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.

HYPOCRITIC OATH – Choosing Real Reality

I write about Nature all the time—about its countless wonders, small and large; its wise counsel in ways of patience and knowing; and its constant coincidence with my brand of spirituality. I promote closer connections with Nature for everyone, especially children.

But I’m a hypocrite.

I actually don’t spend nearly enough time outdoors. And when I do, I sometimes forget to turn off my cell phone. Too often, I fall victim to the very temptation I urge others to resist: the lazy cosmopolitanism, the false presence, afforded by digital technology’s instant “connections” with people, places and information.

It started, I’m afraid, with the publication of my first book, Under the Wild Ginger; my publisher told me I had to put myself out there and promote, if not actual sales, at least a point of view that would attract like-minded readers. To that extent, the venture has borne fruit. I’ve also made some wonderful friends, folks I’ve come to feel close to even though we’ve never met.

            Blaming the medium for its abuse 
            is a pretty poor excuse.

But cyberspace is a wily seductress. At first, the allure was like the one I felt as a boy when, no longer fooled by that old tin-cans-and-string ruse, I dreamed of having a real walkie-talkie. Or later when I’d spend hours with my ear pressed against the speaker of our tabletop Emerson radio, fine-tuning among the stronger signals and static for distant stations. This communicating beyond the range of my own, unelaborated ear and voice struck me as nothing short of mystical.

There’s a certain boundless freedom in sending and receiving messages over untold expanses, across geographic, political and cultural boundaries. And doing so practically instantaneously only adds to the allure. I experience something like that kind of freedom during my favorite, recurring dream: flying (on my own power, without any device). It feels like the very essence of spiritual connection, a magical oneness with time and space and all of creation—not to mention that it strikes awe and envy into every onlooker.

VIRTUAL WALLS
Well, blaming the medium for its abuse is a pretty poor excuse. What brought this line of reflection to the fore was our last month-long stay last spring in a lovely seaside town in Guerrero Mexico. There, the nice little TV in our villa never once blinked on. Sure, we spent time on our devices most days, keeping in touch with loved ones, sharing a few photos. But those times were quite limited. And, though our minds may have been in cyberspace now and then, physically we were still in direct contact with Nature during all our waking hours.

Even inside our villa, where there’s no wall separating us from the view over the bay, delicious warm breezes waft in day and night, carrying the sounds and smells of the neighborhood and the Pacific Ocean beyond. Critters—butterflies, geckos, bats and the occasional scorpion become our benign companions. Our relationships with our Mexican friends seldom abide the quick phone call, email, or—God forbid—the terse-but-tedious text. No, folks there take the time to come calling, to spend a few minutes exchanging pleasantries and just being…well...nice.

         It’s not really the physical walls that 
         hold me back. It’s the virtual ones.

How quickly we get inured to such wonders; by the end of our stay, we were already taking this sustained communion with Nature, including these unhurried relationships with people, for granted. But now, with the singular clarity of hindsight, I know why this month in the tropics was so restorative in so many ways. It was exactly what I’ve been losing, bit by bit, in my life here in the “real” world: the close presence of Nature in my life every day. Paying attention, not just to a little screen, but to the countless real small wonders playing out around me all the time.

No matter what one might see or learn, or even feel, on that little screen, when you get right down to it, does it ever really take you any further than arm’s length out of yourself? But with real wonders, Nature’s wonders, there are no limits. For me, they range from those little “floaters” that punctuate my vision from the inside, to whatever horizon the weather defines that day, to the stars on a clear night, to the still-further reach of my imagination.

Now, I realize it might prove impractical here in Minnesota to remove one side of our urban townhouse and let in the air, light (and mosquitoes). And winter…well, don’t get me started! But I’m thinking it’s not really the physical walls that hold me back. It’s the virtual ones. I’ve been allowing others—content developers, marketers, fellow addicts…whomever—to limit what I can experience, to steer the direction and extent of my vision.

This is not what I want. Is it what you want? Don’t we have our own vision, an outlook which belongs to no one but us? Shouldn’t we be the ones deciding what will surprise and delight us, who will become our next good friend?

