CHICKEN BUS TO PETATLAN – Plucking Away At My Own Joy

“Peta Peta Peta!” The young ayudante hangs nonchalantly out the clunky bus’s open door barking our destination to folks along Zihuatanejo’s bustling back streets. 

My compadre, Silverio, and my friend, Larry, have come down here to the southwestern Mexican state of Guerrero, Mexico from Minnesota to help me celebrate my birthday. And today we’ve hopped aboard the second-class “chicken” bus for the hour-long trip to Petatlán, a pueblo of 25,000 located 35 kilometers southeast of Zihuatanejo.

(Petatlán is best known for two things. Foremost is the Sanctuary of the Padre Jesús de Petatlán, a church less notable for its architecture than its display of a highly-revered statue depicting Christ collapsing under the weight of the Cross, steeped in legend about its mysterious discovery in the 16th century. The town’s other claim to fame is its busy handcrafted gold jewelry market.)


OPENING MORE THAN WINDOWS
Among the first aboard the bus, the three of us spread out, grabbing the few precious seats with both unobstructed views and working windows.

Finally clearing Zihua’s maze of narrow streets, we head out into the countryside on federal highway 200. It’s hot, already in the upper 80s, and the constant humidity wafting in over La Costa Grande from the Pacific belies the tawny, dry-season hue of much of the landscape. It’s mostly just the irrigated commercial groves of coconut palm and mango that remain green this time of year.

By now a few more windows have been pried open and the moving air feels delicious. The ayudante, the fingers of one hand neatly interlaced with color-coded peso bills, totters down the swaying aisle collecting the 30-peso fare.

At the stop for Los Achotes, a few folks get off and a lovely young woman and her three-year-old daughter get on and sit down across the aisle from me. I say, “Hola, buenas tardes,” and both turn toward me with the kind of generous, open-hearted smiles I’ve come to associate with Mexicans.

Somehow, those smiles penetrate the corners of my consciousness, places I try
to keep open, but which too often evade the light of day. It’s as if all my petty concerns —boarding the right bus, having change for the fare, getting dropped off at the right stop, the quality of my Spanish, and making sure my buddies have a good time—simply evaporate.

  I feel completely comfortable, completely safe,  
  completely engaged, completely…well, complete.

MULTI-SENSING
Suddenly, I’m utterly in the moment, acutely aware of all my senses. I’m struck by the colors and textures of the bus’s gaudy interior, the passing scenery, the people’s clothing and skin; the happy, polka-like strains of  ranchero music the driver’s just cranked up; the smell of that slightly sweet, smoky, sweaty breeze.

I’m sitting there, turned slightly toward the aisle, one arm draped easily over the back of the adjacent seat, feeling sublimely relaxed. Here I am, I reflect, on the chicken bus to Petatlán, a shaky, noisy metal box with hard, lumpy seats and about enough leg room for a child.

And there’s absolutely no place on earth I’d rather be.

In the company of good friends, immersed in a culture I believe I’ve inhabited in a previous life, swept up in exactly the kind of adventure I so often dream of, I feel completely comfortable, completely safe, completely engaged, completely…well, complete.

I’m happy…very happy…maybe as happy as I’ve ever been!

I savor it as long as I can, but my reverie soon starts fraying at the edges, nibbled by other thoughts. As it unravels, I scan memory for other times I’ve experienced such quiet, certain joy; there have been, I regret to say, very few.

         As my guilt and my self-respect have this 
         nervous little dance, I wonder what kind 
         of a person I really am.

THE “SHOULDS,” “CANS” AND “MUSTS” OF WANDERLUST
Now I’ve never been very good at preventing second thoughts from muddling first ones. And so the rest of the trip is tinged with guilt as I wonder how a man as blessed as I’ve been could possibly count a bus ride among his peak experiences.

For God’s sake, I’m thinking, you’ve been gifted with two amazing children and two grandchildren. You married an incredible woman who has enriched your life. You’ve been to  so many amazing places and so deeply bonded with Nature. You’ve seen loved ones face mortal challenges and survive. You’ve given and gotten so much love.

