...only not really.
(I meant to write last night, but instead spent the evening getting my checked bags under 50 pounds each. It would seem I should also have paid attention to the weight of my carry-on—it was 3 pounds heavier than allowed—luckily, the ticket agent let me slide.)
I’m aboard Hawai‘ian Airlines flight HA 3. At the moment I wrote this sentence, we’re about 300 miles out of Los Angeles and 2,300 miles from Honolulu. I feel like an actor offstage between scenes; “...what’s past is prologue,” as Antonio said in The Tempest, and what’s to come is in my discharge.
What’s past is much on my mind, today. My best friend Wayne and his wife (a great good friend) accompanied Mom and me to the airport this morning to see me off. After 12 years treading one path together, Wayne’s path and mine diverge today, and that is a poignant, melancholy truth. Not that we’ll never see one another again—not that we won’t always be friends and collaborators—still, it cannot be denied that this changes things.
Strangely, parting with Mom was easier. I don’t really know why—I love Mom and will certainly miss her—yet somehow it was less difficult to say &ledquo;Aloha” to her.
The last time I looked back before turning my gaze forward (to the TSA check station, and not, alas, toward some “trackless horizon”), all three—Wayne, Margaret, and Mom—had their “game faces” on, and I was wearing mine, too. I didn’t look back after that, though; I thought that a blubbering grown man might look a bit suspicious to the TSA agent, and I knew that one more glance and that would be all she wrote.
Now I am on my way. What’s past is prologue—important and meaningful and never to be dismissed or diminished—my task is to build on it; to build a life worthy of who and what has gone before.
I am, in fact, looking forward toward a metaphorical “trackless horizon”—I am, in fact, facing the most exciting adventure of my life—and I am well aware of how lucky I am to have the family and friends I have; people who have my back and who sometimes heroically support me on my journey, though it cost them dearly.
I can never say mahalo (“Thank you”) enough.
Once I arrive, I’ll immediately apply for my Hawai‘i driver’s license. I’ll get better acquainted with my gracious hosts. I’ll explore O‘ahu for a few days with them as my guides. I’ll take plenty of pictures. I’ll begin the process of making a new life in a new place with new friends and new possibilities...but I will never forget those whose friendships will always be a part of me. This is a change, not an ending.
Aloha is not merely “hello” and “goodbye”—it is love and affection and esteem and compassion and caring. It is a spirit that reminds me of a Hindi greeting: Namasté. Namasté can be understood as, “The Divine in me recognizes and greets the Divine in you.” When The Divine greets the Divine, goodness flows. That is what the Aloha Spirit has always been to me; goodness and good will flowing from person to person. That is why the Islands have been calling me. It is that about Island culture that beguiled me long since.
I don’t know very much about what’s going to happen. I know what island I will live and work on, at least this year. I know at least generally what my job will be. I know the climate will be mild and the scenery beautiful. I know the ocean, my mistress, will be always near. And that’s about it. I don’t know more specifically where I’ll be living or who I’ll meet or just how I’ll spend my free time. I don’t know much of anything at all; don’t even know who I’ll become.
Not knowing is the best part. I’ve challenged the universe: “Surprise me!”
I just filled out the standard form everyone flying into Hawai’i must complete before landing. Always before, I’ve marked “I am a Visitor to Hawai‘i” but this time is different. This time I marked “I am a Intended resident moving to Hawai’i for at least one year.”
It’s a little thing, really...only not really.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Friday, June 29, 2012
Illusions
The universe is a funny place, and even funnier since the advent of social media. For example, I have 868 “friends” on my Facebook “friends list” (don’t look at me that way! I know almost all of them “in real life”). Granted, not all of them appear in my feed, but quite a number of them do, and therefore many silly, sentimental, faux-inspirational, sometimes inauthentic quotes, aphorisms, and sayings cross before my eyes on a daily basis.
The same is true of my Twitter feed (and less true of Google+ just because I’ve encircled different people who use the service differently), but everywhere I turn I’m inundated with “sayings,” most of dubious provenance. And yet...
