Random | The Direction of Intention

Tickle Dr. Freud

Posted on July 19, 2012 by davidrobinsoncreative

497. Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

The blue ribbon for word slippage goes to Lora. Doctor Freud would be most proud of her today. Not long ago Lora was telling Megan-the-brilliant that I am sometimes useful as her repository of knowledge. Though, instead of using the word repository she inadvertently substituted the word “suppository.” Doctor Freud spit out his pipe with the force of his delight. I am now and will be forever known as the suppository of knowledge. The phrase stuck. It’s what I get for tossing around expressions like “crap thinking” these many years. Megan’s brilliant ice-hot blue eyes were on fire with the torture possibilities. I could see her imagining speaking at my funeral, a eulogy that she’d waited years to share, “He was many things but above all….” She will never introduce me at a conference if I can help it.

And then, this very afternoon my dear Robert, ally in all adventures, friend for life, keeper of secrets, he-who-can-play-the-bagpipes-with-no-bagpipe told me that he’s always seen me as a horse of knowledge – but was never quite sure from which end of the horse I was speaking. I told him I was a knowledge suppository and he said, “Everyone knows that!” What I thought was the emergence of a weekly theme was suddenly much more comprehensive!

Like everyone I, too, have searched long and hard for my true purpose. I had imagined something more lofty or profound, something Gandhi-like or maybe Picasso-esque. Apparently I have been looking in the wrong… direction. Now that I have finally discovered what no person should ever know – namely, their true purpose (as Mr. Spock would say, “Having is not so great a thing as wanting.”), I will dedicate myself to honing my craft, aligning my message, polishing my skills – maybe a new website is in order. Please do not imagine the logo possibilities. I intend to have more fun at cocktail parties; now that I know definitively what I do, I at last have an answer to that irritating introductory query, “So, what do you do?” You’ll forgive me if I am evasive by replying, “Oh! Are you certain you want to know? My work can be alarmingly cathartic.”

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Stop The Bus

Posted on July 12, 2012 by davidrobinsoncreative

490. Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

The dog came from nowhere. It bolted out into the street and the bus needed to brake hard not to hit it. At first, the bus driver thought it was my dog and gave me a sour look. Through sign language she asked, “Yours?” and I signed, “No.” She made a sign that at first I didn’t understand – her hands went to her throat and it looked like she was strangling herself. She read my puzzled face and mouthed slowly, “Check. The. Tag.”

By now the dog was 100 feet away. It was trotting down the street looking at the odd gestures the humans were making. I could see it was waiting for the chase. I took one step toward the dog and it ran. I stopped and it stopped. The bus driver watched and waited. I took another step toward the dog and it sprinted farther up the street.

The bus driver looked at me in disdain, drove the bus to the next block, and pulled over. I do not know what she said to her busload of passengers – or if she told them why she was getting off the bus. She put on her emergency flashers, turned off the engine, and jumped out. Now the dog was between us. We both assumed goalie position while the dog, ecstatic at its good fortune, turned a complete circle, feigned a move toward the street, making both me and the driver jump, and then sprinted up a driveway and disappeared through a fence.

The bus driver called to me, “Did you see the tag?” She was serious. The dog was never closer than 100 feet to me. I loved her question, the absurdity born from concern, so I replied, “My eyes aren’t that good.” She wrinkled her brow, caught my meaning and tossed her hands in the air, a gesture of disgust and surrender. She turned, stomped back onto the bus and drove away.

I wondered what her story would be as she recounted the experience later in the bus barn. Was it a tale of the inept near blind pedestrian dog chaser? Or perhaps she recounted the drama of almost hitting a dog and attempting a rescue? My story was hopeful. A bus driver with a bus full of commuters stopped her route for a few moments to corral a wayward dog. For a moment she took responsibility for the safety of the pooch. She was gruff, lovely, and absurdly hopeful. As far as I could tell, her passengers sat politely and watched the drama unfold. Of course, I imagine the dog later in the day at the dog bar buying a round of drinks, making his pals howl with the story of stopping a bus and making two humans dance.