         ...we stop imposing our will on Nature 
         and life, and vest in them the power to 
         have their way with us.

MAKING TIME FOR THE CURE
Now that summer’s starting to yield to fall, I aim to reclaim my birthright—the birthright of every human being—my connection, my belonging, to Nature. And the way to start is to, as I like to put it, get off the screen and into the scene. Like surmounting any bad habit, this will require being thoughtful and deliberate—disciplined—in how I spend my time.

What makes it hard is that I have to make time for the cure before I can recover the time spent on the disease. For example, if I’m to take a walk every morning, I’ll have to let go of the time I’m wasting on television or the Internet the night before. Or I may have to re-prioritize the short list of friends I correspond with most often, making room for Nature on that list.

And I most certainly will have to reclaim my point of view. I must remember to practice what I preach, using all my senses, not just taking in the wisdom and beauty of Nature, but giving something to the transaction too. I call it seeing generously.  It’s a mindset in which we stop imposing our will and way on Nature and life, and vest in them the power to have their way with us.

That is what we do in the relentless, blast-furnace Mexican sun when we stop every few minutes to rest in familiar pools of shade. It’s what we do when we think we’re going to the park for an hour and end up spending the day. And when we allow ourselves to be moved deeply by even the smallest droplet of beauty shed on us from Nature’s infinite sea of wonder.

These are real connections, ones we can touch and feel, ones that sustain us—physically, emotionally, spiritually. They are to be trusted completely, for they are not only for us; they are of us. It is one thing to recognize the difference between the real and the virtual; it is another entirely to choose the real.

I choose the real.

INTENTIONAL GROUNDING – Making Room for Wonder

The world has changed considerably for most humans since we roamed the woods and prairies, and every day was a struggle for survival. These days, for most of us anyway, life’s pretty easy, pretty safe. We’ve had the luxuries of both time and opportunity to change our view of Nature from one that was mainly reactive to one that’s more intentional.

Intentional observation is what this blog—in fact, my book and most of my writing—is all about. Seeing and appreciating not just Nature’s superlatives—the Everests, the Grand Canyons, the cheetahs and tsunamis—but also the other stuff, the small, the subtle, the unexpectedly elegant things that surround us all the time. So if such wonder is all around us, why is it apparently so elusive for some people?

NUMBED & DUMBED

Intentionality’s not easy. Initiating is harder than reacting. Creating is harder than consuming. People seem to get lulled into a sort of “on demand” way of looking at the world. Whatever’s the biggest, loudest, brightest or fastest steals their attention, their initiative. I suppose this is understandable.

After all, it’s deeply engrained in us to notice things that can excite or threaten us; that’s how we and most other creatures have managed to survive. But we’ve allowed this tendency to be exploited for commercial—and, some might say, political—gain. Too many of us have given in to the brainwashing and find ourselves paying heed to stuff we know doesn’t really matter.

Too many of us have given in to the brainwashing...paying heed to stuff 

we know doesn’t really matter.

We get so distracted by the trivial that we miss the profound. We spend so much time indulging our fears that we fail to nurture our hopes. We do things not because we’re drawn to them, but simply not to be outdone. It all seems like a battle for our intentionality and, along with it, our sense of wonder—and I’m afraid we’re losing.

The media’s played a disappointing role in all of this. It’s numbed us and dumbed us. It touts everything and everyone as the ultimate, leaving no place for the simply beautiful, the average—in other words, the real. It’s got people, as if on cue, emoting and exaggerating their movements the moment they realize they’re on camera—which seems to be nearly all the time.

How’s there room in that sensibility for silence, for thoughtfulness, for reverence? And, when the media would have us valuing everything by how little time it takes, what does that say about things whose awesomeness is their very slowness and certainty?

AN INTENTIONALITY REVOLUTION

Are we being lulled back into a culture more of reaction than intention? Is it all, as some would have us believe, about conflict, about winners and losers? Would we really rather react to what someone else says and use it to demonize him, than to come up with our own ideas and then advocate for them civilly?

What we need is an intentionality revolution. Let’s take back our sense of responsibility for what we do and think.

When someone sticks a video camera in your 

face, act like yourself, not a character in 

someone else’s play.