And yet, I frequently find gems among the dross, and sometimes the inauthentic or misattributed quotes are as bright and beautiful as the authentic and accurate ones.
What’s more (and what prompted this blog entry), a surprising number of those gems are absolutely apropos to what I’m going through right now.
This journey, as previously discussed, has been a voyage of discovery and development and growth. I’ve been stretched and exercised and challenged, and the lessons just keep coming. That’s a good thing—in fact, it’s a great thing—and I think what’s happening is that I’m unconsciously attuned to the lessons I’m learning, so when a quote or aphorism addresses those lessons, it grabs my attention. Take two items that crossed my view just this morning:
None of us really has much control at all. None of us has much influence on the future. We are responsible for our choices, and our choices have some effect, but much of what we experience is completely beyond our control.
That isn’t a very comfortable reality, so most of us, for most of our lives, reject it. We create a fantasy in which we are masters of our destiny, and that fantasy has value; because we believe it, we work hard to make things turn out the way we want them to. Without it, many would be tempted to lives of passivity, being acted upon but never acting.
I think it’s good to act on our own behalf—to do what we can to create the outcome we want—but I am learning to accept that what I can do is only part of how things turn out. I’m learning to embrace uncertainty and surprise as inevitable, unavoidable, and even desirable.
I won’t stop striving for outcomes I value—I deserve a good outcome, and those I touch deserve my best efforts on their behalf—but at the same time I must accept that many things are beyond my control. I must learn to play the hand I’m dealt, eat the meal I’m served, adapt to circumstances as they are.
There’s real value in the Serenity Prayer, and not just in the familiar first stanza:
And if we continue through the Serenity Prayer, and not just the familiar first stanza, what do we find? A challenge to take “this sinful world as it is” (emphasis mine), and not as we would have it.
As so many of us like to say, “It is what it is,” which is to say it accomplishes nothing to bust our heads against an immovable rock. Yes, we should have courage to change the things we can (and should), but we need wisdom to know and accept the things we cannot change.
To give up the illusion of control is not the same as: “Since I gave up hope, I feel a lot better.” Hope is not superfluous. Hope counterbalances cynicism, and without hope wisdom fails. For me a better phrase—one more in keeping with the lessons I’m learning— would be:
The same is true of my Twitter feed (and less true of Google+ just because I’ve encircled different people who use the service differently), but everywhere I turn I’m inundated with “sayings,” most of dubious provenance. And yet...
And yet, I frequently find gems among the dross, and sometimes the inauthentic or misattributed quotes are as bright and beautiful as the authentic and accurate ones.
What’s more (and what prompted this blog entry), a surprising number of those gems are absolutely apropos to what I’m going through right now.
This journey, as previously discussed, has been a voyage of discovery and development and growth. I’ve been stretched and exercised and challenged, and the lessons just keep coming. That’s a good thing—in fact, it’s a great thing—and I think what’s happening is that I’m unconsciously attuned to the lessons I’m learning, so when a quote or aphorism addresses those lessons, it grabs my attention. Take two items that crossed my view just this morning:
- “I have no idea what’s going to happen, and I love it.” Unattributed
- “Life is a series of surprises, and would not be worth taking or keeping if it were not.” Ralph Waldo Emerson
None of us really has much control at all. None of us has much influence on the future. We are responsible for our choices, and our choices have some effect, but much of what we experience is completely beyond our control.
That isn’t a very comfortable reality, so most of us, for most of our lives, reject it. We create a fantasy in which we are masters of our destiny, and that fantasy has value; because we believe it, we work hard to make things turn out the way we want them to. Without it, many would be tempted to lives of passivity, being acted upon but never acting.
I think it’s good to act on our own behalf—to do what we can to create the outcome we want—but I am learning to accept that what I can do is only part of how things turn out. I’m learning to embrace uncertainty and surprise as inevitable, unavoidable, and even desirable.
