Moving - in...

“They always say time changes things, but you 

actually have to change them yourself.” 

- Andy Warhol:

The Philosophy 

of Andy Warhol

For me, there is nothing like the excitement of change. 

For most, it creates anxiety and discomfort…the unknown generating a specter of fear and doubt.  “Stay right where you are,” the voice says.  “This is what you know and understand.  Why rock the boat?”

On the other hand, change, like gravity is one of the great constants of the universe.  Without it there can be no growth.  Think about your shoes.  No, not the ones you are wearing…the shoes you wore as a child and how as your feet grew, they got uncomfortably tight.  Had you not changed to a larger size, the pain would have gone from mild discomfort to crippling and ultimately completely immobilizing agony.  In fact, it is impossible, on life’s journey, not to rock the boat, nor experience the discomfort of change.

Okay, change makes me uncomfortable too, but end results, in my experience, have created a most exciting and meaningful life.

From San Diego to home…

The ‘final drive’ to Tucson went without incident.  We ‘wagon trained’ on Interstate 8 – referred to simply as ‘the 8’ – with Molly and Sarah in the lead car whilst Leah, Hannah and I brought up the rear.  

It’s in the neighborhood of six hours from San Diego to Tucson passing through the most diverse country, from sea level at the departure point, climbing to an elevation of nearly 4,200 feet (1,280m) over the Laguna Mountains and into the Colorado desert.  Along the way, there are sections in the mountains where the ground is covered with large rocks that look as though someone had taken handful after handful of boulders and simply tossed them along the landscape. 

The giant that did this, however, must have been HUGE because these ‘stones’ range in size from very big to enormous.  It is hard to describe how astounding they appear as one drives along the highway.

San Diego County is so wide from the ocean to eastern border that it is more than 60 miles before one enters Imperial County.  Here one descends to the desert floor, where in places, it is at sea level once again, and in the summers can reach temperatures in excess of 110 degrees (43C)…much different than the yearly average temperatures of San Diego in the 70s (20sC) a few dozen miles (km) to its west.  The desert here has a sandy base, but filled with scrub brush that makes it look from car level like a small forest of miniature bushy trees. 

Once through the mountains, once by El Centro – 50 feet (15m) below sea level – before driving through an area of sand dunes I so often associated with the desert growing up as a child.  These dunes are in California, a few miles before the city of Yuma, just across the Arizona border. 

At certain times of the year they are covered with people who bring their dune buggies to race, ride, climb and basically savor the thrill of filling every nook and cranny and crevasse of their bodies with gritty, fine grain sand!  (“Yeah, I don’t get it either," he said parenthetically)

Yuma is next and not quite the halfway point in the drive.  It is, however, a great place to take a break, fill the cars with gas and grab a quick bite of lunch.

After Yuma one more small mountain range is crossed before descending to Dome Valley filled with electricity generating wind mills and the final desert drive passed Gila (pronounced ‘hee-la) Bend. 

As ‘the 8’ gets closer to merging with ‘the 10’ into Tucson, the character of the desert shifts as the famous Saguaro Cactus (pronounced ‘swar-oh’) begin to appear along the landscape of the road.  They have a solitary majesty about them, and are protected by State law from destroying them.

The drivers…

The excitement grew by the mile as we realized we were getting closer to our new home.  From the junction of ‘the 10,’ it is but a short 45-minute drive to North Laughing Coyote Way – yes that is the name of our street! 

We arrived a little after dark, slipped into the neighborhood, parked our cars, did a little unpacking and tucked in with satisfied and excited smiles, having had a good and safe day!  The truck with all our stuff would arrive bright and early on the morrow. 

In the morning, at exactly the appointed time, the van showed up with all of our things and for several hours Molly became the ‘air traffic controller’ pointing here and there for furniture and sealed box distribution.  The garage, relatively empty when the movers appeared, filled with astonishing speed – these guys had apparently done this before! 

Four hours later the job was done, the movers hopped back in the cab of their truck and just that quickly we were left alone with some 9,960 pounds (4,500 kilos) of transported items which over the next few months will find their way into their appropriate places as the Coyotes find things to laugh about!

We now find ourselves in a new home in a new city with new things to explore and new people to meet. 

