We don't always need to know...

"In the darkness, we hide, fearing the light, and 

yet it is the light that frees our soul..."

- Anonymous

"Hi, I'm Bill. I'm an alcoholic and co-dependent." The group with knowing smiles, replied in unison, “Hi Bill.”

The beginning...

My friend Gail invited me to a weekend retreat at the Redemptorist Renewal Center, on one-hundred twenty-acres  at Picture Rocks on the edge of the Saguaro (Swar-ō) National Park West. The property is filled with hiking trails and ancient petroglyphs of the Hohokam Indians. While the facility is run under the auspices of the Roman Catholic Church, it is open to many groups and individuals seeking daily and/or multi-day retreats.

The program, Gail said, would be led by her friend and Buddhist guru, Jim. Naturally, I thought this was going to be a Buddhist retreat where I would have the opportunity to listen to and learn from people who practice this form of spiritual awareness.  My exposure to Buddism has come from taking classes through Great Courses (https://www.thegreatcourses), reading a book or two, and occasional early morning coffee with Gail.

The day could not have been better. Driving into the foothills of the Tucson Mountains, the air was sunny and crisp, the sky blue and clear as a bell. We arrived early and had a few moments to get oriented. Gail had been to one or two of these annual retreats before. It was all new to me and I was excited.

The meeting room was bright from the daylight streaming through large windows and overhead lighting. There were eight portable, white tables, each with four chairs. Gail and I sat right up front.

Jim, as it turned out was a gregarious outgoing man with an energetic ‘leaning in’ personality. Gail made the introductions. He had a way of welcoming that was enthusiastic and yet not intrusive.

Let's get going...

The program start - 7:30 am. We were given a twenty-six-page booklet titled: Welcome to “There’s a spiritual answer to all your problems,” retreat. Waiting for everyone to show up, I thumbed through the manual.

The first page was an agenda for the day. The opening session, breakfast, first a group session then a small group discussion. This format would be repeated three times in the course of the day. A lunch break separated the morning from the afternoon.  

The pamphlet was full of uplifting and spiritual content, ending with ‘Namaste,’ the Hindu salutation of oneness – “My soul honors your soul.”

Pretty standard fare, I assumed. This was going to be an interesting and fun day.

Wait! What?

You know how cognitive dissonance works. You have an idea that guides what you hear and see. It becomes discordant when you realize what you thought you were hearing turns out to be something entirely different, and you resist the change!

As the early stages of the day began to unfold I realized this was NOT a Buddhist retreat, but rather an annual spiritual retreat for people who were working to overcome addiction in their lives. Jim was a Buddhist, as Gail had told me but because both he and she were Buddhists, I made the mental leap that this is what the retreat would be about. As it turned out, she was not there because of addiction issues, but rather to support Jim. She had just thought this was something I would enjoy.

Jim was leading an addiction retreat!

Once I had recalibrated the purpose of the day, I wondered: What the heck have I gotten into?!

After the opening group session, where we worked through parts of the printed material, we broke into small groups to discuss low self-esteem, validation, and addiction. My anxiety growing by the millisecond. 

As my group entered a small carpeted library with cushioned chairs, my mind was racing. To say I was uncomfortable would be a significant understatement. I was a long way from home with no transportation and this was the last place I wanted to be!

The person on my right began and we would move counter-clockwise. "Hi, I'm Bill. I'm an alcoholic and co-dependant."

"Hi, Bill," the group replied. Bill hadn't had a drink in several years and credited Alcohol Anonymous for his sobriety. He was still in a co-dependent relationship that was unhealthy but was working on it through Co-Dependency Anonymous (CODA). Once he had talked for a few minutes, the person on his right spoke.

“Hi, I’m John. I’m an alcoholic. I’ve been sober for ten years.” “Hi, John,” we all replied.

