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.

HEAL! – How Dogs Cure Us

Nature is in every human animal’s DNA. It made us, sustains us and comprises us, body and soul.

No matter how much we may try to control or deny it, no matter how we presume to virtualize it, no matter how we smother it in busy-ness, we can’t escape it. Wherever we live, even if it’s a place where signs of life are few, our essential belonging to Nature is hard-wired into us. And at some level, whether we realize it or not, we all deeply long to embrace it—to bring it home.

This is why human beings have dogs. (Okay, I know dogs aren’t the only animals folks keep as pets, but what can I say? I’m a dog person.)

That reminds me of a joke: Know the difference between dogs and cats? Dog looks up at its person and thinks, My gosh, he pets me, feeds me, talks to me, gives me everything I could possibly need...he must be God.

Cat looks up at its person and thinks, Well let’s see, she pets me, feeds me, talks to me, gives me everything I could possibly need…I must be God.

ALL PHOTOS, UNLESS OTHERWISE CREDITED: Pixabay

FROM PRACTICAL TO PRECIOUS  

PHOTO: Mario Sanchez via WikiMedia

From the ancient Egyptian grain trader relying on his cats—while also deifying them—to control vermin; to the medieval lord and his falcon, or the modern hunter or rancher trying to make sense of both loving animals and slaughtering them, our domestication of wild animals is as old as we are.

While most of these creatures, including dogs, were originally tamed to work for us, there are, as it turns out, other reasons we’re so fond of having pets; the blurring of the line between expediency and those other less practical benefits dates back at least 12,000 years.

Here are just a few of the reasons why we cynophiles want—and need—dogs in our lives:

Companionship – No matter how perfect we might feel our connection is with another human being, personal relationships are hard. We try to be good mates, but we always end up hurting and disappointing each other. We see our own short- 
comings reflected in them.
     But with a dog there's no guile, no misplaced expectation. They are what they are…and they love us for exactly who we are. In fact, we see in them many of the traits we wish we possessed.

    I sometimes wonder if dogs don’t feel sorry 
    for how we’ve forfeited our own child-puppy 
    spontaneity.

A Need to Nurture – Most humans, it seems, are so independent, so self-sufficient, that we won’t admit to wanting—much less needing—anyone to take care of us. But we all need to nurture.
     Sure, we do it instinctively with children and perhaps the aged, but what about after the nest is empty once again; what about for those who no longer have—or have never had—someone to take care of? Two words: bow and wow.

PHOTO: fortheloveofthedogblog.com

Entertainment – Dogs make us laugh…and cry…and sing and dance… We just love to watch them. People are fascinating to watch too, but dogs are way more fun. It touches more than our funny bone; it touches a place that yearns to be that spontaneous, that genuine, that free.
     And I sometimes wonder if dogs don’t enjoy watching us too—maybe just to see our reaction to them…or perhaps feel sorry for us grown-ups having forfeited our own child-puppy spontaneity.

Exercise – You’ve heard dog owners say they’re not sure who’s taking whom for the walk, right? Well it’s true. We need dogs to get us off our big fat butts and thin little screens and out of the house.
     By the way, these folks we see now and then being hauled passively around on their bikes or skateboards by the slave labor of their poor crazed, panting pups…they just don’t get it.

     We have allowed our awareness to be steeped 
     out of us by a culture that can no longer dis- 
     tinguish reality from entertainment. Dogs, 
     thank God, can still tell the difference!

Role Modeling – We find much to admire in our dogs: their generous spirits and modest needs; their unbridled enthusiasm; their obvious empathy when we’re sad or hurting; their fierce loyalty; their ability to thoroughly inhabit the simplest moment.
     And then there’s the way they handle adversity. A dog doesn’t blame anyone if it gets sick or hurt, doesn’t feel sorry for itself when it loses an eye or a leg. Hell, most wouldn’t even blame their owner for abusing them. My wife and I call this “just doing,” and often notice how it educates our own dealings with life’s hard knocks.

PHOTO: John Hurd via WikiMedia Commons

Awareness – It seems more and more people are so captivated by their own mostly-inane thoughts—or, perhaps more aptly nowadays, their iPhones or iPads—that they don’t have a clue what’s really going on, often right in front of their noses…until their dogs show them.
     We humans have rather easily allowed our awareness, our attention spans, to be steeped out of us by a culture that can no longer distinguish reality from entertainment. Dogs, thank God, can still tell the difference! 

