Being human

A Goose

Authenticity, Being human, Community, Fear, Loss
Posted on 19 Comments on A Goose

The Field photo by Mary Dessein
There were two inches of snow on the extensive lawn and soccer field below my home, it was about 34 degrees. Frozen, cold, beautiful.
There was a lone Canadian goose stepping back and forth in a small area down on the field, about three hundred feet from my window. After a few minutes, it simply stood still. It was unsettling to see the lone goose there.

Surely it would fly off. It didn’t.

What could I do to help it? I was sure approaching it with bird seed was not a good idea. I would watch it. Perhaps call Animal Control if it didn’t fly off. Surely it would fly off.
Geese are not supposed to be alone. They instinctively stay in community and watch out for each other; often dropping out of their flying wedge formation if they detect one of their own is struggling. I came back to the window a little while later, the goose was still standing there, now with it’s neck drooped down, head lowered as if hopeless.

When I returned home, it was mid-afternoon. The goose was then sitting down, with its head lowered, in the same place it had been standing.
My heart felt like a fifty pound lump of coal as I looked at the lost, alone, cold bird. It hurt to stand there and watch the bird. I went off to find some phone numbers.

Two days before, on New Year’s, I texted a close friend, wishing her a fabulous 2018 and telling her she rocked! Her answer was, “I am afraid.” Of course, I texted back asking if she needed help, was she safe?

A few minutes later, she explained she was afraid of 2018. As 2016 had been a difficult year with several family dramas and sorrow, she had looked forward to a happier 2017. Which turned out to be so filled with pain and betrayal, she felt she couldn’t live through anything more. So … she was afraid of what 2018 would bring.

Where do you turn, what do you do when you are afraid of the next day? The next month? Who do you turn to when those close to you have left you? Aren’t we supposed to be a community and watch out for each other?

Fear. An F-word to be sure. Some say it is an acronym for Forsake Everything And Run (censored version), a short term strategy to avoid the problem causing the fear. However, the problem will likely still be there when you get back. More helpful to me has been False Evidence Appearing Real, as over time I recognized that most of my fears grew out of my self-doubt, trepidation about doing something new, or standing up for myself.

I saw a t-shirt years ago at a department store emblazoned with “Fear is a Thief.” It stopped me for a moment as that truth registered in me. Indeed, my fears had held me back from many things. Many things you don’t, I don’t, get a do-over on.

My heart hurt to hear of my tender friend living in that fear and foreboding on New Year’s Day, when so many people are high-fiving each other, celebrating a fresh start after some time off, and looking forward to opportunities. What could I do to help?

Be in her community. Alas, my magic wand to tap her three times and dissipate her fear has long since disappeared. I had it when I was five but somewhere along the way, I lost track of the darn thing.
Maybe that’s for the best.

There are times when I think of that goose. It still twangs my heart to see the picture so clearly in my mind of the elegant bird alone and hopeless in the white expanse. That day when I came back to the window after finding possible animal rescue phone numbers, the goose was gone.

Where? I’ll never know, I can only hope. My friend? I will be there to listen, and walk with her.
Maybe hope will come along, too.

Santa & Perfection

Authenticity, Being human, Choices, Fear, Perfection
Posted on 5 Comments on Santa & Perfection
Tram in Juneau photo by Mary Dessein

What do Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and perfection have in common? They don’t exist.
There are a zillion articles on how to deal with the question from your child when they come to you asking if Santa is real or how does the Easter Bunny lay eggs. There are also a myriad of opinions about it and the circumstances of the child doing the asking.

I’ll just tell you the truth flat out: perfection doesn’t exist.

Perfection is taught, inculcated, and presented as the best option, as the only viable goal, as the normal expectation, and yet it doesn’t exist.
Perhaps it can be meant to encourage people to do their best. Okay. However, there is usually a significant downside when ‘perfect’ is not achieved: getting written up at work, shamed by co-workers and/or boss, made fun of in school, as well as taking a hit to one’s self-esteem and self-worth. Conversely, those people doing the shaming and making fun are often just blinkin’ glad it is not them being called out, so they pile in with the nay-sayers in order that their lack of perfection is not identified. Dang, that is an out-of-balance system.

