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Opportunities Lost

I watched my father die a slow death, literally wasting away before my eyes. Once a fierce, proud and determined man, before me now lay a pathetic shadow of this domineering personality. Only the cold, dark eyes of judgment remained.

He never softened as the end of his life became aware to him. There was a big heart inside but, although the approaching end grew closer and closer, he never shared from this heart – at least, not to me.

 No, he remained business as usual until the end. In one of our last conversations he boastfully admitted that he was able to pull strings to get me accepted into the Naval Academy. It was a fact I suspected but preferred the sanctity of doubt to the cold reality of never having belonged in the first place. Such was his nature – I’ve long since forgiven him.

 Sadly, his illness and death never presented an opportunity for healing and forgiveness. It was the waste of a potential lesson that could have done much to advance our souls – each of us. I lacked the courage and he lacked the humility to offer. And so our final parting remained a standoff…he with the arrogance of a controlling father and I with the shame of an imperfect son. A wasted lesson, indeed.

 Now less than fifteen years later, by some perverse irony of the Universe, I learn that my oldest son, David, is afflicted with the same disease as my father: pancreatic cancer.

 As I struggle with the reality of this irony, I continually flash back to that dreadful scene with my father in his last days. And I project ahead a similar scene. It is terrifying and so very sad. I am angry now and grieve a potential loss for no apparent reason.

 Yet, I know it will be different this time. There will be no walls separating and preventing the natural bond of father and son. I am so grateful and proud that my son has the strength of character and power of humility to accept his fate with graceful submission. He understands God’s will without trying to pick apart the details of His Devine plan. Unlike my father, he will not stubbornly and defiantly resist the opportunity of staring face-to-face into his own mortality.

 We take so much for granted…always believing there will be another day, another opportunity to find peace and happiness…not realizing that it’s already with us.

 As I saw my father as always being there, I believed there would be plenty of chances to show him that I mattered. But when I had the opportunity, the urgency of communication, I looked away…and so did he. And so I never mattered.

Likewise I saw my son as always being there. We had time. I had much to say and suspect that he did as well. Yet, we each knew the other would be around and, someday, we would put all this stuff on the table – when the time was right.

There is no time – procrastination means opportunity lost…forever. I cannot speak for Dave but, as for myself, there will be no more squandered opportunities. I know this from the last days I spent with my father; I will not let it happen again.

 And so, as I grieve for Dave and his family, I strive to suppress the anger and focus instead on the opportunity…and gratitude that I have awareness. Awareness now of the pitfalls of arrogance and fear. No father-son relationship should be subject to such things. I thank God I have time to, once and for all, redefine the basis of our special bond.

 

Blinded

Oh that I could see
The beauty of your soul,
Resting peacefully in silence
Beneath your surface.

But your surface is a mirror
Its reflection blinds me,
Blinds me to your truth
And your perfection.

So bright this mirror that reflects
Only what I choose to see
Dancing on the surface
Only flirting with me

Denied your truth
This mirror won’t reveal
Its shadows and fragments
And the fear it conceals

Your reflection blinds me
Reflection of what?
Why, it’s how I see you, of course!

No, not really.
It’s not you I see.
It’s me.

Reflected only fear and doubt
From every surface they appear
No, you do not blind me
I blind myself.

Don’t Open the Box

I love the mystery implicit in theories such as those of quantum mechanics. They describe, for example, the sub-atomic world – a world in which strange elements with stranger names live - photons, quarks, leptons and antiquarks…hundreds actually. These are theoretically the primary elements that constitute the intimate nature of matter. Yet they behave in strange and unpredictable ways, at least according to our understanding of reality. As technology progresses, scientists delve deeper and deeper into the complex structure of matter only, it seems, to be met with more questions than answers. Hence the mystery, the wonder of it all. And, with the mystery, is the question regarding realities and possibilities far greater than our ability to understand. I belong to the majority whose understanding of such theories is superficial at best. Yet they provide wonderful analogies and metaphors that help fill in the gaps of my own concepts of reality and awareness.

For instance, take the concept that quantum elements can exist simultaneously in two separate states - both as particles, like tiny specs of dust, and also as waves or states of pure non-physical energy. How can they be both at the same time? Particles mean matter - a “thing”; waves are energetic in nature – a potential.

When unobserved, these strange elements seem to act only in wave-like form, dancing and vibrating, interacting with other energies in complex and mysterious ways. Here they represent pure energy with infinite potential. 