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Help Me. Please

Posted on July 9, 2012 by davidrobinsoncreative

487. Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

It is the day after the 4th of July in the United States of America and a morning explosion roused my inner sociologist. He is not one for early rising so complained a bit when I told him this morning presented a superb opportunity to study human post-party behavior. “With a walk on the beach?!” he protested. “Where do you think all the human parties were last night?’ I replied. He harrumphed, adjusted his sweater, and reminded me that he wished I were taller so he wouldn’t have to stoop so much when doing field research. “I would wish for a taller host body,” he moaned.

We were rewarded almost immediately upon arriving at the beach. “By the piles of trash it looks like an army camped here!” he observed, reaching for his notebook. The public trashcans were jammed. Additionally, sacks and bags and empty six packs were stacked 3 feet high around every can forming a kind of garbage ring art installation. The birds were frenzied trying to tear open the garbage bags. A particularly loopy gull missed his landing and tumbled down a garbage cliff causing a trash avalanche. “Good heavens!” my inner sociologist exclaimed. “One does not see that everyday.”

The sea wall was literally lined with Roman candle remains, beer bottles tilted to just so to better launch rockets (for the red glare), and remnants of bombs bursting in air. There were hundred of those little red sticks, evidence of a sparkler orgy. I caught my inner sociologist just in time – he was moving to dig in the trash. “How can I truly understand human behavior if I leave so much evidence unexamined!” he complained. I pointed out that the only evidence he needed to note was the presence of the piles, “Look how much stuff people packed in and how un-interested they were at packing it out.” He slowly scanned to area and said, “Yes, too true,” narrowing his eyes, he lifted a single brow, and scribbled another note.

It was then that we spotted the real treasure, proof that there is still hope for humanity. Just across the street standing boldly in the middle of a grass strip was a bright red upright Hoover vacuum. “My, what’s this?” I had to remind him to look both ways before dashing crossing the street. “Unbelievable!” he cried, dropping his pencil. “Have you ever seen anything so remarkable?” It was a rhetorical question but I said, “No,” and stood back to admire the gesture. Taped to the front of the Hoover was a small crayon sign that said, “Help me. Please.”

“Isn’t a little humor refreshing?” he asked, looking for his lost pencil. “It gives me hope,” I replied. “Well,” he sighed, “People surprise me at every turn.”

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Truly Powerful People (478)

Posted on June 30, 2012 by davidrobinsoncreative

478.
Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

This is the day before I travel. I’ll be on the road for ten days and I’m excited to go; there is a bit of gypsy blood in my soul and it has been too long since my last adventure. I like these packing days because the usual patterns of my life suspend. I prepare; the abstractions fall away, my actions become concrete, there is a specific tangible achievement. That is a rare thing in my life. I generally live in the land of the ambiguous; transformational work is not for the engineer-minded. It is a life built upon discovery and clearing debris. No amount of math will solve for the equations. So, packing a bag for travel is nice. I know when I’m done.

Preparing to go is a combination of cleaning and reviewing. The work of planning the workshop is done. The notes and drawings that litter my desk and circle my chair are now “inactive” – so I can sort, file and throw. I’m an out-of-sight-out-of-mind guy so if I file things prematurely they disappear from my mind forever – thus the nest that rings my chair. The piles are necessary. They are living-thought-articles and although I recognize that it might look like a mess to some, it is never static clutter to me. It is a thing of beauty. It is a moving map of thought. My desk and the surrounding space are like a Jackson Pollock painting: a record of the motion of my work, a paper symphony of the inner workings of my heart and mind. Lovely chaos. Swirling patterns of possibility.

On packing day everything simplifies…. I will take it or I won’t. Do I need it or not. As I sort my piles and put them away I am aware that I am also cleaning the canvas. Not only am I preparing for travel I am preparing for the next “painting.” Making space for the next project. Inviting the next wild idea to come out of the cave and romp with me. Packing day is a perfect ritual of closure, necessary for opening to the new.

Filed under: Creativity, Random, Truly Powerful People | Tagged: ritual | 1 Comment »

Truly Powerful People (468)

Posted on June 20, 2012 by davidrobinsoncreative

468.
Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

Sometimes I have the ultimate theatre mentality. Once, in college, I was running a spotlight for a musical; the tube from the fan to the bulb housing fell apart in the middle of the show and between cues, to keep the light working, I was able to build a replacement tube with a paper cup and duct tape. Use what you have. It need not be permanent. It only has to work for a while. The show must go on but no one need know how poorly it is constructed. Sometimes that’s the magic.