And yet you consider the simple, fleeting joy you’re experiencing on this bus to
be among the happiest moments of your life? Have I unmasked some kind of shallowness here…or am I just being honest and spontaneous?

PHOTO: HealthyPlace.com

As my guilt and my self-respect have this nervous little dance, I wonder what kind of a person I really am. Should I try to change which of my life experiences most tap into my soul? Or should I just accept that this is an authentic part of who I am—the kind of stuff I live for—even though I can barely avoid calling it selfish?

THE CHOICE
By the time we pull off onto the dusty bus stop at Petatlán, I’ve come to at least a tentative peace with my dilemma. In a kinder assessment of myself I realize that the joy I’ve just experienced in no way diminishes those other, perhaps weightier, gifts of life and love I’ve received.

I conclude that I can no more choose which of life’s experiences truly move me or bring me joy than I can which joke makes me laugh. No, I figure, those opportunities, those all-too-rare gifts of perfect presence, choose me.

And that’s just going to have to be okay.

So, as my friends and I start up the long steps to the church and zocalo, I turn and watch our bus pull away in a cloud of dust. I celebrate the few moments of precious clarity and centered-ness I’ve just enjoyed. And I chuckle to myself at the thought of my plucking, clucking little self doubts…still on that bus.

EPHEMERAL ETCHING - The Joyous Geometry of Ice

Sunday morning I found this lovely sheet of etched ice on the driveway just outside our back door. That unseasonably warm winter day, water already flowed under it, and by ten it was gone.

Both the impermanence and the impact of this art stun me…make me wonder. Why do the major vertices radiate from an imaginary point on the adjacent asphalt, while others are scored as fields of parallels?

Why are some lines fringed with still-finer, feathery details? Why is just that one gap clear of all but the ghostliest whisper of texture?

And the geometry…I suppose it’s no wonder that the four main axes fan at 15 degrees, while those hatched parallels stem from them at 30—both exact divisors of the 60-degrees between branches of a snowflake.

THE JOY OF BLOGGING – A Virtual Person of the World

PART II (To return to part I, click HERE.)

ILLUSTRATION: Carol Aust - carolaust.com

CREATURES OF HABIT
Several friends and family members have asked me about how to get started blogging. Of course, I’m happy to share what little knowledge and experience I have. After all, I ask them, what have you got to lose? At worst, you’ll spend countless hours writing and posting for your own and perhaps a few other sets of eyes. At best, you’ll become the next Life Hacker or Mashable, get absurdly rich and never leave your computer chair again.

Start with what you know best. Perhaps it’s stuff related to your nine-to-five, but which isn’t fully appreciated by your boss. Maybe it’s some hair-brained theory you can’t get folks to listen to. Or maybe, as in my case, it’s just a series of unforgettable life experiences strung together on threads of spirituality, philosophy or some other theme. Whatever you know, care deeply for, or just wonder about...that’s your content.

 You produce something heart-felt and interesting 
 on a regular timetable or people will go somewhere 
 else for their blog fix.

A word of advice, though: If you’ve ever been in charge of producing a newsletter, you know that all the best intentions in the world are not enough to save you each week, month or quarter when that merciless deadline approaches. I have, and believe me, that publish-or-perish date seems to sneak up on you faster every issue. You’ve got to produce something heart-felt and interesting on a regular timetable or people will go somewhere else for their blog fix.

How often should you post? If you want your site to attract and retain a following, you must commit to a regular schedule. The frequency will hinge on how much you have to say, how efficient a writer you are, your resourcefulness in wrangling content from yourself and other contributors, and of course how much time you can devote to your writing.

(For the first year or so, I managed a new post every third day. Now, it’s more like once a week—and that seems to be the threshold at which I notice daily readership starting to fall off.) Remember, blog followers, like newspaper readers, radio listeners or podcast fans, are creatures of habit.

PACKAGING THE WORD
Just a word or two about design. Without even reading a word, it’s pretty easy to see who the credible bloggers are and who are the rank amateurs. Not even the most engaging content can hold its own against a poorly organized, unappealing, visually unwelcoming design.