I used to be in the camp of ‘Perfection,’ believing it is a good thing, we need to work toward it, and shaming people is a way to motivate them. With dismay, I admit I have at times been in the group of people who pointed at others to avoid the spotlight being focused on me. In retrospect, it was my youth, my mistaken belief that others’ opinions mattered, inexperience with detecting groupthink, and fear.

Groupthink is a phenomenon when a group’s desire for harmony or conformity results in irrational, dysfunctional, and/or faulty decisions. My, oh my. I did participate in that, even though it didn’t feel right, I was unable to stand up and say, “Nope.”

One afternoon, Santa Claus, the tooth fairy, an honest lawyer, and a college student were walking down the street, they all saw the $100 bill at the same time. Who got it? The college student, of course, as the other three don’t exist.

We could each make a list of non-existents, however, groupthink does exist.
A driving component of groupthink is fear. It has a double edge with perfection: if I’m not perfect, then I’m not good enough. Oh la la, if I’m fearful that makes me controllable. There’s that busybody again: fear.

Tyrants, dictators, politicians, bullies, cops, teachers, CEO’s, supervisors, and parents, nearly everyone, have used fear to control. A light-bulb for me, a profound one as it so surprised me, was when I realized how a former boss controlled me with fear. When I saw that, it allowed me to see how her boss did the same thing.

The day the boss’s boss showed up to castigate me for an email that allegedly challenged her authority, I showed no fear as I wasn’t afraid, and when her intimidation and shaming strategy didn’t work, she left my office in a huff. I was calm, I answered questions evenly, I produced a copy of the offending email. Bonus round: I recognized that whatever was going on with her, was not about me. It was not until later in my mental replay, that I saw – without fear, I could be myself and not kowtow to their misuse of authority; and not be put in a defensive, subordinate position.

When the lawyer was waking up from surgery, he asked why the blinds were all pulled. The nurse answered, “There’s a fire across the street and we didn’t want you to think you’d died.”

Fear; fantasies that don’t exist yet serve a purpose for someone.

I’ll just tell you the truth flat out: you don’t have to participate in something that doesn’t exist. Your call.

Resonance, eh?

Being human, Choices, Community, Fun, Performance
Posted on 5 Comments on Resonance, eh?

photo Sean Gaskell

A kora is a musical instrument, originating in west Africa, which has 21 strings. Picture a large guitar, only the body is round, made from a large calabash (a variety of gourd) and the strings go straight up from the body, like a harp, not across it, as with a guitar. The strings are played with the thumb and index finger, while the remaining three fingers grip a handle on each side of the instrument. (Sean Gaskell: House concerts 7/15 Bellingham, 7/16 Snohomish. See the end for info)

All those strings make for a good deal of resonance as they vibrate and reverberate so close to each other. Were some of those strings added primarily to increase the resonation?
Increase resonation in order to enhance the sound, the feeling, the beauty of the experience?
How many of us add things to our lives simply to add resonance? To enhance our lives?
Certainly music would one thing, the resonation an obvious aspect, from along a spectrum of “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” to “Also sprach Zarathustra.” The origins of “Row, Row, Row Your Boat,” as so often with old folk tunes, are uncertain. The tune and lyrics familiar to us today were recorded in 1881. Then in 1896, Richard Strauss was inspired by Friedrich Nietzsche’s novel, ‘Also sprach Zarathustra,’ to compose a magnificent piece of music which continues to inspire and awe. Most of us are acquainted with the first section of it, the spectacular fanfare, ‘Sunrise.’

When I look at enhancing my life, adding resonation to what I do, and how I process the world around me, music absolutely comes to mind. Meeting new people and experiencing friendships are another ‘absolutely.’ Also, at this time in my life, some important teachers are making a profound impact as I understand more deeply their lessons: Julia Cameron, Steven Pressfield, Angeles Arrien, and Miguel Ruiz.

There is an expression about whether to be a human being or a human doing. A gift from Julia has been me allowing myself to be. I listen to the myriad of birds in my yard, smell the summer air wafting with mown grass and honeysuckle, I hear my cat prancing around meowing his comments to me. Previously, I was busy doing, with no time for such things.

“Be open to outcome, not attached to outcome,” said Angeles. A life-changer when I can do it. Then Miguel’s, “Don’t take anything personally.” Freedom and peace come with this, when I can do it. Peace is a wondrous resonation at this time of my life, when I can appreciate it and be conscious of whether I create it. Or not.