This used to drive John crazy. He is a real builder, a master woodworker. John built some stage sets for me that will be here long after they drop the bomb; the only thing left on earth will be the sets that John built. I’d say, “John, it only has to look real, no one will know.” He’d say, ‘I’ll know.” Now, that is a true artist! Once I was hired to provide a set for a commercial featuring the Mutant Ninja Turtles. There was a desert scene: I hauled in sand and dumped it on the floor. I pulled some scrub from the canyon by my house and stuck it in the sand. The producer was thrilled. The real non-construction was for a scene in a cave. Since it was a film my cave only needed to hold together for a single day. Old flats, cardboard, the sand from the desert set mixed with some good goop and lots of runny paint. I stuck it all together with a staple gun and duct tape, stood it up and prayed the turtles didn’t hit the walls. I told John about my cave and he said, “I don’t know how you live with yourself.”

It’s been a long time since I’ve designed or built a set. But, my “use what you find” mentality still comes in handy. Today I needed to ship a painting and it was too large to get into my car and too awkward to carry. The shipping place was only five blocks away so I scoured the building for a hand truck. No luck. I hit pay dirt in the basement when I spied an old wheelchair parked next to the garbage. I tied the painting on to the wheelchair with an old rope and like Nurse Ratchet gone rogue I wheeled my patient through the city to the shipping place. I think I added local color to the neighborhood. Some nice Dutch folks took my picture. Some people along the way gasped and parted as if I was the Loathly Damsel. Their horror might have been commentary on my packing job. The woman at the shipping place called my packing “Frankenboxing” though she gleefully applauded my method of transportation. Both were high compliments. Being from the theatre, I knew that, in such a moment of appreciation from a stranger, it was appropriate to take a bow.

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Truly Powerful People (448)

Posted on May 31, 2012 by davidrobinsoncreative

448.
Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

My inner sociologist is doing a study of recent perplexing experiences. He’s noticed a disturbing trend lately and thought it pertinent to look deeper into the superficial data. Recently, after my infamous bike explosion, I took my bike in for a repair. The good folks at the shop lost my bike. They lost it for weeks. They wouldn’t confess that they lost my bike but they did acknowledge that they didn’t know where it was – a very fine distinction. It was not lost but “location unknown” for a very long time. Finally, when all hope was lost, they found it and fixed it in less than 20 minutes. They told me it was there all the time.

Once is not a trend but my inner sociologist roused himself from a nap when I took my computer into the store for a repair – and the good folks at the computer shop lost my computer. They wouldn’t say the word “lost” though they did acknowledge that they didn’t know where it was. For weeks, just like my bike, it was not lost but “location unknown.” Haven given up hope of ever finding it we were negotiating a replacement when suddenly my computer resurfaced. And, it was fixed. I was left wondering if my worldly possessions actually work for the CIA. In my mind there was no other possible explanation. My sociologist told me to stop being extravagant.

Two mysterious disappearances do not a trend make. However a third incident brought my inner sociologist to his feet (he’s taller than I am so he stooped). He rubbed his eyes and put on his glasses. Now he meant business! I’d submitted to my web developer changes for my website store. Usually changes are made in 24-hours so after 48 hours I called. They couldn’t find my submission. It wasn’t lost but it was certainly “location unknown!” They could see in the ethers of the internet that I’d made the request but all contents were absent. (“See, CIA!”I cried but the tall guy with the glasses only rolled his eyes). I resubmitted my changes and the 2nd request went missing, too. 10 days and 5 phone calls later, when all hope was lost, my changes suddenly appeared.

Perplexed and unable to make sense of the data – yet unwilling to concede to my CIA suspicions – my inner sociologist sat me down for a consult. He made some very sensible recommendations. He said (and I quote), “The next time you are feeling utterly lost remember that you are not lost but merely “location unknown.” Since you are not really lost, looking for a direction will be futile. As soon as you give up hope of finding yourself you will reappear as if by magic and all the changes you desire will have been made.” Satisfied with his conclusion he patted me on the back, took off his glasses, and returned to the couch for a nap.