In truth, we have no idea what lies ahead.  There are, of course, some projects we have brought with us and continue to cultivate, but on balance the “…paper is blank…” The good news is that we do well with this sort of thing.  In many ways we are a little Zen about the circumstance, meaning we will let come to us whatever is presented and deal with it as it appears.  The scripture actually says it a little better: “Take no thought for the morrow, for the evil of the day is sufficient thereof,” meaning work to stay in the challenges and opportunities of the moment, for they will keep you busy enough.  Tomorrow?  Well, that might be a whole other kettle of fish…

Oh yeah, change…

The thing about change and forward movement is that the ‘job’ is actually never done.  Each task accomplished provides the occasion for another circumstance to be explored.  Graduation from high school wasn’t the end, but only provided a ticket for the next life event (e.g. college or a job).  Succeeding in that next task, whatever it might have been, qualified us for the next opportunity…and the next…and the next, and so it goes.  Of course, once qualified, we have to make the decision whether to open the new door that is presented to us – this is the challenge isn’t it?

A wise teacher once shared with me that ‘staying in neutral’ was key in life.  Neutral meaning, not leaning too heavily into something from which you cannot withdraw.  Neutral in this context meant balance…to be able to absorb and move with whatever comes and from whatever direction it may do so.

It may seem to be an oxymoron, but balance and change permit life to expand…I’m pretty interested in that!!

- ted

Moving on...

“The moving finger writes, and having

written moves on.  Nor all thy

piety nor all thy wit, can

cancel half a line of it.”

Omar Khayyam – The Rubaiyat

This is my first time.  No, it is not ‘the’ first time, but it is mine.  

One would think in my advancing years and being somewhat adventurous, there would be few experiences in which I have not actively participated, but this is surely one of them. 

I had the impression this sort of thing was fairly easy to do.  That happens when you watch other people ‘climb the rope.’  It is, however, quite different – the intimacy, the detail, the challenge, the effort – all of it…all of it, WHEN you are actually on the rope yourself!

Moving experiences…

Molly and I have been married for some thirty-five years by now – the vast majority of which in the Midwestern State of Missouri.  After her graduation and before we married, she got a small apartment in Jefferson City where she took a job as an industrial engineer – she is the smart one in the family!

After the marriage, I moved into the apartment…a fairly painless experience consisting of bringing my clothes and a guitar.  Over time, the apartment was not big enough, so she scouted the city and found a home in which, by that time, my sister, her baby daughter and we could all live together.  There we stayed for nearly 25 years.  There wasn’t much to move, and since I was out of town when the date arrived, I simply came home to a different place and life went on.

In the early 2000s, I took a consulting job in Detroit for a year, traveling back and forth to Missouri every other weekend, living in a small apartment furnished by one of those rental companies that, for a moderate price, provided everything one might need to live. 

It soon became clear this job was going to be more permanent than one year, so we made the decision to move our home to Detroit.  We had lived in a 100 year old, quite large, farmhouse filled with more than two decades of stuff and transitioned into a small two-bedroom apartment.  The move was an extraordinary effort of down sizing logistics and project management.  Since I was living in Detroit, and still doing some traveling, my participation in the move was, and let me characterize this in the most personally positive way I can, minimal!  Moving to Detroit?  Really not a problem – for me!

In 2008, I had the opportunity to work with an old friend and colleague in San Diego, California.  We had tried on any number of occasions to find a way to work together, but circumstances simply did not align.  Circumstances changed, and when Vert offered me a job, I said yes!  I was traveling again, but this time participated a little in the move.  A ‘little’ meaning I was there when the packers showed up, when they put things in boxes, and when they loaded the truck and headed to Southern California.

Moving?  I get there are a lot of things that need to be done, but…well, it seemed they just got done – somehow.

The here and now…

Earlier this year, Molly lost her mother.  Her dad had died 2003, so when dear Mary departed the planet from Tucson, Arizona, she had been living alone for nearly 10 years.  After some family discussions, Molly and I decided to take her home.  That, of course, would require another move.

While I have been traveling some this year, Molly let me know this time she would NOT be doing the move by herself…that I would have some responsibility beyond hopping in the car and driving to our new, ready to live in, home.  I had experience, right?  “Sure,” I said, “No problem!”

You know what I have discovered?  Moving a household is a LOT OF WORK!  I am not watching someone climb the rope; I am on the rope!  There are so many things to do, so many details to consider, so many small and large issues, which were simply invisible to me.

The horizon is closer than you think…

So here we are on Saturday morning with the packers coming Monday, the movers Tuesday, Molly out Wednesday and me Thursday – all the logistics planned and executed by my ‘expert mover’ wife. 

