MAKE IT GREAT!

 “When I think something nice is going to happen

I seem to fly right up on the wings of anticipation;

and then the first thing I realize

I drop down to earth with a thud.

…the flying part is glorious as long as it lasts...

it's like soaring through a sunset.

I think it almost pays for the thud.”

~L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Avonlea

Moose Tracks (c) 2010; Melissa Johnson.

I once saw a documentary on the mating rituals of Moose. Fascinating and a bit disappointing, really, for reasons you'll soon understand.

There’s such hullabaloo in the ritual.  Come autumn, as if on cue, the bull moose begins to shed the soft velvet on his antlers.  “Shed first, mate first” might well be their motto, and the mature males usually go first, kicking off the rutting season by thrashing antlers about in the brush.  This alerts nearby cow moose (hey, ladies!) and other bulls that the game is on, confirming their prime status and challenging nearby bulls to a little stiff (ahem!) competition.

The bull then digs a hole (a few inches deep and a couple of feet wide)—his rutting pit of love—into which he urinates and then splashes around to cover his head and antlers and whatever else he can soak in his smell.  Strangely, this robust smell triggers ovulation in a nearby cow, which sends her into heat.  

Other bulls close-by respond to her smell and his call, fighting and knocking antlers and pushing each other around as they pound their moose chests, challenging each other for the chance to breed with the cow.  The cows are just sort of hanging out waiting to be chosen before their “time” runs out.  This process takes days (and about 25 minutes of a 30 minute documentary) to sort itself out. Then, finally, the superior bull makes his move . . .

It’s fairly anti-climaxic after that (pun intended), for the actual sex act between them takes just seconds to consummate.  Prime bulls may mate up to six times in the one-month season and, if my memory serves me correctly, I think the statistic was something like a whopping 90% of cows get pregnant on the first go in healthy moose populations!  Shortly thereafter, the bulls lose interest in the cows and the mamas basically raise their babies alone.  The end.  And just like that, the documentary was over.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the obvious comparison.  Okay, so moose mating rituals and the human experience are entirely different things, but in a similar way do we not build-up—even dramatize—the major events and relationships in our lives, planning each detail in our fascinating minds, plotting each move; soaring high with anticipation about how wonderful and great it’s all going to be when “it” goes down?  Only later to discover that the actual event was nowhere near as exciting as the road we took to arrive there. 

Apparently this sort of event anticipation is quite common among us two-leggeds.  Take vacations, for example.  A study conducted by researchers in the Netherlands (reported in the journal Applied Research in Quality of Life) found that the simple act of planning a vacation boosted individuals’ happiness quotient for eight weeks compared to the more baseline levels of happiness (or stress) that the same folks reported upon returning from the vacation.  (To read more, check out the NY Times article “How Vacations Affect Your Happiness”, published February 18, 2010, www.NYTimes.com.) 

Among other things, this study illustrates in simple terms the impact of excitement and anticipation on our happiness and overall sense of wellbeing.  Whether we’re planning a vacation, plotting a career change, making preparations for a wedding, dreaming of climbing that mountain or whatever other thing we can conjure in our minds, we’re wise to slow down and savor the delicious anticipation and excitement along the way.  

Indeed, it’s not just about the outcome but the journey itself.  Make it great!

What Are We So Afraid Of?

Fear is the cheapest room in the house.

I would like to see you living in better conditions.

~ Hafiz

Along Came A Spider.

A few weeks ago while working my volunteer shift at Children’s Hospital Colorado, I received a special request to sit with a little girl in one of the  9th floor rooms.  Her parents were working and couldn’t be there; she had been alone for most of the day.

From the minute I sat down in that rocking chair, she curled her little body into mine and looked up at me with those big eyes that seemed to say, “what now?”  I suppose it didn’t matter because she already had what she most wanted in that moment—human touch can heal in ways that medicine can’t—and so I searched my repertoire for anything that might entertain and amuse.

I sang a few songs (amusing); recited some limericks (entertaining), and then I came upon Little Miss Muffet floating around up there in my memory bank.  Remember that old nursery rhyme?