• Do things because you want to do them, not because you feel guilty or obligated, or because someone might think you have nothing better to do. Decide what’s most important to you and then do it. 
• When someone sticks a video camera in your face, act like yourself, not a character in someone else’s play.
• Find one or two sources of news you respect and trust, sources that are long on content and balance, short on sensationalism. Sure, you can consume other news media if you find it entertaining, but realize that’s all it is – entertainment.
• Don’t wait for others to set the agenda. Take a few moments to figure out what you want, and then start making plans to do it.
• Respect your own plans; you’re entitled to have an agenda. In fact, perhaps even more importantly, even if you don’t have one, you’re entitled to that too.
• If you find yourself always doing what a certain friend wants to do, make sure you get to choose next time. If that doesn’t work, maybe that person’s not as good a friend as you thought.

IN YOUR NATURE

When you’re in Nature, expect to experience fascination and wonder. But realize that, when Nature invites us to notice, she often does so very quietly. Here, there are no sound bites or zingers. If you’re to hear the invitation above the din of other voices in your head and heart, turn them down…no, turn them off!

Even once you’ve made room for them in your consciousness, the many wonders life and Nature hold for us aren’t always readily apparent. (If they were more apparent, they wouldn’t be wonders, would they?) And finding wonder is often as much about the process of discovering something as it is about the discovery itself.

In fact, Nature’s little miracles seldom happen without your doing something—turning something over, looking from a different angle, or just deciding it’s worth waiting and watching for something to happen.

Don’t just use your eyes. Touch everything you can without hurting it; listen to it; what the heck, why not smell it. Notice where everyone else is looking…and look the other way. If you’re at a concert or sports event, look at the faces of the people behind you. (This can be especially rewarding at kids’ music recitals or individual sports events; see if you can pick out the parents of the kid performing.)

This takes no skill at all; everything we need 

we already have.

When everyone’s listening to something, try filtering out the obvious and listening for some of the softer sounds always at play in the background. If it’s music, see if you can distinguish the sounds of the orchestra’s sections or of individual instruments. (I must admit it, when I listen to music at home or at work, it’s hard for me to give it my complete attention; I’m as likely to be appreciating the accompaniment of a bird singing just outside the window.)

The intentionality revolution is about reclaiming our God-given instincts. Despite our culture of excess, despite all the competing demands on our lives, despite the coordinated assault of the dumbed-down media and pop culture, we can still learn—or should I say re-learn—how to be fully present with Nature.

And, believe it or not, this takes no skill at all; everything we need we already have. Curiosity, wonder, hope, humility and the sense of play still come as standard equipment when we’re born. All we have to do is dig them out and give them some air.

SEE LIKE A 5-YEAR-OLD - Take the Pledge!

YEARNING FOR SUBSTANCE
In this increasingly sped-up, dumbed-down, 140-character world, are you starting to hear, as I am, that little voice of unease from somewhere deep in your soul?

Doesn't some part of you just want to say no to all that virtual "reality," all the quick, shallow relationships this digitized culture expects us to buy into, and get back in touch with more real-life, first-hand experiences? Don't you yearn to recapture that sense of wonder we all felt so naturally when we were kids?

Use the ideas as goals, resolutions, or just occasional affirmations of your intention to live      a more attentive, curious and grateful life.

That's what my Reclaiming Wonder Movement is all about. It's recognizing that yearning, and beginning to make our own choices as to the kind of depth and substance we want in our relationships with ourselves, each other and Nature.

THE RECLAIMING WONDER PLEDGE
The movement can start philosophically and leads, most likely, to lifestyle changes, but it's inevitably a spiritual journey. Lots of people want to take part in this journey, but don't quite know where to start. That's why I've crafted the Reclaiming Wonder Pledge.

Think of it as a list of first steps and/or mileposts to guide you on your quest for more mindfulness. You can use the ideas as goals, resolutions, or just occasional affirmations of your intention to live a more attentive, curious and grateful life.  
You • can • do • this!!

Framing example only; frame not included in offer.

