are practically uncountable.  The number of gentle touches and loving kisses immeasurable. 

They do not live on another planet…they do not live in some alternate universe…they do not chant unintelligible mantras in saffron robes.  They understand the fragility of life, AND they understand the power of words – both loving and not so loving.  They have made the conscious choice to edify, share, promote, and yes love one another in both word and deed!  They have come to understand that incredible power comes from openness and vulnerability to one another.  They have found the strength and will to live the words that these holy and spiritual writings profess. 

This does not mean they have not had trials.  As with all of us, they surely have, and if you knew them, you would understand those challenges have been significant.  BUT – and Paul would not like me to use the word ‘but’ here, for he is an ‘AND’ person – BUT these two have made choices, hard working choices to promote one another’s life journey…to constantly promote the love they feel for one another, AND the value that each brings to the other.

The lesson…
There is little doubt self examination and the seeking of contentment in life is the most important thing we can do.  My friends Paul and Monica provide a living laboratory of what can be when people commit to promoting the life of another human being.  They express in word, action, habit and character what is possible in the world of human interaction…both internally and externally.

To quote the philosopher Lao Tzu:

"Watch your thoughts; they become words.
Watch your words; they become actions.
Watch your actions; they become habits.
Watch your habits; they become character.
Watch your character; it becomes your destiny."

Accomplish this, and in fact, words will never hurt us. 

- ted

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Coffee and camels..


“To be content with what one has
is the greatest and truest of riches…”
- Cicero, On Duties


Here name was Botha, and her ‘…black as coal eyes…’ were rich, liquid pools of mystery and stories yet untold.  This not the sort of thing one expects to find at six o’clock in the morning in a hotel in Dallas, Texas…and yet there we were!

The day before had been one of those unexpected ‘…classroom of life…’ opportunities to get a measure as to whether I was getting a better handle on life.

I belong to professional society that was having a site visit to Dallas for its national convention.  I had been added to the team a little late in the process, and was looking forward to seeing some of the venues for the upcoming conference in the fall.  In fact, the primary convention site and hotels had been chosen several years before….this visit was to choose between some places for smaller events around the edges of the meeting itself.

The team visited three facilities the evening of my arrival – it was great fun going behind the scenes of the Dallas Hard Rock Café and Mickey Gilley’s famous honky-tonk western saloon and music hall.  Both places had seen their share of the famous, the not so famous, and the ‘…über famous!'  The site visit also provided time for personal interaction with the rest of the site visit team – a good thing.

One never knows…
Getting there had been a bit of an adventure.  Traveling from the West Coast in the U.S. requires some planning, particularly when heading east.  Because of the three hour difference to the east, the airport is packed like sardines for the early morning flights…like the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul - people everywhere! 

Whatever the airlines give you as an appropriate time to arrive at the airport, on those early morning flights heading east out of San Diego – seven days a week – getting there even earlier is a smart and wise thing to do.  Then by eight or nine AM, the airport, relatively speaking, seems like a ghost town.

The flight would take three hours to Dallas, in the Central time zone, which was two hours later.   Knowing I didn’t need to be at the hotel until dinner, I headed out mid-morning – no problem…dinner was 5:30PM. 

“No problem…”, that is, until the flight was cancelled with no warning.  The airline assured me it was not an issue; I would be sent out on the next flight.  That was great, except the chess board had now been changed and the arrival window for dinner gone from a relaxed ‘…get there…clean up a little…feet up for a little while…’ to ‘…the dinner party will either be gathering to depart the hotel, or will already be gone by the time I arrive! ‘  

The lesson?  It didn’t stir up a hornet’s nest of anxiousness accompanying situations like this in my earlier years – a win!

All worked out well…I slid into the lobby of the hotel just as the group was gathering to leave.  The team leader smiled and said, “Head up to your room.  Do whatever you need to do. We can wait a few minutes.”  The evening was great fun and went well…all objectives accomplished.  There would be a quick tour of the Dallas Convention Center in the morning, back to the airport and home.

Oh yeah, breakfast…
I had tucked in early after our evening out, got a great night’s sleep and was ready for the day.  There was a very small hitch in the morning…well there were two very small hitches.  I’m a pretty early riser, and first thing in the morning put on the coffee pot to start my engines.  I had drunk the room coffee the night before after returning from dinner – I know, it’s a gift to be able to drink coffee at night and go straight to sleep.  That would not be a problem because most hotels have early morning coffee…for some reason; this one didn’t have coffee until 6am – no room coffee…no ‘house coffee!’