Little Miss Muffet

Sat on a tuffet,

Eating her curds and whey;

Along came a spider,

Who sat down beside her

And frightened Miss Muffet away

~ Songs for the Nursery (1805)

I’ve known this rhyme for years, but as the words formed on my lips, for the first time, I thought about the implications.  The spider merely sat down beside her and it frightened her away.  Really?  Arachnophobia aside, are we that easily scared of possibility? 

It made me think about the way we all carry fear in our hearts of some kind--real or imagined--for things that may never come to pass, yet in everyday ways we let those fears direct our course.   Like when we withhold our opinions for fear of rocking the boat; or stick with something or someone that may not be best for our lives because we’re afraid of change; or when we choose not to try something new because we might not like it.  But what if we loved it?  What if it changed our lives in amazing and unforeseen ways?  What if that spider became Miss Muffet’s best friend and side-kick?

I once read that lurking behind every fear is an all-pervasive thought of “I can’t handle it.”  Yet we’re so much stronger than we think--we CAN handle it--and sometimes by facing into our fears instead of running from them or avoiding, we learn more about ourselves and what we’re capable of doing, creating, becoming.

What are we so afraid of? 

WHAT'S THE MATTER?

Energy impacts us at all times,

and the frequency at which that energy moves

determines our physical, mental and spiritual health. . .

Why would you give your precious life energy . . . 

to something you [don’t] want?

~Dr. Wayne Dyer

"Harmonized"

(photo of original artwork) 

As a young attorney starting life in a new town on the coast of Florida, I joined a leadership program sponsored by the local Chamber of Commerce.  We had to commit ourselves to a year of exploring the nuances of business and industry in our two-county region—once a month devoting a day to visit a local business, manufacturing facility, the school system, the community hospital, a military base where we prepared to deploy as local troops would, exploring area tourist destinations, checking out delicious restaurants—all in an effort to better understand the nature and energy of the place we all called “home.” 

Our first exercise was to attend a SIM-SOC Retreat, where we lived for a weekend in a simulated society. Upon entering the SIM-SOC, each participant was assigned a new name, occupation, political and religious affiliation, family and marital status, educational background, a predetermined set of goals, problems and issues to resolve, and a fake bank account, together with some “cash” in the form of twisty-ties—the kind you tie-up trash bags with—representing our communal currency. 

Some of the participants, to their dismay, were assigned the lives of homeless people and, while everyone else had moderate or posh hotel rooms to call “home”—some sharing rooms with other participants (depending on their financial status)—the homeless folks had to hang out in the makeshift homeless shelter (a large conference room with only cots to sleep on).  We had no contact with the outside world. 

As simple as it sounds, this SIM-SOC experiment led to one of my greatest Aha!  moments as I witnessed the value, power and “energy” that we give to things.  What makes the almighty dollar (or twenty) so mighty?  Money can’t cleanse your soul or fundamentally change the nature of who we are.  I suppose it can solve problems in its own way.  But inherently, it is neither good nor evil, only that we make it so.  We energize it with our thoughts and actions.  So guess what happened when our “currency” changed to trash-bag-twisty-ties within the borders of our simulated society?  The twisty-tie became that mighty thing to give or be gotten, breeding the exact same kind of power struggles, control, greed, infighting, thievery, sharing and great acts of compassion that exactly mirror real life.

Yet EVERYTHING is energy—living, dynamic matter. Even the smallest subatomic particles are engaged in a constant process of exchange with other particles in a never-ending flow of energy, vibrating at different frequencies—light and fast moving particles producing sound and light—and slower, denser energy manifesting as the solid structures we see in the physical world.  Yet when examined under a high-powered microscope even these seemingly solid structures reveal themselves to be clusters of highly active particles, dancing and vibrating at varying speeds, dynamic in nature and part of larger organic energy patterns—reflecting order, not chaos as we might assume. 

This reminds me of a human interest story from several years back telling of the extraordinary sensory gift of Ben Underwood, a young man who lost both of his eyes to cancer at the age of two but then later discovered that he could see the world by clicking his tongue.  The technical term for this ability is “human echolocation,” similar to the built-in sonar device in animals such as dolphins and bats, which helps them navigate their environments by processing sound waves, or echoes, reflected back from objects around them.  In this way, a person capable of human echolocation can identify not only the location of objects, but often their size and basic composition (i.e., metal, wood, vegetation, etc.) based on the vibratory frequency of those objects.  Consider what this reveals about the nature of all things and the energy of life!