My role?  I am an obedient facilitator in the process, which is much more than my previous experience.  My job? Pack this…move that…empty this…get rid of that.  It turns out a lot of stuff has to be prepared before the packers even show up.  What?  It may be a little late in life to be learning this lesson, but I have gained a whole new appreciation for what it takes to move a household.

One can never take the lead if they have not first been a follower.  In my tender advancing years, I suspect I will never be the principal in this sort of thing…there simply is not enough time to adequately learn the process…. AND as much as I would like to end my days in the country of my birth (Canada), this may be the last move.  I can’t say this for certain, but there seems to be a sense this may be the “...Last Picture Show...”

What I can say for certain is this:  One can NEVER know what it takes to do anything unless they have actually done it.  This was another small lesson in life’s journey for me, that the moccasins never walked in can never be fully appreciated.  This has many applications, but one thing is for certain, I have never appreciated the shoes Molly wears more…

- ted

I don't need to know...

"Now we see through a glass darkly..."

1Corinthians 13:12

An ‘open hand’…a necessary ingredient for embracing the possibilities of the unknown, the prize behind “…door number two…,” the willingness to expect the unexpected…yes sir working to keep an open hand is what makes life so interesting.

It had been a long run, I was bone tired with only one thought in my mind – get horizontal as soon as possible!  The micro journey along the pathway through the darkened forest of the future, delayed that event AND once again reminded me just how unexpectedly refreshing ‘trusting the process’ can be. 

Last leg before home…

I had come to Frankfurt to do some strategic planning training with a group of European physical therapists that are part of the McKenzie Institute, an international organization who’s primary mission is to educate therapists worldwide in the teachings of the founder after whom the organization is named.  My teaching partner Uffe, from Denmark, is one of the more genuinely delightful people I know, so it was something to which I looked forward, near the end of what would become my first around the world trip…forward because I have known many of these dedicated and thoughtful people for nearly two decades.

The week prior to the training had been filled by a conference in Dubai, where I spoke to an international conference regarding the importance of exercise in chronic back pain patients.  I don’t know about other speakers, but preparing for these sorts of things is stressful, time and energy consuming.  For me, it can best be described as ‘fearfully exciting!’ 

In the end, the presentation went well in a week filled with daylong scientific sessions, long evening dinners and other social events.  By the time I got on the flight to Frankfurt, it was time to charge the batteries.

Frankfurt and Dubai are similar in the respect they are both financial centers, but the parallel pretty much ends there.  Dubai in the United Arab Emerites: ultra modern, emerging in the past decade or so as one of the more unique and artificial places on earth.  Frankfurt in the middle of Europe: a long and important history where as early as 794 the Emperor/mystic Charlemagne held court.  Another big difference is the weather.  Whilst Dubai was quite warm and humid (94F - 34C), Frankfurt was in the 60s (16C) with off and on rain showers.  They could NOT be more different in appearance, climate or ‘feel.’

The beginning of the end…

The first day of training went well, with a lot of positive energy spent by all.  Monday evening, our wonderfully gracious host George, took us to dinner at a traditional German restaurant.  Getting there, however, was a bit of an adventure! We took a hotel bus to the airport, the train to downtown Frankfurt and ‘shanks pony’ (foot power) a fair distance to the dinner place...George leading; the rest of us following like so many goslings padding along behind their mother goose!

The food was great!  I ordered the ‘Woodcutter’s Steak – a beefsteak smothered in onions and enough potatoes to feed a small army.  German food is often heavy and ‘rib sticking,’ fortifying the eater for the work ahead…his meal was delicious and of little doubt in the German tradition.

By now, my tummy was full and I realized just how tired I really was.  After chatting with my tablemates and realizing I was slipping into moments of incoherent conversation, I looked around to see if I could recruit a group to share a taxi back to the hotel.  What began with two, turned into seven and after negotiating with the waitress, a minivan appeared that could accommodate all of us.  A funny thing about the group, is that we were all the ‘older folk!’  I didn’t realize that until I looked around the taxi and noticed that all of us had, shall I say, more mature looking faces than those we left behind!