Six it would be then! 
At 5:50AM, I was waiting at the restaurant hoping someone would take a little compassion on me and let me get seated early…at least to get that coveted cup of coffee.  5:55AM – enter Botha.

“Would you like to sit down sir,” she said with a lilt that gave her African origin away, but where?  I’m not that good.  “Yes I would,” I replied with pleasant deliberateness.  “Well, why don’tcha sit right here in this booth.  I’ll bet you would like a cup of coffee.”  What a mind reader!

Botha was black as coal with matching eyes, and what appeared to be a little less than five feet (1.5 meters) in height.  She looked to be in her mid-sixties, and had the sort of personality that begged the question…you know – how did you come to this country?

The story...
She was Ethiopian and in her younger years had been a journalist under the Emperor Haile Selassie.  In that time, she felt driven to write about the conditions in her country and found herself in jail where she was beaten and molested.  After being let out, she continued to write. 

Fortunately for her, she received warning the government was going to arrest her again.  In the dark of night, she reported leaving Ethiopia on a camel, crossing the Sudan; eventually finding herself in Algiers.  From there it was France, Great Britain and finally here to the United States.  What an adventure!!

I asked her how she liked living here, and she described how grateful she was to live in this country, and to have the life she was living.  Life she was living?  A mid-sixties woman working long hours for small wages and tips?  Grateful for what?  Poverty? Serving people who didn’t even acknowledge her as a person,…whose wealth so exceeding her standard of living that even breakfast in the place she worked would be well beyond her financial bounds.  Are you kidding me?

The reminders are important…
Ah yes, but a “…man’s [woman’s] life is more than the things that he [she] possesses…” Yes indeed.  For Botha had something none of the money in the world could buy…gratitude for her life as it was…for the struggle…for the breath. 

As we chatted in those brief moments, before the rush of the maddening crowd, we touched each other.  I don’t mean we shook hands or patted one another on the shoulder, I mean “…we touched each other…” and it was really good.

She said, “You are my first customer, and God brought you to me for a blessing at the start of my day.”   I replied with a little more energy after that cup of coffee, “You are my first waitress, and there is little doubt God brought you to me for a blessing to start my day.”  She grinned and leaned over closer saying, “Thank you Jesus…we both been blessed.”

Breakfast done…
I left that morning thinking about the scriptures and philosophers I had read…how they extoll the virtue of chasing life, not riches…how they admonish the emptiness of seeking pleasure…how they encourage the importance of finding one’s place in life and performing their duty – not their profession – their duty as a human being. 

I thought how Botha might share life’s meaning with the hoards and hoards of us who believe that a little weight loss, a little extra money, a little more make up, or status might help us get over the hump of life.  She hadn’t read all those writers or tried all those things to find meaning.  She just got up every morning with gratitude and did her job in the community of man.

I hopped on the glass encased elevator, watching her as I headed up to my room on the 22nd floor and I couldn’t help but smile as I heard her voice in that gentle lilt,

“Thank you Jesus…” and blessed we were!


- ted

Children Play...


"Suffer the little children to come unto me…
for of such is the kingdom of God”
- Mark 10:14 Bible

I had been lost in thought as I sat in the gardens when I heard a little girl cry out, “Je vois, je vois, je vois une voiture verte” [I see, I see, I see a green car] This was quickly followed the voice of a gentleman saying, “Non, non, je ne vois pas une voiture verte !”  [No, no I don’t see a green car!]

The little girl, and another said, “Oui, oui, oui.” [Yes, yes, yes] To which the man replied, “non, non, non.” [No, no, no] This back and forth continued a couple more times with both the little girls and the older gentleman laughing and laughing together. 

Finally he said, “Ah, maintenant je vois la voiture verte !,” [Ah, now I see the green car] and the little girls squealed with delight.  One of them then said, “Maintenant tu grand-papa,”[Now you grandfather].  I forgot what I had been thinking about and was mesmerized by this man and his grandchildren. 

It was Paris and the Luxembourg Gardens where I had come to a rest after walking around the city for most of the morning.  Entering the grounds on a long tree lined walkway toward the Luxembourg Palace and reflecting pool I had found myself a resting bench when I heard the children’s voices.  My French is “…pas trés bien…” [not very good], but I understood this.  I found myself quietly playing right along and looking for the things the children and the grandfather pointed out.

Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away..
I was taken instantly to my childhood where my mother had taught me a similar game called, “I spy with my little eye, something that is  _______ (fill in a color or an object).  My mother would pick moderately challenging things for me to find, and I would choose ones I thought she would never get…we both did well – me because of her skill in making me work, but not too hard, and she for her naturally quick eye from which I could keep nothing hidden!  The language was different, the country and continent far, far away…but the lessons?  The life lessons were no different.

Gardens – different, but the same…
Molly and I were on our morning walk around the neighborhood of Allied Gardens where we live in San Diego.  Our standard, nearly four-mile route, takes us through our community park – not quite the halfway point.  On Saturday mornings, it is full of people in varying sized groups. 

What triggered the memory of Luxembourg Gardens was the number of children playing with their parents or grandparents.  There were small groups playing soccer to the sounds of, “Great kick!” or “Wait, wait, kick it this way!”  Teaching…if not completely ‘teachable moments.’

There was a mother reading to her child under a tree, and a small girl reading to her mother on a park bench with from one of those e-books.  A dad tossing a football to his little son…a mum swinging her daughter back and forth on the swings…a group children free-style playing at once on the slide, now the swings and monkey bars – unaware they were under the watchful eye of their parents.  Everywhere we looked the guardians playing with/instructing their children.  The struggle, the passion, the joy, the success, the failure…all of it…all of it right there for the seeing.

Life’s playground
What struck me the most was the commonality and community of man.  In many ways, this wasn’t Paris or Allied Gardens, but the metaphor for life – early or late ‘…in the ground of play.’  

Isn’t that the way it is in all of life?  Don’t we move back and forth in the roles of child and parent…teacher and student.  Isn’t this part of the secret of life for all of us?  At first being given artificial goals – priming the pump, as it were – until we find that ‘thing’ into which we can pour our interests and desires?  The ignited passion driving us even further – as the teachers and mentors we have had become part of the inner school, motivating us to ask more questions…to play the game at a higher and more subtle level.

The surprise…
There was a time when I thought, as I grew older I would look wistfully at scenes like this and remember similar events in my life – but no more.  The mystery, or secret is that it never changes, if one chooses to continue to show up “…Saturday morning in the park…”  There will always be mentors and teachers looking for students to mold and shape and help to grow.  Once one question is answered, there will be many more to occupy one’s attention.

When does a person stop learning?  When does one stop playing the game?  Where is the point where one says, “Well, now I understand…now I get it!”  If one is to remain alive, the answer, of course is…NEVER.

While I am not ancient, as the span of life is concerned, I am surely slipping down the slope of life toward its end – at least as time in service on this planet is concerned.  What is it that I want more than anything else for the time that is remaining?  The eternal and needful driving interest to find that “…voiture verte…”

- ted

Sunday, March 11, 2012

It's hardly ever what you think


“A sudden bold and unexpected question doth many
times surprise a man and lay him open.”
- Francis Bacon

It was 2:30PM Central time and the taxi was heading to O’Hare international airport in Chicago.  The conversation was collegial until he mentioned a couple of influences in his life…his father and the small town in which he had grown up…

This is about the serendipity of life…the unpredictable…the emergent gift from the landscape of experience…so unexpected as to overwhelm one in the moment – so intricately woven, in the broader manuscript, as to cause one to fall on their knees and cry to the Almighty God of the universe, “I am unworthy.”

What, you say??!!

Gotta back this up a little…
It had begun with the loss of my friend, colleague and mentor Vert, an orthopedic surgeon who had influenced his field for decades. His sudden departure at the hands of a single vehicle car crash stunned all of us – family…friends…colleagues.

Over the years, I had become a surrogate member of the family and was asked to perform the eulogy at his memorial service…and so on a November day in 2009 a group of friends and colleagues from all over the world came to bid farewell to their friend.  The house was full…as were our hearts.

A week or so after the memorial, I got a call from a fellow at the North American Spine Society (NASS) who had attended the service. He asked whether I might give a small presentation regarding Vert at the annual convention. 

After speaking I met a physician named Jeff, an Asian American academic orthopedist from UCLA.   We had a few polite words about Vert, and moved on.  There was something about this fellow that caught my attention, but the meeting was busy and the orbits of our daily lives quite different.