            So as you move through the world remember that everyone and everything contributes to the overall energy of your life.  It’s okay to be selective about what you support and how you allow yourself to be energized—for good or ill—by other people and things.  As our most natural law tells us: Energy can neither be created nor destroyed, it simply changes form.    

            Ask yourself:  WHAT’S THE MATTER?

The Monkey Woman & the Alligator Man

We're all a little weird.  And life is a little weird. 

And when we find someone whose weirdness 

is compatible with ours,

we join up with them and fall 

into mutually satisfying weirdness-

and call it love-true love. 

~Robert Fulghum, True Love

  

I was visiting my friend Jenna that year. A brown-haired, brown-eyed beauty from Tennessee, Jenna had this thick, long mane of hair that followed the curve of her back, swaying behind her as she walked, and a long, slow southern-drawl as thick and sweet as molasses.  We had met in law school some years prior, and though the passing of time had forced us to trade our school books for an endless parade of clients, contracts and billable hours, our friendship had thrived.

She was a kindred spirit.  Smart and funny and interested in life, Jenna was the kind of friend you could trust and tell your secrets to; the kind of friend who would cheer you on in moments of triumph, and listen patiently as you cried your eyes out over some disappointment, always responding with compassion and candor.

And, oh, the things she’d say.  After a day in the sun, with a twinkle in her eye, she would tease, “Why, Melissa; you’re as brown as gingerbread; you better watch out or someone’s gonna’ eat you up!”  Always laughing and patting your arm or leg for emphasis.  She made me feel good about me.  So naturally that September, when I found myself in a funk, overworked, stressed out and recovering from a recent break-up, visiting Jenna was just what the doctor ordered.

We spent the afternoon hanging out by the pool, trading war stories from the trenches of our legal practice; she, speaking with warm affection of her husband, and I lamenting on my pathetic-all-but-non-existent-love-life.  We analyzed every word spoken, every tear shed and gut-wrenching moment of the break-up; caught and entangled in an exhausting game called "Let's Second Guess My Decision!" Should I have settled?  Would there be someone else better suited for me?  What if there wasn’t anyone else?  We carried on this way for hours until the sun set and we headed inside to take showers. 

“Come on, Melissa, it’s about to start!”  She called, grabbing two Cokes and a bag of microwave popcorn from the kitchen.  “This is the movie I was tellin’ you about."  I joined her on the sofa.

For the next hour, we watched in absolute amazement a film called “Freak Show,” a documentary about so called “circus sideshow freaks.” There was the human torso – the man born without legs who walked on his hands; the Siamese twins joined at the chest who married sisters, all sharing the same bed; a cute little man that called himself “The Pillow Man” because his neck was about 3 feet long, with no arms or a body – he was the size of a bed pillow. 

Then we were introduced to Priscilla, the Monkey Girl.  Born with hair all over her face and body, she had been dropped off at the circus one day by her father because he couldn’t handle the public’s reaction to her condition.  She was taken in and raised by the other circus people, making a good living for herself by performing and displaying her oddities.  My heart broke for the Monkey Girl. 

Then one day, the Alligator Man joined the circus, getting his name from the texture and appearance of his skin.  As fate would have it, he fell in love with the Monkey Girl, and she with him.  They were soon married, appearing everywhere in public and showcasing their wedding photos.  They seemed so happy together.

As the credits rolled, we sat in silence contemplating the insanity of it all; marveling at the ability of these people to be happy in spite of their circumstances.  Then Jenna turned, gently placing her hand on my arm, and in the most soothing voice I’d ever heard, said, “You see, Melissa, even the Monkey Woman found the Alligator Man . . . I just know there’s somebody out there for you.”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so I laughed; and we laughed and laughed.  I left Jenna’s house the next day full of gratitude for my own life and excitement for the discoveries yet to come.  