And so it went from person to person in this small group - men and women. As the torch was passed around the circle, I was touched by their openness, vulnerability, and recognition that without help, they might not be alive. They appeared to find comfort in the battles they had fought, murmuring in agreement with things that resonated with them. While each of the stories was different – most were heart-wrenching – there was a commonality of the struggle.

You're up, man...

 “Hi, I’m Ted,” I said with some noticeable hesitance. “I’m here as a guest. I thought this was going to be a Buddhist retreat.”

The group chuckled as they said, “Hi, Ted.” There was an acceptance I wasn’t expecting and in an instant, I can't explain, I felt welcome.

I shared that I had lived in a spiritual community for three decades where I found solace and stability. A place where I had studied the Judeo-Christian scriptures and, with the guidance of elders, acquired tools to help sort my life. I said I wouldn't be confessing anything concerning my past because it was over and revisiting it carried no profit. The group understood. There was no pressure. Their acceptance…my relief…a nice combination!

Time was up, and we headed back to the large group where we worked through more of the manual. As the day progressed, we broke again into more small groups (different people each time). The first topic was relationships and codependency, the latter group, authentic self and life purpose.

By the second and third small sessions, I felt relaxed, looking forward to hearing and learning from the other participants.

As quickly as it started, it was over…

The day wrapped with a group discussion in the main conference room. The tables were gone, replaced by a large circle of chairs. It was time for a post-mortem of things learned from the day. Each person spoke as we went around the circle. I would never have imagined I could feel at ease in a setting like this, particularly with people I didn't know. I had done a number of group encounters in the past. They were always intrusive and stressful. This was different.

After several folks had spoken, it was my turn. “Hi, I’m Ted.”

“Hi, Ted,” the group responded.

I shared I had been profoundly touched during the retreat. It was awe-inspiring to see these people’s guilelessness, their willingness to expose personal fragility, their gratitude for having found a place where they felt safe and unafraid. I was struck by the shared joy they found in the commonality of their daily battles. I expressed gratitude for the privilege of having shared this unexpected day and more so for being so openly accepted. It was a tender moment for all.

It's always the ending...

The day was unexpectedly enlightening. It was a day where I gained a deeper appreciation for the journey with which we all struggle and the many who quietly work to help others, for no other reason than, ‘just because.’ I was further struck by the depths of despair from which so many of these folk had come.

The scripture says, "…for when I am weak, then am I strong." (2Co. 12:10). That day, I met warriors who got up every morning doing all they could to reach the night, clean and sober – one day at a time.

On the way home, I thought had I been more inquisitive of Gail, I might not have attended. Of course, I would not have known what I had missed...rather what I had not known.

There were apparently other plans afoot!!

“Hi, I’m Ted…”

Angst and the road to Nogales...

Tomorrow, twenty-five students will arrive for their first class in the study of the human body. The classroom holds twenty-four in a three-tiered configuration. That extra student will not be a problem.

Other than the first semester back in the classroom, more than a year ago, I am as anxious as I have been. Being uneasy is an old friend (friend?) and a hallmark of my life's journey. The new...the unknown is always the same.

I will get up in the morning and head to Mexico. Well, not precisely, Mexico. The class is in Nogales, Arizona, on the US-Mexico border. The facility is in a refurbished grocery store in the parking lot of an old shopping center near the Mexico border.

The rub? For the majority of my students, English is their second language. Anatomy and physiology are challenging in their own right. Adding to the complexity of the course, I have ZERO Spanish stored anywhere in the recesses of my mind!

When accepting this course several months ago, it sounded exciting, as uncertainty always has. That was then. At the moment, the early eagerness has been tempered as an insidious dose of apprehension has crept in.

Getting there from here…

Interstate highway nineteen (I-19) is unique. It is entirely within the State of Arizona. It begins at a junction with I-10 in Tucson. It ends somewhere in the neighborhood of 91m (300 ft) north of the Mexican border in Nogales, Arizona. The drive between Tucson and Nogales is 101km (63 mi), making I-19, the sixth shortest primary Interstate in the contiguous 48 states. Another unique feature is that I-19 is the only interstate highway in the United States where road signs display distances in the metric system.