But when scientists “look” or attempt to measure quantum phenomena, these elements leave only “footprints” – the suggestion to the observer that they are discrete particles as evidenced, for example, as the tracks left by electrons on a photographic plate. Does this mean that matter has no real existence except from our observing frame or reference? Is its existence only apparent based on our sensory or measuring apparatus?

This is a bit of a stretch for my unscientific mind. Are quantum elements both energy and matter at the same time…but only observable as particles? If so, this leads me to some interesting speculation.

First, we must also be ultimately composed of these strange quantum elements by virtue of the fact that we are a collection of atoms and molecules in organic and cellular form. Are we therefore both matter and energy at the same time as well – interchangeable and open to infinite states and possibilities? 

Science postulates that, in the absence of measurement or observation, the natural state of all things exists as pure energy – unpredictable and forever interacting with other energy fields in a vast universe of infinite potential. This would suggest that our own individual quantum energies are in a continuous interaction with those of all other quantum energies, connected and moving with divine order. I love the image this brings to mind – for me, it is the concept of spiritual connection.

Science is somewhat more mundane, however. Observations of these entities reveal only their particle or matter component at a specific point in time. Once observed, the potential of these quantum elements to take other forms or directions has been forever lost, frozen in time without further possibility. These observed and recorded particles are now separate and discrete. It is said, in scientific jargon, that their infinite potential and interactivity has “collapsed” into a particle (or physical) state through observation. Before observation there was only energetic potential…with infinite possibility. In other words, once we “know” the current state, the other possible states no longer exist.

We open the box and look inside. We must see what’s in there. Maybe there’s treasure…maybe not. Whatever it is before exists as pure potential…as an energetic state…until we open the box. Then we know. Now its contents are real and finite…its potential has collapsed…separated.

Would there be a way to resist this temptation to look inside the box and always remain in an unlimited state of anticipation? Not easy for us humans. We’re not built or wired that way. Our minds and egos demand to see reality and so we continually open the box in an ongoing quest to measure ourselves, our contents, against the contents of others. In so doing, we separate and isolate. 

Everyone with whom we interact is, in one way or another, doing the same thing – looking inside the box…attempting to define their own reality in juxtaposition with each other. This reality is limiting – it obscures so much unknown potential. 

While I’m as guilty as the next in my failure to resist this temptation, I am trying to use this abstract principal of quantum theory as a metaphor for the way in which I limit myself or obsessively worry about that which appears to have no solution. If I could spend more time outside the box rather than inside perhaps I could better feel this unlimited potential of my waveform self…that spiritual component which is always present and always interacting in accordance with a Divine order that has all our best interests in mind. If I believe…if I know there to be this mysterious energetic component of my being, I’m able to be more at peace – even when I’m feeling down and back to looking in the box again. Looking for answers. 

Or if I have a problem that seems to endlessly plague me, I’m haunted by what could happen…what could go wrong. I’m constantly looking inside the box freezing the possible outcome to the current moment in time. What if I could leave it alone and allow the total range of possibilities to open before me? Wait for the solution rather than force it?

In truth, there is no box…and there are no limits – only the ones we impose on ourselves. Our makeup is remarkable and mysterious and does consist of the energetic possibility described in the quantum world. It does allow us unlimited potential if we let it.

So the science of Quantum Theory does present me with this helpful metaphor. Don’t open the box – there is no box. Focus instead on that range of infinite possibilities and interactions that are mine. They exist for me and with whomever I relate - always present and always with my best interests in heart and mind…and theirs as well.

In reality, we’re all in this thing together.

The Struggle Within

Were I able to extend
An open hand
Inviting exchange
Welcoming connection.

My hand is not an open hand
Instead clenched across my chest
A fist wound to strike
Covering a wounded heart.

My eyes look down
At that fist with knuckles white
Inward, ever inward
No feeling can escape.

Instead the fury of my emotions
Swirls ever tighter within this heart
I cannot hear the cries for help
Only the pounding in my chest.

Within, ever within
While my fist shakes in anger
My emotions tightly drawn inside
Nothing will escape.

Defiant eyes survey my opponent
Equally postured
Equally defiant
Equally wounded.

I reject, withdraw
He follows my every move – perfectly
Who is this opponent
Who allows me no defense?