That was almost 15 years ago.  Now he’s here! My very own Alligator Man who loves and genuinely appreciates my crazy monkey business.  It feels like magic!  Yet, as I move from one phase of life to another, I see so clearly that these experiences, disappointments and difficult decisions led me to this exact place and time; to this wonderful connection; to this beautiful life we’re building together.  

We’ve only just begun to discover what we’re made of together, but I’m so glad he joined my crazy little circus!

FALLING IN LOVE ROCKS!

Even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. 

Even as he is for your growth 

so is he for your pruning.

Even as he ascends to your height and 

caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun, 

So shall he descend to your roots

and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself. 

He threshes you to make you naked. 

He sifts you to free you from your husks. 

He grinds you to whiteness. 

He kneads you until you are pliant; 

And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, 

that you may become sacred bread for God’s sacred feast.

All of these things shall love do unto you 

that you may know the secrets of your heart, 

and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life’s heart.

~Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

"Falling in Love Rocks!"
Roadside, Boulder Canyon.
(c) 2012 Melissa Johnson.

Last year while visiting my family in Virginia, my sweetheart and I had an opportunity to spend the afternoon in my grandfather’s basement. A mixture of Salvation Army this-and-thats, tools, books and World War II memorabilia, you didn’t have to know him to see his reflection in that downstairs room.  We spent hours rummaging through his things, speculating about what drew him to one item or another, as we shared tales of a life well lived. 

Then we found it, there in a drawer; his military issue handgun.  Not surprising given Grandpa’s affinity for antique military weaponry, but there just under the clear coat handle was a gorgeous, flirty photo of my Grandmother on one side, and a picture of the two of them lip-locked on the other.  I couldn’t take my eyes off the thing, transfixed by the paradox: Images of a life-enhancing love permanently affixed to a weapon of death and destruction.  Why?

“Don’t you see?” Kevin said, holding the gun in the palm of his hand.  “It’s a statement about his love.”  I still didn’t get it.  “Think about it…what did he live for?  What would he die for?  What would he defend?” 

I never really understood that kind of love until that moment.  I had dreamt of it, longed for it, read every relationship self-help book on the market and tried to convince myself that I'd found it, with no lasting effect.  But there in the basement, sharing that quiet moment, I got it. I knew that I would walk the line for him and I had no doubt he would do the same for me.  He already had. 

Our path has not been easy, especially in the beginning as we faced challenges that rocked us to the core, but our love has grown through the cracks of early disappointment.  Instead of running away we held fast to each other, strengthened by our shared experience of that which we couldn’t explain.  These became our building blocks; the foundation of our life together.  

We're planning a New Year's Eve wedding this year, a black tie affair with family and friends. I couldn't be more thrilled!  And as I reflect on how we got here from there, I am reminded that even when enduring our greatest struggles, being together has been mostly easy. Like falling rocks, we hit the ground and break apart sometimes but our pieces grow stronger and we become more of who we are. Not for the faint of heart.

CAUTION:  Falling in love rocks! 

BEAUTIFUL!

When I admire the wonders of a sunset

or the beauty of the moon,

my soul expands in the worship of the creator.

~ M. Gandhi

“Well, isn’t that beautiful!” She exclaims with delight in her breathy, southern drawl. “That’s about the prettiest thing I think I’ve evah seen!” “She” being my grandmother, Catherine Mitchell Mason, and the “beautiful”? Well, that could be just about anything—from a strand of pearls to a handwritten note to a honey glazed ham on the table for Christmas dinner. To her, they’re all beautiful and something to be cherished.

Yet this is not the world view of one who knows little of hardship and struggle. She grew up picking peas with her sisters in the pea patch, a hot, bothersome task for any child. And when her mother passed away, at 13 my Grandmother took on chores typically reserved for the lady of the house. She lived through World War II then married my grandfather when he returned from Germany. They had their children and built a strong life together. Then later, she watched with horror as her beloved burned in a car explosion right before her eyes, an accident requiring multiple skin grafts and a very long recovery, but she lived it with him and helped nurse him back to health.