I won’t stop striving for outcomes I value—I deserve a good outcome, and those I touch deserve my best efforts on their behalf—but at the same time I must accept that many things are beyond my control. I must learn to play the hand I’m dealt, eat the meal I’m served, adapt to circumstances as they are.
There’s real value in the Serenity Prayer, and not just in the familiar first stanza:
God grant me the serenityThe first idea is perhaps the most difficult for those of us raised in Western culture. We have come to believe the myth that there is nothing we cannot change, but reality is not affected by what we believe. If we can learn to accept the things we cannot change (without abdicating responsibility for the things we can), we will find serenity; often that which frustrates us is the belief that we can control something we really can’t.
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen.
—Reinhold Niebuhr
And if we continue through the Serenity Prayer, and not just the familiar first stanza, what do we find? A challenge to take “this sinful world as it is” (emphasis mine), and not as we would have it.
As so many of us like to say, “It is what it is,” which is to say it accomplishes nothing to bust our heads against an immovable rock. Yes, we should have courage to change the things we can (and should), but we need wisdom to know and accept the things we cannot change.
To give up the illusion of control is not the same as: “Since I gave up hope, I feel a lot better.” Hope is not superfluous. Hope counterbalances cynicism, and without hope wisdom fails. For me a better phrase—one more in keeping with the lessons I’m learning— would be:
“Since I gave up (the illusion of) control, I feel a lot happier.”
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Crunch Time
Won’t be posting anything too deep this morning; it’s down to crunch time. I have two rooms to finish clearing and five rooms to start cleaning. I think it’s going to go pretty fast today...but I’ve been wrong before.
I’ve got a few appointments left: chiropractor this morning and doctor Monday.
I have important social engagements, too: dinner at the Hess residence tonight, Spamalot tomorrow night, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Saturday night, and Berry Bunch time Sunday.
Tuesday at 6:00 AM, I leave for the airport, accompanied by Mom and the Berrys.
Where’d the time go?
I’ve got a few appointments left: chiropractor this morning and doctor Monday.
I have important social engagements, too: dinner at the Hess residence tonight, Spamalot tomorrow night, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Saturday night, and Berry Bunch time Sunday.
Tuesday at 6:00 AM, I leave for the airport, accompanied by Mom and the Berrys.
Where’d the time go?
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Boundaries
It’s interesting how the world works. We start with limitless potential and possibility. Over time, our decisions create the context of our lives, including boundaries and restrictions. Our possibilities are bounded by those boundaries and restrictions. And there’s nothing wrong with boundaries and restrictions; they are necessary components of our lives. Without them, we might never know any sense of security.
What happens, though, is that we sometimes lose sight of the fact that we’ve created a context that includes boundaries and restrictions; we think that the context we’ve made is all that there is. We are blinded by the choices we’ve made.
Then something happens and we make new decisions—sometimes just one new decision—that obliterate those boundaries we’ve stopped noticing and we find ourselves faced once again with limitless potential and possibility.
That’s what happened to me this year. I had made choices—good choices, choices I was happy with—and over time those choices and the choices that derived from them and the choices that came after that created a (really, pretty great) world, but one past the end of which I couldn’t see.
Then something happened that exploded that world, and suddenly I was faced with limitless potential and possibility.
And it was scary.
It was scary, but it was also exciting. It was exhilarating. It was like taking off a pair of too-tight shoes at the end of the day; I’d stopped noticing how tight they were until my feet were free.
If I wasn’t going to stay where I was, I could go anywhere. Anywhere! The whole world opened up before me!
It was awesome.
Then I began making decisions. It isn’t possible to go “anywhere”—one has to choose a single place. I considered many places—North Carolina, Idaho, Washington, Utah, Hungary, the Middle East—but my heart was inexorably drawn to Hawai‘i, and once I decided that was where I intended to be, my scope narrowed.
I’ve had to stay flexible, of course—since it’s impossible to be fully self-sufficient, my decisions have been predicated on circumstances as well as my own desires and intentions—but each decision has defined a new context and begun creating a new world. Just Tuesday I decided to accept an employment offer, which more sharply defines the new boundaries of my new world.