Defiant eyes look back
And there is recognition
I’ve seen those eyes before
Do they belong to me?
Am I my own opponent?

So sad; so serious
We bear the burden of our fury
Placed heavily on broad shoulders
By ourselves, only by ourselves.

Our eyes still locked…but wait
With ever so faint
A smile forms
And is returned.

Defiance dissolves in momentary truce
Anger relents
Amidst the humor of our folly
I see this enemy within.

A child looks back
His tongue stuck out
He cries because he cannot play
There is no danger…should I let him?

My fist becomes an open hand
Extended outward from my heart
I am at peace – there is no threat
No enemy within.

That goofy kid just wants to play
And I know he can
That goofy kid became a man
And I know who I am.

Vulnerability

I stand firm and proud
A proverbial beacon of strength
My power intimidates
Power seekers surround me
Why am I so alone?

My image ramrod straight
Unflappable
Courageous
Charming
Witty
And more alone than ever

Who is this pillar of strength?
Is it me…or who I should strive to be?
I yearn to be myself
I have lost that self I liked so much
Buried beneath the towers of my “Image”

A sudden sadness overwhelms me
The steel façade begins to crumble
Against my will, through tears of anguish
The essence of my being lies revealed…vulnerable
Undefended, trusting with arms outreaching
Loving Souls comfort me
I am never alone.

I can recall so clearly, as a young Plebe at the Naval Academy, being the object of wrath of so many upperclassmen. I was seventeen, rebellious, miserable and totally resentful of finding myself in an all male military establishment. I had no military aptitude or bearing; I wasn’t cut out for this sort of stuff. 

My dad forced me to go Well, I could hardly say no after being accepted…only to find out forty years later that he had a hand in my acceptance. So I went, determined that I could find “the right stuff” – but it wasn’t my stuff. I became very confused, feelings of personal unworthiness intensified.

The upperclass got on my case. One in particular wants to get me to quit. I can’t do that – go home to a disappointed and judgmental father – no way. He’s always after me; I can’t escape. He finds me in formation one evening just before dinner. My shirt is soaked with sweat from doing pushups for the past half hour. I know he will find something wrong. He does.

“Stevens, you piece of shit!” he bellows not six inches from my face.

“Yes, Sir,” I respond acknowledging, I suppose, his admonition.

“Who shined your shoes?”

“I did, Sir”

“They look like shit! You look like shit.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I can’t hear you, maggot!”

“Yes, Sir!” I bellow with every ounce of energy I have, grateful for the physical outlet of intense rage and hatred I feel towards this person.

This upperclassman has friends. Two or three join him now and they look at me with ridicule and sarcasm.

“Fix your cap, asshole.” One commands.

Another makes fun of my posture.

Another turns his back towards me and breaks wind.

I have no choice other that to remain at attention, eyes straight ahead. Inside, the rage is exploding, ever so close to that point of no return.

And they just look at me and laugh.

My main nemesis looks into my eyes with scorn.

“You’re nothing but a piece of shit, Stevens. Why did you come here? Why don’t you go home? You should quit – we don’t want you here!”

“No, Sir. I want to become a naval officer.” (God, was this a lie!)

“Well, we don’t want you, Stevens! This place would be so much better if you just crawled out of here and left for good.”

Our eyes locked, defiant and challenging.

Without warning, a flood of emotions erupted within me. Rage turned to despair… despair to defeat… defeat to unworthiness. The reality of my military ineptitude and hopelessness of my situation screamed back to me.

My eyes flooded with tears. Silently, I began to shake… uncontrollably. I knew at that point I was toast.

Mr. Nemesis quickly dismissed his friends. I waited for the inevitable ridicule. He had done it…he had broken me.

He said nothing. His eyes softened and he put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. Quietly, he led me out of formation, around the corner to where I could gain my composure in private. In an instant, he went from nemesis to mentor. There was a friendly tenderness in his eyes now. 

I was embarrassed and fearful. He reassured me, shaking my hand. “We’ll get through this.” He said and became a good and lasting friend.

Now, so many years later, I can still see that change in his eyes at my moment of surrender. I hadn’t planned it that way, of course; it just happened. Why was his transformation so swift, so permanent and absolute? 

I thought I was being weak. Now I think differently. Vulnerability is not weakness…just the absence of defense, the absence of protective and threatening shields projected on others. Inside, I revealed my authentic self and appealed to that sense of connectivity we all have in open and honest moments.