When she discovered she was pregnant in her early 50s, having been warned by her doctor that having the baby would cost her life, she bravely stood with my Grandfather before a panel of male physicians to present her case for terminating the pregnancy, a courageous act indeed since abortion was illegal back then and her religious beliefs kept her at odds with the whole idea. She’s had multiple open heart surgeries, necessitated by valve damage from an early case of Rheumatic Fever, and she’s overcome the debilitating effects of the strokes she suffered during those procedures, learning to read, write and speak all over again—not once but twice! She dedicated many years of her life as a hospice volunteer, sitting bedside and caring for those terminally ill patients struggling to find comfort in their final days. Yes ma’am, my Grandmother knows a little something about the dark side of life, yet she’s never wavered in expressing its beauty.

She’s always been that way, no matter what anyone ever did or said to her, through good and bad, better and worse, she finds a way to give thanks and praise for the beauty that surrounds her. Even today as she winds down her life, Grandma still finds beauty in the simple things. When I call her to say hello and maybe ask her what she had for lunch that day, she never fails to say, “Oh, you should have seen the slice of cake [ham, roast beef, tater tots] they served at lunch. It was the prettiest thing I’ve evah seen!”

We could all learn a little something from Grandma.

You're So Critical!

Any problem, big or small...

always seems to start with bad communication.

Someone isn't listening.

~Emma Thompson

Sohbet (c) MJohnson 2011.

“You’re so critical!” he said to her, driving home from dinner that night. It was a moment—just words—that could have derailed their evening together had she assumed the worst. But she wanted to understand him; she always wanted to understand, so she asked, “What do you mean?” Then she listened.

Turns out, he meant that she was critical to him, to their relationship, to their peaceful life together. A very different “critical” than she had at first imagined.

An example so simple but so profound, with the power to shift our understanding of the way we communicate and perceive each other. Yet how often do we nearly kill ourselves jumping to conclusions?

I’ve seen it in friendships and partnerships; in the boardroom, the bedroom and in the courtroom. I’ve done it—selectively listened and assumed the worst—and I’ve watched with horrified amazement as others have done it too. I’ve witnessed folks come together for the right reasons and with the best intentions only to walk away from their common cause because what they heard and focused on was how far apart they were instead of how very closely aligned their interests had become.

There have been missed opportunities, hurt feelings, lawsuits, and, yes, even wars over the way we communicate and respond to crisis. We’ve ruined perfectly good times with loved ones because we’re so busy making assumptions about what they did or said or meant rather than assuming the best of their intentions and bridging the gap between our hearts. Misunderstandings have escalated into full-blown battles because we’re caught and entangled in our comforting but destructive habit of choosing to be offended.

But we’ve also created thriving businesses, communities, relationships and families through our conscious communications. We’ve expressed love, hurt, excitement and joy, and we’ve shared our plans and desires as others have heard us and responded in kind. What a relief to be heard and understood!

Sufi mystics describe this connection as “sohbet.” Though a bit difficult to translate in English, this word—pronounced “so-bet”—speaks of a different kind of conversation. It involves deep listening between the heart and spirit. It refers to a way of communication that is more than just words; it is, in essence, the transmission of one’s heart to another in conversation. But it’s even more than that, for true sohbet encompasses the many silent conversations taking place each moment between every living thing in the cosmos, and it is believed that those with ears attuned to the inner heart can hear these subtle exchanges.

True sohbets can be so powerful that those involved can bring about incredibly deep understanding in a very short period of time, much quicker than prayer and meditation alone. So significant is this to our highest way of being in the world that most every spiritual tradition describes a version of this “great listening”—Christians, Hindus, Muslims, Buddhists, and many Native Traditions—where we are encouraged to listen deeply and respond with the whole heart. And though many speak of listening to Spirit as the highest directive, this wisdom translates well into our relationships. Imagine what we could accomplish if we brought this practice to our business and personal affairs!

But to reach the level of sohbet, we have to put away our cell phones and laptops, video games and DVDs, turn off the television and tune into each other—eye to eye—and really connect with the truth of the heart and all that it reveals. That’s where the magic happens.

So as we move into this magical holiday season, giving thanks for all that is, why not give the gift of sohbet.  Be that person who seeks to understand before demanding to be understood, and there in that space discover the truth of just how critical you are.