I will teach 8th grade English/Language Arts at Lahaina Intermediate School in Lahaiana on Maui.
This decision dictates:
so many aspects of temporal existence. Some things are possible, but without changing this decision, other things are not.
That’s okay. That’s the consequence of free will; every decision opens up some possibilities and closes off others.
It’s a new world, different than the one I am leaving, but both are largely of my making, and while I’m going to miss much of my old life, I’m excited to discover what unexpected opportunities and challenges this new world has for me.
What happens, though, is that we sometimes lose sight of the fact that we’ve created a context that includes boundaries and restrictions; we think that the context we’ve made is all that there is. We are blinded by the choices we’ve made.
Then something happens and we make new decisions—sometimes just one new decision—that obliterate those boundaries we’ve stopped noticing and we find ourselves faced once again with limitless potential and possibility.
That’s what happened to me this year. I had made choices—good choices, choices I was happy with—and over time those choices and the choices that derived from them and the choices that came after that created a (really, pretty great) world, but one past the end of which I couldn’t see.
Then something happened that exploded that world, and suddenly I was faced with limitless potential and possibility.
And it was scary.
It was scary, but it was also exciting. It was exhilarating. It was like taking off a pair of too-tight shoes at the end of the day; I’d stopped noticing how tight they were until my feet were free.
If I wasn’t going to stay where I was, I could go anywhere. Anywhere! The whole world opened up before me!
It was awesome.
Then I began making decisions. It isn’t possible to go “anywhere”—one has to choose a single place. I considered many places—North Carolina, Idaho, Washington, Utah, Hungary, the Middle East—but my heart was inexorably drawn to Hawai‘i, and once I decided that was where I intended to be, my scope narrowed.
I’ve had to stay flexible, of course—since it’s impossible to be fully self-sufficient, my decisions have been predicated on circumstances as well as my own desires and intentions—but each decision has defined a new context and begun creating a new world. Just Tuesday I decided to accept an employment offer, which more sharply defines the new boundaries of my new world.
I will teach 8th grade English/Language Arts at Lahaina Intermediate School in Lahaiana on Maui.
This decision dictates:
- who I’ll meet
- where I look for a home (Lahaina, Kā‘anapali, Wailuka, Kihei)
- how much I pay for a home
- where I get a post office box
- what it will cost to insure my motorcycle
- what activities I’ll be able to engage in
- how I approach my job
- what I do outside my job
- how often I go to church and where
so many aspects of temporal existence. Some things are possible, but without changing this decision, other things are not.
That’s okay. That’s the consequence of free will; every decision opens up some possibilities and closes off others.
It’s a new world, different than the one I am leaving, but both are largely of my making, and while I’m going to miss much of my old life, I’m excited to discover what unexpected opportunities and challenges this new world has for me.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
FYI
It’s time, I think, to suggest ways the handful of faithful readers can keep track of this sometimes-irregular blog (without being utterly dependent on seeing my “share”), and time also to plead for a little interaction.
I know people are reading—Blogger provides viewing statistics—so let me suggest that if you find this blog generally worth your time, you “subscribe” to it or add it to Google Reader. That way you’ll be notified whenever I post something new, and won’t risk missing a word of deathless prose. Yes, I write for me, but I publish for you, and I wouldn’t want you to miss a thing. So subscribe; then you don’t have to expend any effort.
Also, since you are reading, I’d love to hear from you. Feel free to comment: respond, make suggestions, share a piece of your story, correct my spelling (thank you, Evan!)... All I ask is that you keep it civil.
That would be cool...
I know people are reading—Blogger provides viewing statistics—so let me suggest that if you find this blog generally worth your time, you “subscribe” to it or add it to Google Reader. That way you’ll be notified whenever I post something new, and won’t risk missing a word of deathless prose. Yes, I write for me, but I publish for you, and I wouldn’t want you to miss a thing. So subscribe; then you don’t have to expend any effort.