Come – be with us for some wondrous resonation, music, and stories with Sean Gaskell, master kora player. House concert in Bellingham on Saturday 7/15 at Doug & Melinda McLean’s home @ 4 p.m.
In Snohomish on Sunday 7/16 at Rick & Lynda Condon’s home at 4 p.m.
Suggested donation is $15 – $25, no one turned away.
RSVP me at [email protected] or my facebook page.
See you there ~

A Communal Hallelujah

Being human, Community, Joie de vivre, Living fully, Performance
Posted on 6 Comments on A Communal Hallelujah
Photo by Mary Dessein
Photo by Mary Dessein

In Dublin, on April 13, 1742, at age 57, George Frideric Handel debuted his new oratorio, Messiah. He composed it in 22 days. Are you kidding me? It takes me 22 days to clean my house. Even though he was a superstar at that time in London, he had worn out his fans with insignificant operas, and he’d gone bankrupt a couple times. (I had no idea you could go bankrupt in 1742.) So when he was invited to Dublin, across the water he went.

Last week, at Blessed Sacrament Parish in Seattle, their Schola Cantorum, Soloists, and Baroque Orchestra performed for nearly three hours to present Messiah. How many hours of practice that took is beyond me. And the music director, Matthew Loucks. There are not many people I would kiss the ground they walk on. We have never met, yet I watched what he did, how he did it, and the results that together they all achieved. The 21 member choir, soloists, and Baroque Orchestra were passionate; inseparable from the music they were making. They must have been high for days afterward. I hope so.

“But you don’t really care for music, do you? It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall, the major lift. The baffled king composing Hallelujah.”
Years ago, I sang in a randomly recruited choir assembled for a performance of John Michael Talbot’s The Lord’s Supper. The practices were challenging, as most of us had some singing/music background but were far from professional vocalists. However, we were motivated to sing this beautiful piece: the numerous parts, the harmonies, and the community of us working and singing together to live up to the beauty of the music and bring it live to others.

“There’s a blaze of light in every word. It doesn’t matter which you heard, the holy or the broken Hallelujah.”
Supposedly when King George II heard the Hallelujah Chorus the following year at its debut in London, he was so moved by it that he stood up. Of course, when the King stands, so does everyone, which is why audiences by tradition still stand today during performances of the Chorus. There are those who don’t stand, saying it pays respect to a long dead monarch and a societal practice, not to the music. Seems fitting to me to recognize genius, tradition, and a rich beauty that elevates us. When I hear the first notes of the allegro Hallelujah Chorus, I am filled with the exuberance of the music – standing up is the natural response. As I watch the wave of people around me rising to stand, I become part of a community of joyful listeners, joined witnesses to human endeavor. And hope.

“I’ve told the truth, I didn’t try to fool you. And even though it all went wrong, I’ll stand before the Lord of Song with nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah.”

Having a bad day? Feeling hopeless? Just want to feel alive? Listen to the Hallelujah Chorus. It doesn’t matter what religion you believe in or don‘t, what spiritual practice you have or don‘t. If the lyrics don’t work for you, pretend you don’t speak English. Hear the magnificent harmonies, sophisticated timing, exquisite layering of voices, subtleties and dynamism, and the trumpets! Oh the trumpets!

Listen.
Hear the brilliance of Handel and the beauty of human creativity and expression. If you don’t cry, I cry for you.
Thank you, George. Thank you, Leonard. Thank you, Matthew & company.

Ripples, Lessons, or Both?

Being human, Challenge, Choices
Posted on 10 Comments on Ripples, Lessons, or Both?

Bluebird bike
Bluebird bike
I gave myself permission to buy a bike.
In itself remarkable, as my choice of ultra frugal living these days, a bike is not a necessity. Yet I need exercise. Walking? Naah, too slow.
Yes, there are bikes for sale online. I know nothing about bikes. A friend tells me about a bike shop nearby. When I arrive, I find they don’t sell used ones. Low end new ones are $350. Then of course I need a helmet, tire pump, repair kit, kickstand, plus sales tax, so we are talking close to $500. Nope, not happening.
As I am beginning the trip back home, I hear my phone ding. Of course, I pull over in order to check it, and see Lydia’s text, “I love being divorced.” Oh really? That merited an immediate call. In the course of our conversation, she asked if I’d gone to a local big ‘everything’ store in my bike search. “Why no!” I said, “what a great idea.”

