The Direction of Intention

a detail of my latest painting

We’ve decided that we cannot use the word “vacation” to describe our most recent trip. Odyssey, perhaps, is more appropriate. A dog bite, projectile vomiting, 3 trips to the emergency room (yes – 3), crippling shin splints, witnessing the death of a dog, a freeway car breakdown, towing, an enormous bird flew directly into and broke the bumper just minutes after we got back on the road… For those of you with a voodoo doll with my name on it, rest assured that your spells are working.

This is also true: we saw the milky way, were serenaded by coyotes, watched a herd of elk cross a field at sunset, walked by a stream that magically silenced all thoughts, saw a double rainbow, spent precious time with family, experienced titanic kindness, were awed in the John Denver Sanctuary, received a well-timed dose of life-wisdom from an 83 year-old man sitting next to us at the bar. Oh, and learned the virtues and real-time value of an espresso martini.

This is also true: there was an emergency room close by when we needed it. The car broke down just as we came upon a rest area exit ramp (the day before we’d crossed 180 miles with no services). Kerri sang Sugar, Sugar with the tow truck driver, our AIR B&B hostess made it possible for us to stay an extra night when the emergency made it impossible for us to leave. Friends from home immediately offered help when they knew we were in trouble. They would have driven the 9 hours to fetch us if we’d have needed them.

Like all things, what we see depends upon where we decide to focus. Was our odyssey a disaster, a rich and varied adventure, a story of good fortune? Yes.

It was a reminder that things happen, circumstances change rapidly and we have little or no control over that. We can, however, choose how to live within the circumstances. As Kerri said this morning, “If the basic layer, the foundation, is happiness, you can build anything on top of it. Life can (and will) blow away what you build, but the basic layer remains.

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Bob and me.

In August, after my dad’s 80^th birthday party had wound down, as he slowly bent his aging achy body into his car, Bob Carl said, “I suspect this will be the last time you ever see me.” I told him to stop being silly but as it turns out, he was right. Bob died last night. Although the news was not totally unexpected it nevertheless stopped me in my tracks.

During my years of becoming I had three champions. They stood up for me, showed up for me, slapped me into focus, and encouraged me when I needed the support of an elder. They protected me when I felt unsafe in the world. They pushed me off the edge when I needed a shove to get moving. They were Tom McKenzie, my aunt Kathy Metcalf, and Bob Carl. In the past nine months all three left this earth.

Bob’s passing has, of course, made me reflective. I remember how much I feared him when I first met him. I was a boy and he was a retired military man, a former Drill Sergeant. He did not suffer fools and the force of his nature intimidated the boy version of me. He helped me find my force. He gave me lessons in fire.

His second career was as the mechanic of a research airplane that flew into storms. He spent his retirement flying into hurricanes. I love the metaphor. It is, in fact, what he taught me to do: fly into the storm; find the calm center. A storm always has a calm center.

As luck would have it, I had a call with Alan this afternoon after I heard the news of Bob’s passing. We talked about the uncanny alignment of these three deaths and what it means to me. As Quinn might say, a man without champions must be his own champion and that is pretty much what Alan reflected to me.

One of my stalking stories is Parcival (it is central to my book and continues to unfold for me). From the story, I’ve learned that a man becomes his own champion when he strips off his armor, relinquishes his quest (stops seeking), and gives his life over to the present moment. He chops wood. He carries water. As Bill shared with me, “After illumination, there is laundry.” In the present moment we have everything we need: no separation. It is in the present moment, unprotected (without armor) that the Grail Castle always reappears. Parcival (we) returns to the place where he initially got lost (didn’t speak his truth) and without the armor of social expectation, speaks without filter or editor. He is no longer invested in how he appears to others or what they might think of him – and so finds himself (the Grail).

As for speaking my unfiltered truth, I could not have had a better mentor than Bob. What scared the boy version of me – a man who spoke his truth without filter and with great force – has become in his passing, among his greatest gifts of guidance to me.

Go here to get my latest book, The Seer: The Mind of the Entrepreneur, Artist, Visionary, Seeker, Learner, Leader, Creator…You.

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from The Yoga series.

Things I love about life and the past 24 hours:

We ended our vigil and buried Kermit (our pond frog didn’t survive the winter. We hoped for hibernation but he was doing something other than sleeping). He didn’t make it so we took great pains to find the right spot to bury him. As we put him in his pond side grave, Kerri said, “We have to sing something.” So, we sang Kermit a farewell song. The neighbor stopped raking and held silence during the song.

I lost my voice on Palm Sunday so joked that, instead of singing, I wanted to do interpretive dance with the palm fronds. Suzi told me not to laugh because she once participated in a Liturgical Dance Team.

The owl.

Kerri misread a quote and instead of reading “life extends” she read “Life Ecstatic!” It’s become our mantra for the week.

Mike the Moose ate a stone. Pastor Tom said Mike would leave the stone behind one way or another.

The sun.

I learned that I could successfully eat skinny pop popcorn while reclining in a hammock.

Judy and I were talking about mistakes. She told me that if you weren’t making mistakes, you weren’t alive. On the same morning, Mary wrote and reminded me of a comment I made on our recent group call. I said: “Being ‘lost’ is an experience of living!” In other words, get lost. Appreciate the unique human experience of not knowing where you are.

Go here to get my latest book, The Seer: The Mind of the Entrepreneur, Artist, Visionary, Seeker, Learner, Leader, Creator…You.

Go here for hard copies.

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