PHOTO: r77designs.com

My goal was to position my One Man’s Wonder as far toward the professional end of that spectrum as I could with the resources at my disposal. As I mentioned, I spent nothing on design (though I am a career graphic designer and know how to make the best of even a limited number of design options). Perhaps you have a friend or two who are conversant in design and would give you some pointers.

Here are half a dozen design and style tips you might consider:

• Strike a balance between verbal and visual content. Use sub-headings, featured quotes, photos and illustration to both support the story and lend visual relief to long blocks of type.
• Limit your paragraphs to three sentences if possible. Even if technically it’s not a new thought, breaking it up like this makes it much easier to follow on a glowing screen.
• Use fonts that are easy to read. Serif fonts are well-known to be easier to follow in blocks of text, while the occasional use of sans-serif type can lend variety for headings and captions. Try not to use more than two different type styles in a single post.

         If you need a bit of encouragement—
         let me know and I’ll be glad to help. 

• Use comfortable language. You don’t want potential readers turned off by too much technical jargon or a stilted tone; they can get their fill of that in an academic textbook. Use connecting words and transitions to let one thought flow easily into the next.
• Avoid garish colors and backgrounds that compete with your text. You’ve probably seen them: blogs where the author’s favorite color gushes from the page, drowning the other content. And that forest green type on a royal blue background? Bad idea! You want as much contrast as possible between text and what it sits on.
• Maintain a consistent look. You wouldn’t wear a disguise when showing up for a second date, right? Well, your readers shouldn’t have to take a second look to recognize your blog either. Not to say you shouldn’t freshen up your face once in a while. Between the occasional make-over, though, keep it familiar with your usual fonts, colors and layout.

And, if you have any questions—or simply need a bit of encouragement—let me know and I’ll be glad to help. We bloggers, I've found, are mostly an open, supportive bunch. Happy blogging!

THE JOY OF BLOGGING – A Virtual Person of the World

PART I  of two parts
 

ILLUSTRATION: kingdesignllc.com

About ten years ago I ran into an old schoolmate who told me how much he
was enjoying blogging. “Great!” I replied, not wanting to reveal my ignorance. Nonetheless, he explained briefly how it worked and that it allowed him an international forum for his best thinking and writing. He said it was easy; I
wasn’t so sure.

But the idea of blogging simmered in the stew of my ambitions. Then, a few years ago, I found myself on the verge of having my first book* published. One of the first questions I knowingly asked my publisher was, “Should I start a blog?” And they agreed that was a great idea.

The strategy, they told me—apparently the rapidly changing indie publishing industry’s new model of how to market a book—was to build, well before our release date, an online following for the kind of content featured in my book, and then pitch the release not just to the nebulous universe of Amazon and Barnes & Noble shoppers, but to my own, pre-vetted, captive audience.

So, a few years back, I started One Man’s Wonder. It was as easy as my friend had said it was; I used Google’s Blogger** platform, which provided me a number of predesigned formats and simple, intuitive tools to customize them to my tastes. And—unbelievably then as now—it was free.

         If it was good, I got comments from 
         readers, making it not just my soapbox, 
         but a lively forum.

The blog, along with my faithful empire-building efforts on Facebook and Twitter, delivered more or less as everyone had hoped. Sure enough, I gained followers who became fans who became buyers of my book. But I also got to connect with kindred spirits who simply share my love of Nature and my appetite for the spiritual nutrients it provides—some of whom were also working on their own books.

A few of these more-famous-than-I new friends, at least partly because of their familiarity with my work through the blog, were kind enough to endorse my book—which has made a huge difference in gaining it interest and credibility.

But One Man’s Wonder’s connection with my book soon became secondary, for blogging came to be a joy in its own right. I got to write about things I ponder all the time and that I love to share. If it was good, I got comments from readers, making it not just my soapbox, but a lively forum. I was grateful, too, for the occasional push-back, which helped me to examine both my thinking and my style.

MYSTICAL MINGLING
It was thrilling to count—in Blogger’s rudimentary analytics feature—the number of visitors I was getting every day, which operating systems and browsers they were using, the keywords they entered to find me, and in which countries they logged in.