When we reach the point in time when none of us needs weapons or shields, maybe there will be a new communion of humanity. Based in love and trust rather than suspicion and fear.

Wow! Wouldn’t that be something?
 

My New Chair

Sadly, or maybe not, there is coming a time in life when I place greater value on comfort than on excitement…or the adrenalin rush of physical activity. Yes, I still have endorphins – they’re perhaps a little slower in their transit through my system and seem to be activated more by stopping than starting. But, what the hell, an endorphin is and endorphin any way you cut it. I’ve got plenty and I feel great!

Last week I was reminded, quite by accident, of this wonderful aspect of aging. I found a symbol of my sanctuary of quiet, slow introspection. My New Chair. I loved this chair – I couldn’t have a better one if I designed and built it myself. How I came posses it is peculiar – a wonderful reminder of the synchronicity that winds through the fabric of our lives.

Andrea and I drove to the store last week. We live on a small island off the mainland of British Columbia. There’s never far to go and there’s not much we haven’t seen.

On the way back home, she said suddenly, “Let’s keep driving for a while. Maybe we’ll find some place we haven’t seen yet.”

“Good idea.” I felt her intuition was saying something. This is one of her many abilities for which I have great respect.

So we kept driving, past our home and on down the main road that serves this island. Five or so miles later there was an intersection to the left. I turned and followed a winding road that ended abruptly at the water’s edge. We turned around and headed back – then another intersection we had missed o the way down.

“Turn here,” Andrea said, “turn left.”

Obediently, I swerved to the left and followed this new, undiscovered road stretched out before us. It was narrow but paved and seemed to parallel the coast. There were a number of discrete driveway entrances on one side which we surmised led to expensive waterfront homes – none of which we could see though.

We neared the end after another mile or so and looked for a way back to the main road. It was then we noticed something very strange to the left. Back beyond the narrow shoulder resting comfortably in the high grass was a large, extremely comfortable-looking swivel rocker – the old Lazy Boy with a stick that raises the footrest. It was love at first sight!

I stopped the car, got out and approached it with awe. It was beige and overstuffed with a corduroy-like velour covering. In the seat was a piece of cardboard with the word “Free” hand written in black magic-marker.

I looked at Andrea. She shrugged. “Why not? Why don’t you try it out?”

Slowly I approached it. I had no idea how long it had been there. Perhaps it had sat for weeks on this lonely stretch of road. I carefully looked underneath the rocker for snakes. Nothing. There were a few stains and wear marks – cosmetic really – superficial indicators of wear. I appreciate that.

Gracefully, I lowered myself into its soft seat. It welcomed me with joy and acceptance. It was a perfect fit – we must have been made for each other.

“Andrea, try the chair!” She shook her head smiling with that knowing look, always a good sport.

“We need this for the living room.” I stated with what was hopefully an objective and dispassionate tone.

She agreed with such grace and style.

“Can we get it in the Honda?” she asked.

“Of course.” I said without the slightest idea how. It was a Honda Civic after all. The two of us struggled with this beast – it weighed a ton and just wanted to rotate around – it was a true swivel but not real workable or cooperative to two seniors trying to wrestle it into the trunk. We got a piece of it in – but that was it. Way too much chair for that little car.

As we each held a side of the chair trying to figure out what to do next, a lady in a late model SUV drove by and stopped, leaning out the window. “So you’re going to take the chair?” she stated politely but with a trace of relief.

I nodded with kind of a goofy smile. I felt an irrational urge to tell her I was a college graduate – not some homeless bum scrounging her neighbor’s throw-aways. “Yes” I answered with quiet reservation. “It was free.” I added for no apparent reason.

With only the back of the rocker in the trunk we had no way to get it home. If only we had some rope or a bungi cord….

“Why don’t you use this bungi cord?” Andrea asked. She had miraculously found one inside. I secured it and the chair was secured to the car - although somewhat precariously. I was about to leave gently taking our newly prized possession to its new home when Andrea said, “Wait!”

She jumped back out of the car and found the cardboard free sign. On it’s back she wrote with her ballpoint pen: “Thank you!”

Pure class.

We drove home at about 5 km/hr with a long line of cars behind us by the time we reached our driveway. No one was angry though. They must have realized that we had found a treasure. We were supported by all – especially the Universe. Isn’t strange how, just when you ask, somehow, if the intent is strong, the answer is right there.

I love my new chair.