Social Lubrication – When it comes to ways of meeting and interacting with other human beings, we’ve all heard the tried-and-true tricks: sign up for a community ed. class; volunteer; hang out in the produce aisle at the supermarket and ask folks how to tell when a cantaloupe is ripe.
     But the best way, hands down, whether you’re a young single person prospecting for dates, a lonely elder or just someone who loves other people, is to walk down the street or through the park with a dog—puppies are most effective. The way I figure, anyone who doesn’t love stopping to pet your dog isn’t worth meeting anyway.

PHOTO: dailypuppy.com

Centering – I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that dogs have a spiritual presence. Like sunshine on our skin or the smell of food, the presence of dogs causes things to happen in our bodies and minds. Something opens up; a hardness inside softens and melts. The toughest character—even, they say, a hardened criminal—turns into a cooing, caressing softie in the presence of a pooch.

Have you ever seen the face of a hospitalized child or a dementia patient light up when that sweet chord of connection with a dog is struck? What is this chemistry, and why is it so powerful that I feel it change me even when I just look at a picture of a dog?

Healing – Pet dogs don’t just take us outdoors, don’t just show us how to be healthy and whole; they impart genuine healing energy to our bodies and spirits. Scientific studies have shown, for example, that petting a dog lowers people’s heart rates and blood pressures.
Therapy dogs provided through a number of treatment programs—for Alzheimers, autism, PTSD, hospice, and many others—are well recognized for providing obvious, measurable healing.

So how do dogs—yours, or perhaps those you only covet—make you feel? 
What do you most admire about them? How do they make your life better? How have they changed you?

We fellow, fawning cynophiles out here would love to hear from you!!

COMING TO OUR SENSES – How to Free Your Inner Child

What incredible contraptions we humans are. Our bodies make even the most complex machine we’ve ever devised look like a child’s toy. They’re an astounding integration of systems, each a marvel in itself—musculoskeletal, circulatory, pulmonary, digestive and immune, among others.

Perhaps the most amazing of all is the nervous system. Sight, hearing, touch, taste and smell are the receptors we use to sense the world around us. They afford our brains the reach they need to collect data about the conditions and resources we need to survive.

They tell us when danger is present, compel us to satisfy our hunger and thirst, and let us communicate. Should one sense fall short of the job, the system calls in reinforcements from the others. Our senses nourish us with learning, recreation and spiritual connection. And they indulge us with pleasure. 

As blessed as most of us are to have all our senses, too many of us under-appreciate and under-use them. Life’s tough for a sense. First of all, since few of us any longer depend solely on our raw, native senses for survival, they’ve gotten soft and bloated. What’s left of them gets harried, waylaid and drowned out by all the demands—and perceived demands—of life in the 21st century.

  Curiosity does for our perception what a strong 
  sense of self does for our health and well-being.

SHAPING UP
But we can rescue our poor senses. It’s not hard to do, but it takes some re-prioritizing and a bit of practice. Just like when we’ve failed to properly feed and exercise our bodies for a while, we must assert some discipline to get back in shape.

No, you can’t just sit on the couch or at your desk all day; no, as hungry as you might be for it, you can’t pig out on the tempting, but far-from-nutritious virtual experience and “connection” heaped on your plate by a phone or iPad screen.

Reclaiming our native senses also requires the recruitment of an ally, a quality no less deserving than intuition of status as our “sixth sense.” Curiosity is the impulse that fuels the senses. It does for our perception what a strong sense of self does for our health and wellbeing.

We’re all born with curiosity—lots of it. As far as we know, we’re the only creatures with the luxury of possessing it for reasons not immediately related to survival. Other animals may track a smell, follow a sound or turn over a rock to see if there might be something to eat. We get to do so just for the joy of discovery, just for the fun of it.

Turn off all the little i-robots conspiring to keep you in your seat under their all-consuming spell.

FREEING YOUR INNER CHILD
So, how do you start? Just ten or fifteen years ago, I would have said just observe a five-year-old child. Sadly, though, children, even more so than we adults, have been abducted by the fat, lazy aspects of technology.