I remember those first weeks when I was checking my page views every hour or two, hoping to break double figures for that day. Then, gradually, with the help of my growing followings on Facebook and Twitter, my daily readership grew to the hundreds and, on a good day, the thousands.

Even as I surpass 300,000 all-time page views, I realize these numbers mean little by themselves. Still, it’s been an amazing experience tracking them, watching them grow, and trying to imagine people in, say, China gazing down at the exact same screen view I was seeing—my writing, my photos, my thoughts and feelings.

      Connecting with someone across repressive 
      political or cultural barriers, like fishing 
      for giants in a deep, dark pool, borders on
      the mystical.

But the truest rewards of all have been the wonderful comments I get in person from readers, many of them “lurkers,” followers who never comment online, or who do so anonymously. Ranging from “Oh, I love the photos you share!” to “Such-and-such a post inspired me to get my kids off their little screens and outdoors for some real connection,” this feedback reminds me that my audience is far wider and more interested than the number of comments would suggest.

Visitors to One Man's Wonder have logged on from 85 countries.

Especially fascinating is the international following I seem to have built. At first I was blown away by noticing an occasional page view from Canada, Mexico or somewhere in Europe. But the list has grown, now comprising 85 countries from Argentina to Vietnam.

Connecting with someone on the other side of the world—often across repressive political or cultural barriers—is more than just gratifying; like fishing for the denizens of a deep, dark pool, it borders on the mystical.
(To continue with Part II, click HERE)

* UNDER THE WILD GINGER - A Simple Guide to the Wisdom of Wonder. You can order custom-dedicated, signed copies directly from the author at a special discount for the holidays—just $9.95. Just send Jeff an email: jeff@willius.com

** There are many other free blogging platforms, including WordPress, Typepad, Moveable Type and Tumbler, some of which have far more sophisticated features, but I’ve found Blogger’s intuitive design features—not requiring any knowledge of HTML programming—suit my needs very well.

THE BAGGY COAT – A Holiday Reflection

During this season of generosity swirling with obligation, of simple joy made sad by unmet expectation, of grateful abundance diminished by addictive excess, I'm trying on, once more, the baggy coat of acceptance, a garment whose fit depends on not its own but the wearer's measure.

         

What do you need to accept or let go of to let the simple, joyous spirit of the holidays wrap comfortably around you?

CROCUS POCUS – A Magical Message of Spring

In the fall of my sophomore year in college, my roommate and fraternity brother, Kim, planted crocuses around the big elm in the Chi Psi lodge's front yard. I was either too self-involved or too impatient to fully grasp the significance of that act…until spring, that is.

After that long, gray New England winter and two trimesters with my spirit confined within classrooms, books and my own head, those brave little purple, white and yellow flowers did more than brighten my spirits; they taught me something I'd always remember about my sense of wonder.

That was all about being in the here & now. What 
I had yet to learn was about the there & then.

Those crocuses were far from my only connection with Nature; I'd grown up, like most kids those days, with the great blessing of having nowhere to go but outdoors, little to do but play. Once I was in school, I was as likely to be listening to a bird, an insect, or the wind just outside the classroom window as I was the teacher.

But that was all about being in the here and now. What I had yet to learn was about the there and then, about the small investments wonder so often requires of us.

Nature would take each of those tiny 
bulbs and turn it into a miracle.

In Kim's case it was, most obviously, his investment of intention—I want to start something, grow something—followed, certainly, by patience. But it was also a venture of hope and faith. He knew—he believed—that, from that humble gesture of kneeling, digging and setting in those tiny bulbs, Nature would take each of them and turn it into a miracle.

I'll always be grateful to Kim for planting those bulbs…and for planting in me those seeds of understanding that wonder is not always impetuous. For that is the soul of spring: faith, rewarded; beauty, bestowed; life, proclaimed.

HAPPY SPRING TO ALL!

SEASON'S GREETINGS!!

I may be without a computer for a few days, so I want to wish all my visitors and loyal followers from all over the world—over 70 countries so far—the very best of this season. For us Christians, that means MERRY CHRISTMAS! (para mis amigos hispanohablantes, ¡FELIZ NAVIDAD!) For my Jewish friends, it's HAPPY HANUKKAH! For all of us here in the northern hemisphere, it's HAPPY WINTER SOLSTICE! 