A little more of Vert…
Vert had, for many years, co-organized a scientific meeting on low back and pelvic pain.  His colleague was a fellow, richly respected and a well-published academic from the Netherlands.  This meeting occurred every three years at some international location – in 2010 it was Los Angeles.  I was asked to give a brief memorial lecture to the Congress. 

It turned out Jeff was also speaking there, and we had a few moments to chat once again…this time without the demands of either of our busy schedules.  As before, I felt a draw to this man…there was something about his spirit I resonated with.

Then there was Dallas…
This year I was asked to co-chair the 2012 NASS meeting in Dallas in October.  Part of the responsibilities for this job involved a site visit in February.  Jeff, also one of the co-chairs for the meeting, participated…we found ourselves visiting sites and getting to know one another a little better in a relaxed environment.  It was interesting to watch him work with the others on the team.

Subsequent to this I participated in a couple of planning conference calls he led, and noted the deliberate clarity and inclusiveness with which he worked.

Then there was Chicago…
Earlier this week, there was a meeting in Chicago to finalize the program.  This is a complicated scientific meeting with lots of sessions, symposia, special interest groups, podium presentations and posters. 

We started at 8:30AM and to my surprise by 2PM we were finished.  I had expected to be taking work home, but in fact under Jeff’s consensus driven leadership, a surprisingly complicated juggling act was completed – and under the allotted time.

My flight home was at 8:35PM, but I realized that I might be able to get to O’Hare early and stand-by on another flight.  I heard Jeff say he was heading that way and suggested we share the cab.  The drive would be about 35 minutes and I was looking forward to getting to know him a little better; maybe even get a better sense of the resonance I felt with him.

Okay, we’re getting to the good stuff…
Because he was Asian American, I wondered if his demeanor had come from cultural influences.  I’ve traveled a few times in China and the East and find the culture there compelling.  After commenting on my perception of his leadership style, I asked him what he thought had influenced him. He said, of course, his father who had been a university professor, and the community in which he had grown up.

It is surprising where one’s mind goes.  In the flash of a millisecond, I envisioned him nurtured in an Asian community where everyone – friends and relatives – brought a sense of the universe to him.

What he said, however, was: “It was a small town you have probably never heard of – Fairmont, West Virginia.”

The punch line…
For those reading this who won’t grasp the impact of these words...I spent the most formative 14 years or so of my life in the rich culture of a small, coal mining supported, West Virginia town…in Marion county…nestled along the banks of the Monongahela (Mon-on-ga-hê-la) river – Fairmont!

I was practically speechless and said, “You have got to be kidding me.  I grew up there too!!”  The moment of revelation stunned both of us!

Who could conceive we shared a common town, high school, athletic experience and some common friends – me the class of ’65...he the class of ’83.

Let me put this in perspective, if indeed there is any possible way to do so.  There were a series of totally unrelated events that led to the two of us sitting in that taxi on the way to the airport.  There are legion of reasons why the conversation should never have happened…yet here we were!

My parents planted a ‘…curiosity of the casual moment…’ that has provided me with the most remarkable of life experiences.  Without the curiosity, the questions would never have been asked…we would have ridden to the airport and headed home – “…ships passing in the night…” BUT that is NOT what happened! 

I can’t speak for those who do not believe in the active engagement of God in the Universe.  I surely understand bringing spiritual matters into question – God knows I have spent plenty of my life asking and wondering about them…

Yet, the moment of revelation, in the back seat of that taxi this week – so absolutely grand…shockingly surprising…delightfully amazing…richly gratifying – I was reminded how little I truly understand of life.  The most complex things I know pale – and that is not strong enough a word – in comparison to the movement of the universe.

I was reminded, whether I get it or not, God is in charge and while He plays at a totally different level…He is in the game!!  I remembered the scriptue, “…what is man that thou are mindful of him…” and was grateful for His management style and the ride…

- ted

Postscript:

It gets better…
The week ended with a business trip to Florida where several of my former high school classmates now live – a couple of whom I had not seen for more than forty years.  My friend and classmate Scott set up a lunch. 

In their fellowship, I was reminded why I felt the resonance with Jeff.  I was once again bathed in the friendship of these gentle folk who also had been nurtured along the banks of the Monongahela River in that small town of Fairmont, tucked away in those West Virginia Hills…it was a blessing indeed.