Too much information?...

I-19’s connection with I-10 provides a critical part of the CANMEX corridor that runs north-south via a circuitous series of highways from Mexico to Alberta, Canada. For the sake of completeness…Mexican Border (Nogales, Arizona) > I-19 Tucson > I-10 to Phoenix > Routes 60 and 93 (I- 11) through Arizona to Nevada > I-515 & 15 to Las Vegas > I-15 through Utah, Idaho, Montana > Alberta.

Getting there from here, part Deux…

In spite of some nervousness on my part, this is an excellent opportunity for any number of reasons. It will provide the chance to break complicated ideas and concepts down to make them more understandable. It will, as always, increase my own comprehension. That is the ongoing journey of the teacher.

There will be a chance to learn a little about the lives of these students. It has been my habit to learn the names of my students as quickly as possible. When they arrive in class, I welcome each of them individually. Names are meaningful icons. When one is called by name, there is a small, almost indiscernible 'sense of belonging.'

During the semester, I will learn a little about each of them. In turn, the students will learn a few things about me. There will be doors yet unopened to our collective minds. An opportunity, not just for academic understanding, but for community building.

This will also be a little more challenging because the course is a hybrid. It means there is one face to face lecture per week with the rest online, leading to more responsibility on the part of the students.

While I prefer more face to face class time, online courses are the direction higher education is going. Nationally, fully online courses have been taught by sixty-four-percent of full-time faculty, and sixty-five-percent of students have taken them. I am on the tail-end of the traditional classroom era. Or from the glass-half-full perspective, on the front end of fully engaged distance education.

As this experience unfolds, it will continue to add to the process of lifetime learning. Teaching, of course, is learning, and not a subtle phenomenon. Every time I engage the material, I have a deeper understanding, wider peripheral vision, and am able to teach it more clearly. Yes, indeed, it is a wonderfully edifying cycle (in opposition to a vicious cycle).

Getting there from here, part Trois…

There is another totally unrelated reason I am looking forward to this experience – road time! The drive to Nogales is an hour and a half from my home. This means I have three-hours alone in the car on each of my teaching days. This further means I’ll have the opportunity to listen to books, or courses, or podcasts or the music I love.

In my early career, I worked thirty-five miles from my home. Over that decade, I devoured untold numbers of books and courses. While driving around Tucson I get short listening segments. This will be the first time in years, I have had an extended mobile classroom.

And so the dance begins once again. Anxious, yes. Excited, yes - the hallmark of my life. 

Tomorrow morning I will arrive at a grocery store in a parking lot in Nogales, Arizona. I will get out of my car, walk to the door and open it…

Who knows?

- ted

Just flying around...

“What if I fall? Oh, but my darling,

what if you fly?”

- Erin Hanson, Poet

He was a little boy…so short that the top of his head was just even with the extended handle of the roller bag. His father was crouched in front of him so he could look him in the eye. The youngster was looking attentively eye-to-eye with his father.  This wasn't a 'correcting the child' situation but instead had the appearance of a conference. The man smiled, they hugged, and he stood up. The boy looked up, smiled back, and they were off.

It's been a while since I've flown. In some ways, it was intimately familiar and, at the same time, strangely alien. After nearly three and a half decades of 'long flying,’ it was odd to sit at an airport gate waiting for a flight. There was the familiar gate odor. If you have done much flying, you will recognize this. Smell is a potent memory stimulator. Unconsciously, my heart rate slightly elevated in anticipation of the impending departure. There were slight traces of jet fuel in the air adding to the excitement. There are few things I like better than flying!

Molly and I were heading to Baltimore to spend New Year’s with our niece and her family. When we head East in the Winter, the kids usually have had colds. On return, after incubating their virus for a few days, I get sick! This year I began a serious regimen of sleep, hydration, immune-strengthening vitamin C, and other stuff. Teaching about the immune system, I know other than the ‘C’ there is little you can do. And yet, like a lot of other people, I have taken a bunch of unsubstantiated, purported immune boosters…you know, just in case.