So perhaps the best way to picture success is to remember what childhood was like for you. No phone; no laptop; no 24/7 news scaring you into believing conflict and danger are ever-present in your life; no über-litigious legal system instilling fear into anyone daring to let kids experience spontaneous, parent-free, outdoor adventures.

Try to channel that spontaneity and freedom. Feel the rekindling of that old inner fire of energy, awareness and curiosity. Meditate, in whatever way you like, to rise above the myriad “adult” concerns holding those native instincts back.

Turn off all the little i-robots conspiring to keep you in your seat under their all-consuming spell. And get outside in Nature, whether that means in a remote wilderness, a national park or just that little patch of grass down the street, and let her draw out your senses as only she can.

         What’s so hard about it is actually 
         that it’s so utterly simple.

OUT OF CONTROL
And finally—this is the bitterest pill for many folks—let go the illusion of control that’s come to delude nearly every one of us trying to cope in what seems an ever-more-out-of-control world. Surrender your senses and your spirit to the ever-wise, all-knowing oneness of the universe. For it knows, even if you do not, where peace and wisdom reside.

Many find it hard to grasp this exercise in faith, because somehow it’s gotten confused with something complex and abstract. Some would have you believe that we have to go on long, arduous quests for it. We think we have to pay people to guide us to it; we take all sorts of elixirs to bring it on.

But what’s so hard about it is actually that it’s so utterly simple, and—perhaps the biggest obstacle to our sensing like kids once again—we’ve gotten conditioned not to trust that simplicity.

We must re-learn it, for the sake of our own health and happiness, for that of our children and grandchildren, and for that of this precious, vulnerable planet.

SECOND CHANCE FOR A MIGHT-HAVE-BEEN

A couple of days ago I was taking my early evening walk along Minneapolis’s beautiful East River Parkway. Half a block ahead, in front of the Shriners Hospital (for children with severe muscle, bone and joint conditions) I noticed a young family sitting on a bench near the sidewalk—a pair of pretty down-and-out-looking parents and a seven- or eight-year-old boy in a wheelchair, one leg heavily splinted and jutting out in front of him.

Just then, I was passing a lovely Japanese lilac bush in full, fragrant bloom. On a whim, I stopped, reached in and broke off a single stem.

Thirty seconds later, I’d passed the family, said nothing and still pinched the lilac spray between my thumb and forefinger. It seemed to wilt as I looked down at it. I’d let my chance pass me by, a chance to hand the boy the flower, wish the family well and maybe brighten the day for all of us. I spent the rest of the evening pondering why.

The reasons—involving, I suppose, body language, lack of eye contact and perhaps a bit of shyness—made sense, but, in the end, they were far from relevant enough to salve my regret.

One just doesn't get chances like that again.

     He lifted it to his nose and, as if the sweet 
     scent had just inflated his cheeks, beamed.

Yesterday I took the same walk again. I wondered what the chances were of seeing the same family again. This time, though, there was no one at the bench. So I’m not sure why I once again stopped at the lilac bush and cut another spray; I didn’t give it much thought.

As I passed the bench, I couldn’t see a soul anywhere on the hospital’s sweeping lawn. I wondered about the boy, how he was doing today, and whether he’d be able to live a normal life. Just then, as if materializing out of my very thoughts, the family appeared from behind some trees, turned onto the sidewalk and headed toward me.

What a gift!, I thought. How often does one get a second chance at doing something spontaneous? Had my thoughts—or perhaps my instinctive cutting of another flower—somehow caused these folks to appear out of nowhere?

This time I wasn’t going to let the moment escape me. “Hello…lovely evening, isn’t it?” I said to them all. Then I bent over and looked down at the boy. I tried to imagine what his life has been like dealing with whatever had brought them to Shriners; I pictured him soon laughing and running with his friends.

My words were, I’m afraid, far less articulate than my thoughts. “Hi. How are you?” He turned a slightly wary expression my way, a drop of his Coke lingering in one corner of his mouth. “Good,” he replied flatly. I smiled and handed the lilac to him. He lifted it to his nose and, as if the sweet scent had just inflated his cheeks, beamed. 

Lacking the right words no longer seemed to matter; our exchange had been most articulate, most complete, without them. And I was grateful, not just for the fates bringing us together, but for their having done it twice.

I still don’t know how the boy and his parents suddenly appeared out of nowhere, but I’d like to think it was preordained, yet another lesson in how the simplest bud of impulse, when honored with one’s full intention and presence, can blossom.