When we got to the hotel, Uffe said, “Let’s go to the bar for a few minutes – you can get some water – I have some thoughts I would like to share.” All the way home in the cab, all I could see was the bed, how good it would be to slip into it, and my willingness to give in to that great gift of the gods – SLEEP!!  Uffe’s comment was almost like fingers scratching on a blackboard.  My first thought, “Really?  Are you kidding? You want to do this?”  The rapid succession of thoughts may not be worth writing, but could be best categorized under the general category of, “Man, I am uncertain I have a coherent neuron in my brain!!” 

What I said, however, after a brief calculus was, “Sure, let’s chat for a bit.”

The night got interesting…

By now it was getting close to 10PM (22.00), and the bar was pretty full of businessmen talking, drinking and enjoying the end of their day. We took a standing spot at the very end of the curved bar. 

Uffe is a businessman, visionary and has thoughts come to him almost as freely as a mountain stream whose waters flow by the natural effects of gravity.  Once settled, he began to talk a little about telemedicine and how might be the future for much of the cost problems in healthcare.  As he frequently says, “I am not certain about the details, but that can be worked out later.”

We had been chatting for about 10 minutes, when an ‘early 40s’ looking woman sitting at the end of the flat side of the bar to Uffe’s right said, in the kind of perfectly sweet English that could only be described as CANADIAN, “Excuse me, but I couldn’t help but over hear your conversation.  I work in health care in the Province of Ontario, and am CEO of a company that uses telemedicine extensively.” 

Shantelle, it turned out had been the victim of a cancelled flight home to Toronto and the airline put her up in our hotel.  Her presence led to a lively conversation that both woke me up and got my groggy brain more fully engaged in the discussion.  I am uncertain if it was the content of the conversation or the sheer coincidence of our meeting that shook me awake.

I have NO idea how it works…

Here’s the deal about life, and the reason I’m telling this story:

1.     The day had been long and dinner pretty far from the hotel requiring transport and a fair amount of walking – I could have passed on dinner.

2.     After eating, it took time to organize the number of people that were ready to return to the hotel, and finding a taxi that could hold all of us – I could have gotten a single taxi almost immediately.

3.     Uffe suggested we go to the bar to talk about some thoughts he had – I could have begged off and gone to bed.

4.     Shantelle’s flight might not have been cancelled in which case she would not have been in the bar.

5.     She might not have been hungry, nor had the courage to go by herself for a bite to eat in the bar of a business hotel so late in the evening.

6.     She could have been in any line of work, and in fact did not need to engage a couple of strange men chatting at 10PM at night in a in group of moderately loud, food eating, beer drinking men – and yet there she was.

There are any number of pieces in this chess game that brought all of us together in that moment.  Anywhere along the line the smallest change in circumstance would have meant the meeting would never have happened…

These are the events in life that make the journey such a wonder to me.  Who could arrange these things to happen?  How could one even consider the constellation of apparently unrelated events leading to the meet?  Random chance?  I cannot accept that because the events appeared to have deliberate purpose. 

Getting this to work required perfect timing of the completely unknown!  The taxi to hotel had to be perfectly timed…Uffe had to have the question…I needed to agree…Shantelle needed have a cancelled flight, be in this hotel and be hungry, brave to be in that bar…she needed to be on the last barstool beside which Uffe was standing and have the courage to insert herself into our conversation.  

Say what you will, there is an order…there is a plan…there is an ‘Arranger’ who may take even more pleasure in arranging these things than I do in experiencing them.  I know they are not just for my education, but the lesson of the ‘open hand’ was not lost on me!

It is written: “Ask and ye shall receive, seek and ye shall find, knock and the door shall be opened.”  Isn’t this what the journey of life is all about? Having the choices and being willing to say yes to them?

I may not get it, nor see these things coming, but when they happen – “…bone tired…” or not, I find myself with the wonder of a little child.

How are your hands?

- ted

It takes two...

“One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do
Two can be as bad as one
It's the loneliest number

since the number one”

Harry Nilsson - lyricist

Popularized: Three Dog Night

It was pretty clear she wasn’t having any of it!  It seemed like they were young for this, but all I had to go on was the delicate solo dance he seemed to be performing and the total lack of interest on her part.

Heading west…

I had gotten up early to catch an 8AM flight out of Dubai to Frankfurt.  The scientific meeting had gone well, and I had gotten through my presentation without stubbing my toes too badly.  It’s a different game when you are at the end of your career and giving a paper to a meeting.  The energy of youth gives way to the ‘ditch digging’ duty of preparation to speak.  Not that it isn’t still enjoyable, but by now I know how much work is necessary, taking a little of the unknown off the table and the shine off the apple.