 
ORDER YOUR FREE, FRAMEABLE, FULL-COLOR 
PLEDGE DOCUMENT WITH ONE CLICK!
Use the peach-colored order form to the right just below the "POPULAR POSTS" listing and above "FOLLOWERS." ––>
Print it out, frame it, or make it the background of your computer desktop. Give a framed copy to someone you know who's also yearning to reclaim wonder in his/her life.
Thanks for taking the Reclaiming Wonder Pledge! Have a wonder-full day!

RECLAIM WONDER IN YOUR LIFE – Take the Pledge!

YEARNING FOR SUBSTANCE
In this increasingly sped-up, dumbed-down, 140-character world, are you starting to hear, as I am, that little voice of unease from somewhere deep in your soul?

Doesn't some part of you just want to say no to all that virtual "reality," all the quick, shallow relationships this digitized culture expects us to buy into, and get back in touch with more real-life, first-hand experiences? Don't you yearn to recapture that sense of wonder we all felt so naturally when we were kids?

Use the ideas as goals, resolutions, or just occasional affirmations of your intention to live      a more attentive, curious and grateful life.

That's what my Reclaiming Wonder Movement is all about. It's recognizing that yearning, and beginning to make our own choices as to the kind of depth and substance we want in our relationships with ourselves, each other and Nature.

THE RECLAIMING WONDER PLEDGE
The movement can start philosophically and leads, most likely, to lifestyle changes, but it's inevitably a spiritual journey. Lots of people want to take part in this journey, but don't quite know where to start. That's why I've crafted the Reclaiming Wonder Pledge.

Think of it as a list of first steps and/or mileposts to guide you on your quest for more mindfulness. You can use the ideas as goals, resolutions, or just occasional affirmations of your intention to live a more attentive, curious and grateful life.  
You • can • do • this!!

Framing example only; frame not included in offer.

 
ORDER YOUR FREE, FRAMEABLE, FULL-COLOR 
PLEDGE DOCUMENT WITH ONE CLICK!
Use the peach-colored order form to the right just below the "Popular Posts" listing. ->
Print it out, frame it, or make it the background of your computer desktop. Give a framed copy to someone you know who's also yearning to reclaim wonder in his/her life.
Thanks for taking the Reclaiming Wonder Pledge! Have a wonder-full day!

NATURAL FORCES - My Weekend "Off"

A blogger's work is never done—or so I've often thought this first year, while posting something new more or less every third day.

But one's priorities have a way of changing when certain natural forces come into play—forces like grandchildren and hurricanes.

Here I am in Boston, enjoying the fifth birthday celebration of my granddaughter and the christening of my one-and-a-half-year-old grandson. The party—planned as a back-yard cookout—took place yesterday, despite one hefty party crasher: hurricane Irene.

One's priorities have a way of changing when certain natural forces come into play—forces like grandchildren and hurricanes. 

The increasing downpours couldn't dampen spirits, since most of the kids' activities involved water anyway. Still, we had to move the picnic part indoors, and that was a little tight, especially with the tropical stillness of the air. Bottom line: the birthday girl seemed to have a wonderful time! Others, even if they didn't have fun, will still remember the day they had the cookout as a hurricane bore down on them.

Today was supposed to be the christening, but this time Irene wasn't going to be denied. Winds are gusting to over 60 miles per hour. Thousands of trees are down, including one that fell right across the back yard here—right where we were all playing yesterday at this time.

Given the theme of One Man's Wonder, maybe we could call it research.

Nearly a quarter million homes are now without power in Massachusetts. And the powers-that-be in the local Congregational church have declared all "business" closed for the day. So we'll try again for tomorrow morning. Looks like Irene will be petering out somewhere over Quebec by then, so we should be okay for the second big event of the weekend.

So, you see, I have a couple of perfectly good excuses for missing my self-imposed deadline of yesterday for a new post. To those of you who may have been counting on something profound, I hope you'll accept this hastily prepared excuse.

Believe me, I haven't just been goofing off. Between spending time with my wonderful, beloved grand-kids, pitching in to help with the party, and marveling at the power of a small hurricane, I've had my hands full.

Come to think of it, given the theme of One Man's Wonder, maybe we could call it research.