I get in the store, find the bicycles, an employee tells me many of them are on sale. A young couple in their 30’s stroll up. The husband wants a three-wheeled bike with a basket so he can tote groceries and their toddler. While he cute-ifies us riding up and down the aisle, his wife and I examine bikes, their experiences, their opinions on good bikes; a friendly employee comes by and offers to get down the bike that seems the best bet (and it‘s purple!) Another staff member sees it takes four hands to retrieve the bike, and helps him get it down.
After a few minutes of picking out a helmet, seat cover, bike bag, and a tire pump, I take them over to the counter, and come back for the bike. As I roll it up, and look around for a clerk, a man looks at me from the aisle at the end of the glass counter, which is a handgun case, about ten feet from me.
“Are you going to buy that bike?”
With a big smile, I nod.
“May I tell you about that bike? I repair and rebuild bikes.”
“Sure.”
He walks over to me, mid-thirties or so, curly dark hair, caucasian, slightly heavy-set, about eight inches taller than me. He points to the word typed on a clear sticker in black capital letters, FRONT. “See that? It’s because these bikes arrive mostly unassembled. Most of these bikes are pretty good bikes, yet the bikes, and barbecues, are assembled by guys who go from store to store doing that. They have ten minutes per unit. They are rarely bike mechanics. They are assemblers. See right here? This part is on backwards. Here, look at the calipers.”
He closes his hands into fists on the brake handles. “I am squeezing them full on. See, the calipers are not tight on the bike tire.”
“Are you my bike guardian angel?”
“Nope, bikes are how I make my living.”
Moving his hands off the handlebars, he steps back and nudges the derailleur, it wiggles. “This should not be moving like this, even though the unit is a good one. So, if you decide to buy this bike, you’ll need to take it into a bike shop and have it tuned up and some of it re-assembled correctly.”

Oh my.
Not only would I have bought this bike, I would have ridden it with these problems, having no idea that I was making them worse by riding it.
I introduce myself and ask his name.
“Paul.”
People coming out of nowhere to help me: Lydia happy to be divorced, the young man at the bike shop, the young couple, the helpful staff. Then Paul. All moving me forward.
Amazing. When others act in our lives. Assuredly, people have moved in my life, and moved me, whether I wanted to or not. It has been in the last year where I actively recognized where my actions ripple in others’ lives. That is almost a “Duh!” moment as I was a counselor for decades. However, that was my job, which means that I saw some of my impact on others but did not see it on the personal level that I have now begun to.

A real estate deal I was working on last year: it did not pan out to my benefit. I did a ton of work for the owners of the house, nearly all of it they did not know to do (getting an easement which had been erroneously placed on the property removed, a wetland expert out to examine the property; believe me, the list goes on.) In part due to my work, they eventually sold the property for more than they expected, and in part as I stirred the waters to get interest in the property.
Giving a lady who stopped me in the parking lot directions to the highway last week, so she in turn arrived at her destination where people were waiting for her so they could go on with their plans. Leaving an extra copy of the local newspaper for my neighbor, who reads it, talks with a friend, who then takes some action. The dominoes falling once set in motion. And most of the effects, I wouldn’t be able to imagine, for they happen outside my vision and awareness. (As well they should, I have enough trouble getting to sleep as it is.)
So, after owning my new sapphire blue bike a couple weeks, I get on it, helmet securely fastened, and launch out of my driveway. On to a street! I had up to this point only ridden on the paved trail for bikers and walkers.
As I get maybe twenty feet down the street, my seat tips forwards. Stop. Readjust it. Try again. Now I can’t get my foot onto the pedal fast enough, and have to keep restarting. Okay, wobbling forward movement. Seat tips again. Sheesh. I stop and readjust it. Knowing I have to go into the bike shop the next day, I realize this is too dicey an arrangement to ride in the big show: moving cars, 4 x 4‘s, and mini-vans. Before I reach the stoplight, I turn around to head home. As I veer left to get up onto the sidewalk, unable to turn and use the handbrakes at the same time, I nearly slam into my neighbor’s fence, and have to stop with my feet.

Okay, that’s the last straw. I dismount and walk the remaining few feet to my driveway. In years past, I would have been embarrassed.
Instead, the best supervisor I ever had’s adage came back to me, “If you can’t do it right, at least be a lesson.”
Ah, those ripples.

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