When I got to the airport, in plenty of time I might add, it appears I had been scheduled to fly the previous day…meaning I did not have a ticket.  That’s another thing that happens later in one’s career.  These things are done quite a long time before the meetings, and occasionally changes are made, but they typically are arrival and departure times, NOT date changes.  I missed this one, so when I went to check in, there was no ‘in’ for me to check!  I suspect you are thinking, “Who does not look at these things?”  You would be right to raise the point.  On the other hand, those that know me well, have no problem understanding how something like this could happen.

Fortunately, the folks at Emirates Airlines were accommodating, and for a small change fee, all was made right…or at the very least, I had a ticket in plenty of time to make the flight!

Off to the plane...
In some countries, after going through the main security there are two clearance gates to go through.  At the first check, you are cleared for a holding area, from which you go through one more ticket check before boarding the aircraft.  I’m unclear of the purpose, but it works well and “When in Rome…”

The Asian couple was sitting across from me.  They were young, maybe in their mid-twenties, appeared to be married (wedding rings) but could not have been more opposite in their presentation. 

The girl wore blue jeans, a grey blouse, jet-black shoulder length hair and a disinterested cold stare in her dark chocolate brown eyes that could have chilled a soft drink at a distance of 10 feet (3m) on a warm summer’s day.  Everything about her appearance said, “Leave me alone.” 

The man wore plain blue trousers, black shoes and socks, a cream colored shirt, over which was a light greyish poplin zippered jacket – the zipper open.  His hair was short, framing a face that was almost square.  Dark rimmed glasses magnified an anxious expression just short of face staining tears, and a look of desperation that comes when the man doesn’t realize the relationship is over, that humpty-Dumpty has fallen off the wall. 

He, aware he was in public spoke in hushed tones, stroking her shoulder and reaching for her hand.   It was clear he was straining to hold himself together, trying not to make a scene.  She, on the hand, did not seem to care whether they were in public or not.  Every advance on his part was met with a violent shake of the shoulder of a jerking away of the hand, as she crouched as far away from him as the seat would permit.  It was clear to everyone in the holding lounge watching this drama, this dance was headed toward two solo performances…It was clear, that is, except to the fellow. 

When the flight was called, she got up and stalked away leaving him to gather the bags they would carry on.  She was angry, strong in posture and heady as she moved to the gate.  He had the appearance of a wet puppy dragging along behind all the other dogs.

While I really have no idea what the nature of the problem was, between Dubai and Frankfurt, I saw them several times as I got up and moved around the plane.  She was by the window staring out, he in the middle seat, in the early going still appeared to continue pleading with her.  Eventually, he stopped and sat, dejected watching a movie on the screen in front of him.

On the ground…

In Frankfurt, I saw them at the luggage carousel waiting to pick up their bags.  By now, it was clear he had nothing left in his toolkit as they both stared away from one another giving the impression this was the last place on earth they wanted to be.

I got to thinking a bit about this and the way couples evolve.  I wondered, imagining them as young lovers, how they had come to this…betrayal, infidelity, lack of sensitivity or just a candle that had burned out much too early.  Whatever the precipitating event, this young man, at least in the time frame I saw them, did not have enough juice to ‘make things right.’

Then I looked around the airport at couples.  There were young folk clearly in early stages, unable to keep their hands or eyes off one another…middle aged couples quietly engaging each other in conversation as they waited…older couples standing together, each in their own mental space, as if they had consumed all of the mystery and magic that had once drawn them together…the look of familiarity that may not have bred contempt, but seemingly no longer had a bloom on the rose.

I wondered why it is we don’t’ recognize those transition points in life and relationships…why or how routine overtakes the uniqueness of the people closest to us…how it is we don’t appreciate how fulfilling and rich and complicated and wondrous each of us is.  I do know cultivating relationships takes constant work…attention to detail and care for one another’s needs.  I know it is easier not to nurture them, but also when you do, the rewards continue to come no matter the age or stage of ‘time in service’ that they are – thirty-five years of marriage has taught me that.

Next…

I’m not sure what the story was for these two young folk at the airport in Dubai, where their journey had been…where it might have taken them.  I have no way to know whether this was just a lover’s quarrel, or a terminal event – pun fully intended. 

I hope, however, their hearts soften…I hope they find a place…

- ted