Whatever your celebration, may these days be kind to you, your families and your loved ones! 

HAPPY FOR NO REASON –

(I was inspired to write this post by my dear friend, author and spiritual maven Robin Easton, who always has something inspirational to say -- Naked In Eden.)

I don’t claim to have the secret to happiness. But for the past decade or so 
I’ve been hacking away at some of the gnarled undergrowth that makes that age-old mystery so hard to untangle. I’ve learned a thing or two. And though 
I keep hacking, it seems the more I do so, the less important the object of the quest becomes. Why is this? Here are a few of my observations to date:

THE MAKE-ME-HAPPY MYTH
Some people seem to think they need a darn good reason to be happy, like something extraordinary has to happen to them first. Otherwise, they figure, they'll just have to settle for either being unhappy or, perhaps, not feeling much of any-
thing at all. I feel sorry for those poor souls; that construct, it seems to me, is exactly the opposite of how the cosmos really works.

     The way Creation intended us to feel most 
     of the time—our default setting, if you will—
     is joy.

No, the way Creation intended us to feel most of the time—our default setting, if you will—is joy. What needs a reason is sadness, anger, fear and all those other lurking saboteurs of joy.

If there's no reason for any of those unpleasant emotions, or, more importantly, if the reason is one we can work our way around or through, well, then we're just stuck with what's left: happiness.


BETWEEN STORMS

I'm not saying life doesn't throw us a curve now and then. Disappointments show up; we feel lost or out of control; loved ones get hurt or lost or pass away. Of course these events trigger powerful emotions; that's part of life. But, like so many aspects of human consciousness, we'd do well to recognize that these emotions—even staggering ones like shame, grief or hopelessness—are not the end of the world, but temporary storms on an otherwise tranquil sea.

In those periods of turmoil happiness may seem like it's nowhere to be found. But even though we're overcome with unhappy emotions, happiness is still there, in the background, just waiting patiently for its chance to take back its rightful place at the helm of your emotional ship.

FAITHFUL FEET
So how do you believe in something you can't see? It takes experience, knowing that, as you've observed more than once, this too shall pass. It takes a sort of discipline—keeping your eyes and heart open, at least a crack, for the signs of hope and healing. And, as with anything we desperately want but can't immediately see, it takes faith, in ourselves, in others and in whatever we revere as our higher power.

        If I choose to start rolling back a layer 
        of doubt, regret or anger to see what’s 
        there, it helps if I expect it’s going to be 
        something good.

You may have heard me say that, in general, we see what we expect to see. This is as true in our own disposition as it is in Nature. When I lift up a leaf to see what’s under it, I don’t do that because I expect to find nothing. It’s as much an act of faith as it is of curiosity. That is, my chances of finding something increase in proportion to how much I expect to find it. The same is true of happiness. If I choose to start rolling back a layer of doubt, regret or anger to see what’s there, it helps if I expect it’s going to be something good.

When it feels like the earth's dropped out from under your feet, as if emotion's moved you away from your true center, getting happy again may seem like the last thing on earth you can—or even want—to do. At times like these, it may be all you can handle to just keep putting one foot in front of the other. But you must remember that peace and happiness are still there, and will eventually rise up to meet your faithful feet once again.

Once you're back on solid ground, you re-connect with your lightness of being. You again see your world as the ordinary, routine, often mundane, yet breathtakingly beautiful place it is. No reason. Just joy.

What barriers would you have to navigate in order to 
be happy for no reason?

HOW TO BE IN THE MOMENT – 101 Little Tips

 TIP #74

Celebrate your own footsteps.

Feet ... those poor, thankless servants, ever first to shoulder the load, ever last to see the sun. Yet, above the quiet toil, they proclaim their joy—if only we allow them, and listen.

    Let your steps whisper through dry autumn leaves. Encourage their earnest crunch on dried acorns, their squeals of delight compressing dry snow. Indulge their mischievous cracking of ice edges undercut by melt water. Abide the thin chatter of a kicked pebble. 
    Celebrate their joy and yours, not just in getting somewhere, but in the going.