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Truly Powerful People (435)

Posted on May 18, 2012 by davidrobinsoncreative

435.
Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.</e

Last night Horatio and attended fundraising pitch for an independent movie. Horatio is a filmmaker and was invited to attend the pitch so I tagged along. I like stepping into unknown cultures. Both Horatio and I were underdressed in a room of suits and slacks. His shorts and flip-flops accompanied by my jeans and painter’s clogs made us curiosities at the cheese tray. We were not careful with our wine – spilling held no danger to our clothes – and unlike the real investors we exhausted our quota of laughter in the first 3 minutes; we were forced to borrow laughter from the others unused laughter bank. I think we left it fairly empty. We had fun.

The screenwriter/director of the film told us of his background and qualifications. We saw clips from his past projects, actors read portions of the screenplay and then the executive producer made the pitch and gave us some idea of the return on our investment if we bought in and if the film made money. Horatio and I nodded our heads as if we had the $50,000.00 to buy in and were seriously considering it. “Hmmm,” I said. “Yessss,” Horatio wrinkled his brow and nodded; a mixed message. I was tempted to roll my program like a telescope and look through it but refrained. This was a serious artist trying to finance his next project and telescope antics seemed disruptive. Had he been a real estate developer I would not have hesitated. Peering through my program/telescope I would have said, “Those numbers seem awfully small!”

Horatio is a tall drink of water and I am not. I teased that we were like George and Lenny and he said, “If I start picking up mice slap me.” If I slapped high I might catch his shoulder. He held a plate of cheese so I scanned the floor just to be sure. Mice can climb and I was feeling more and more like I was in the movie and not the pitch for one. Anything is possible.

We knew it was time to go when the nice young man, the intern, sauntered over to learn who we were. Horatio had credentials and I opted for mysterious. I can be pleasant and obscure, saying nothing with too many words, though I liked the intern and asked what he dreamed of doing. He said, “When I graduate I am going to Japan to spend two months in a Buddhist temple, then I’m going to spend 3 months in India before I go to Rio.” He told me that, at 18 years of age, he was aware that he saw the world through Western eyes. He wanted to shake things up a bit. “Why wait for graduation?” I asked. He didn’t understand but neither did I at 18. I was tempted to give him my telescope but thought better of it – he’ll be better served by learning to roll his own telescope. Anything is possible.

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Truly Powerful People (430)

Posted on May 13, 2012 by davidrobinsoncreative

430.
Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

Sitting in my assigned seat (7B) I was taken by this phrase: Use bottom cushion for flotation device. I’ve flown several hundred times in the past decade and I’ve seen this phrase on every flight and took little notice. For some reason today it struck me as odd. The airline stenciled it in 3 places on the seat back directly in front of me; that makes 9 stencils for every row! There are only 3 exit signs on the plane. The emergency exit rows have some escape hatch instructions that are also written in the language of toy assembly: pull red handle to position “A,” lift hatch bottom until it detaches from slot “C.” Thrust hatch out and let go. These instructions are given only once. Why the flotation device repetition? Getting out of a sinking plane seems a higher priority than knowing that floating is an option. It’s all very corporate. Legal.

I suppose that’s the point. The phrase is there to satisfy a legal requirement and is reiterated 3 times so the airline will not be liable for my death by drowning. The irony of that possibility made me cackle and my seatmates grew nervous. I pointed to the phrase and lied, “I find this a statement of hope!” and my seatmates looked away. In the age of the underwear bomber, humor is suspect. They worked hard pretending I wasn’t there so I made them stretch beyond their limits pointing to the 3 identical stencils saying, “Three times must be a charm.”

That must be the explanation! If my plane went down in the water (unlikely on my flight from Lincoln to Denver) and I survived the impact (unlikely on a flight from Lincoln to Denver) I doubt that I would be thinking clearly. I have a list of the things I’d probably think – none of which I feel good about writing. I cackled again and my seatmates eyed the flight attendant button so I said, “It actually might take 3 repetitions for me to grab my bottom cushion en route to flotation and eventual water rescue.” Their panic was palpable so I said, “I guess you should be glad I’m not sitting by the door. We’d all drown.”

The image of me popping through an airplane hatch riding like a cowboy atop a seat cushion and bobbing to the surface of a mountain lake was too much. I laughed outright and couldn’t stop myself from saying, “I wonder where they keep the oars?”

Filed under: Language, Random, Truly Powerful People | 5 Comments »

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