We arrived at the gate early and got comfortable – well, as much as can be expected in chairs that had housed thousands of multi-shaped bottoms during their tenure. The small counter where attendants awaited last-minute questions or requests for upgrades added to the familiarity.

Once settled in, I began a ritual that has been honed over the years of departure gate experience – people watching. I don't have an exceptional imagination, but find my mind wandering from person to person, wondering what back story brought them to this point of departure.

It is a little more difficult to gin up my fancy these days because most folks are head down with eyes glued to glowing screened electronic devices – expressionless automatons texting a friend or loved one, searching for meaning, or perhaps hoping to see something new. What did we do before when we didn’t have the constant companionship, socially isolating, electronic gadgetry? Oh yeah, we talked to one another!

There was a tired and dejected-looking young man wearing an Ohio State University tee-shirt and staring at the floor. His team was projected to win the national championship but had lost the day before in a semi-final game to Clemson (really?). He looked a little shell shocked like someone had stolen his wallet, car, and girlfriend all at once. Dejected would be an understatement. There would be no joy in Mudville (Lawrence Thayer's: Casey at the Bat), er…Columbus, Ohio. Oh, well. The sun would come up tomorrow and in spite of his apparent depression, he would recover.

Beside the boy sat a young girl, oblivious to his disappointment, wearing a William and Mary sweatshirt and staring into a screen-lit void of zero’s and one’s. At first, it appeared they were together, but when they boarded, they didn’t even look at one another. Wait – maybe they were together.

From the monotony of staring faces, I turned to the concourse. That’s where I saw the crouched man and little boy chatting with one another. Human interaction! Maybe they were planning a surprise for mom, or perhaps negotiating what they would eat. Possibly, they were discussing the boy's future as a national championship quarterback on The Ohio State University football team. Hope springs eternal.

The call came, and we boarded the flight. It would take four and a half hours from Phoenix to Baltimore. In the context of my lifetime of flying, a reasonably short hop.

I wondered who I might meet, what stories I might hear. Settling in, I said hi to the fellow sitting at the window, an empty seat away from me. I ran through my, 'will we have a conversation' list of questions*. He was an academic from New Hampshire, who didn't seem very interested in chatting. He said he was holding the middle seat for his wife – next!

When she arrived and plunked down between her husband and me, I began the list again. We chatted briefly, but it clearly wasn’t going anywhere as she glanced longingly at her computer. Across the aisle, Molly was equally unsuccessful with her seatmates and drifted into the book she was reading.

I connected my headphones and slipped into my computer silo and went to work. There would be another day and another flight.

We arrived and had a great visit with the family. The boys had grown since the last time we were in Baltimore. A family get-together on Friday brought my other niece, her 'with child' partner, and their daughter. My sister appeared to brighten the pizza, story-sharing event. The evening was a success.

Saturday morning, it was back to the airport for the flight home. Because of prevailing headwinds, flying West generally takes a little longer. This time, my seatmate was occupied on his phone when I took my place. Waiting to pounce with my gentle series of getting to know you questions, I waited for him to get off his phone. When he pushed the ‘end call’ button, he abruptly turned his head to the window and went to sleep, gone before we finished taxiing to the runway. My expectation had turned into a 'nothing burger' before I even had a chance to say hello.

The flight home was uneventful, and as in the heading East flight, I got a lot of work done. No stories, no vicarious adventures – just my bottom in the seat. Hmm. Zero for two. Unusual for me. Maybe I'm losing 'the touch' or perhaps the times are changing…

The good news? All was well with the family...hugs, and kisses all around. It was a few short days and while we loved being there we were glad to be home.

The better news? The kids were not sick! 

I've got my fingers crossed...

- ted

* The partial list: “Are you going home or you out for some reason?” “What do you do for a living?” “What got you interested in that line of work?”