FIELD OF INTENTION – Doorways to Destiny

Mindfulness...wakes us up to the fact that our lives unfold only in moments. If we are not fully present for many of those moments, we may not only miss what is most valuable in our lives but also fail to realize the richness and the depth of our possibilities for growth, and transformation. ~  From Wherever You Go, There You Are by JON KABAT-ZINN

So many of the truly memorable experiences in our lives occur accidentally. Sure, we can make plans for a project or a trip—or a lifetime for that matter—but isn’t it the delays, the unintentional side trips, the unexpected encounters that make the deepest impressions? Now I have nothing against planning—in fact, I’m a bit of a control freak myself—but, frankly, far more interesting stuff has happened in my life by coincidence than by intention.

ACCIDENTALLY ON PURPOSE
It may sound strange, but I don’t think coincidence necessarily happens all by itself. Haven’t you known people who seem to live charmed lives, for whom everything always just seems to fall into place? You know, the proverbial golden boy or golden girl? Is there something about them that influences that roll of the dice the rest of us depend on for our fortunes?

James Redfield, author of The Celestine Prophecy, sheds some light on this phenomenon:

For centuries, religious scriptures, poems, and philosophies have pointed to a latent power of mind within all of us that mysteriously helps to affect what occurs in the future. It has been called faith power, positive thinking, and the power of prayer. We are now taking this power seriously enough to bring a fuller knowledge of it into public awareness. We are finding that (it) is a field of intention, which moves out from us and can be extended and strengthened, especially when we connect with others in a common vision.

OPEN HEARTS, OPEN DOORS
Redfield refers to coincidence as the opening of a door. He says that, when we're at our best—operating from our most secure, creative, aware inner core—we give off a sort of cosmic aura that everyone and everything responds to, and that this causes possibilities to open spontaneously for us.

For example, at times when he’s been searching for something (an idea, an inspiration, a helping angel), often, he says, that very thing has miraculously presented itself to him, without his having taken any conscious action to find it.

It may sound strange, but I don’t think coincidence necessarily happens all by itself.

ILLUSTRATION: Katy Farina

This kind of magic can occur for us at any time. I experience it most often when I’m in Nature, but it can also happen in our travels, while we’re at work, even in our relationships. The key is our willingness to deviate from the script and surrender to impulse.

For some people this is easier said than done, but when you come right down to it, it takes only two things: curiosity and faith. For it’s only when we’re curious that we notice those little doors of opportunity that open for us; and only faith tells us it’s okay to venture through them.

Occasionally the rewards of such spontaneity are small ones, modest gifts like surprise or delight. And then there are occasions—more than you might realize—when one surprise leads to another, and that to yet another and, eventually, you look back and say that was life-changing. Life’s complicated, so it’s not always easy to trace such a series of events back to that opening of the original, serendipitous “door,” but I can think of a few that have proven life-changing for me. Do any come to mind for you?

You’ll see them in the movement of a twig, the 
waft of a new smell, or in any of a thousand 
little questions that invite themselves into your consciousness.

HALF OPEN OR HALF CLOSED?
What coincidences have changed your life? Will your eyes, your ears, your heart and, perhaps most importantly, some sixth sense be aware of the next door that opens for you? It may appear in as obvious a form as an invitation to try something new, like a job, a volunteer position or a hobby.

Or it might be just a shift in your usual routine or a new acquaintance in your life. Sometimes it’s something even subtler, like that little voice we keep hearing from some corner of our consciousness urging us to do or say something.

Remember, opportunities sometimes come to us disguised as defeats, like getting laid off or divorced. How you perceive such setbacks depends, in part, on the lens through which you view them. If the doorwa seems mostly closed, try to keep your focus on the fact that it’s also partially open.

Even if the door appears to be swinging shut, sometimes that little pulse of positive energy is all it takes is to reverse its direction and change the sequence of events. From perception to belief; from belief to action; from action to reality.

Of course, there’s a parallel to all of this in our relationship with Nature. The opportunities, the doorways, are everywhere. You’ll see them in the movement of a twig, the waft of a new smell, or in any of a thousand little questions that invite themselves into your consciousness.

All it takes to see the sliver of light shining through is your surrender of mind and spirit. As I’ve said so many times, you cannot make it happen. You must let it happen. There's a big difference.