Also, since you are reading, I’d love to hear from you. Feel free to comment: respond, make suggestions, share a piece of your story, correct my spelling (thank you, Evan!)... All I ask is that you keep it civil.
That would be cool...
Saturday, June 23, 2012
I’ve Been Wrong About “wrong” Before
I had two phone interviews this week—one Tuesday and the other Wednesday—and I’ve already heard back from both schools. One elected to hire someone else, and the other offered me a position. The one that offered me a position would like me to respond by Wednesday. Good news! I won’t be unemployed when I move to Hawai`i!
I’m probably going to wait until pretty close to Wednesday to respond—while the odds don’t look great, it’s possible that another school or two will be interested in what I have to offer and I do have some (minor) qualms about the position offered—but barring the unforeseen I now know where I'm going.
It’s exciting! More exciting than I was really looking for, in fact...
You see, all my plans so far have been predicated on the hope that I’d find a position on O‘ahu. It’s the most developed island with the largest population, so (I reasoned) it was the place most likely to have the most opportunities. It made sense to me, at any rate.
I have other reasons for hoping that something on O‘ahu would come through. There’s a good-sized church family there, which would provide great support. And it’s the island my brother has to live on when he moves to Hawai‘i (in the next half year or so). We’ve been plotting to room together, and since we both do many of the same things and have many of the same interests—scuba diving, hiking, swimming, stand-up paddleboarding, kayaking, etc.—being on the same island would give each of us a ready partner for the active life we both love.
But I have an offer.
It’s the “wrong” island, the “wrong” grade level, and the “wrong” subject...and unless something better (a lot better) comes along in the next four days, I’m going to accept it with enthusiasm and love the heck out of it, welcoming the challenges it bears with it.
Maybe it’s for the best; maybe it’s for my best. Maui may be the “wrong” island, but it is beautiful and wonderful—it’s got forests and beaches and a really great outdoors overall. 8th grade may be the “wrong” grade level, but there are marvelous opportunities to make a real difference in the lives of 8th graders. And English may be the “wrong” subject, but I do love it, and I’ve known all along that it was unlikely I’d find a position teaching the “right” one. And (more to the point) if I go there I wouldn’t have much of a support network at all.
Maybe that’s what I need. I’ve said before that among the virtues of this adventure are the risks I have to take. Maybe O‘ahu is too easy. Maybe what I really need is to go "all in" and face the world alone.
It isn’t as if I’ll be completely alone, after all; There are a few church members on Maui, and I’ll have coworkers who I hope will become friends. And family and friends are always available via social network, email, and phone. But maybe the real adventure is going into a place where I have very few connections—too few to weave a safety net—and find my path; find myself.
Maybe the “wrong” island, the “wrong” grade level, and the “wrong” subject are just what I need. I’m open to the possibility...
I’ve been wrong about “wrong” before.
I’m probably going to wait until pretty close to Wednesday to respond—while the odds don’t look great, it’s possible that another school or two will be interested in what I have to offer and I do have some (minor) qualms about the position offered—but barring the unforeseen I now know where I'm going.
It’s exciting! More exciting than I was really looking for, in fact...
You see, all my plans so far have been predicated on the hope that I’d find a position on O‘ahu. It’s the most developed island with the largest population, so (I reasoned) it was the place most likely to have the most opportunities. It made sense to me, at any rate.
I have other reasons for hoping that something on O‘ahu would come through. There’s a good-sized church family there, which would provide great support. And it’s the island my brother has to live on when he moves to Hawai‘i (in the next half year or so). We’ve been plotting to room together, and since we both do many of the same things and have many of the same interests—scuba diving, hiking, swimming, stand-up paddleboarding, kayaking, etc.—being on the same island would give each of us a ready partner for the active life we both love.
But I have an offer.
It’s the “wrong” island, the “wrong” grade level, and the “wrong” subject...and unless something better (a lot better) comes along in the next four days, I’m going to accept it with enthusiasm and love the heck out of it, welcoming the challenges it bears with it.
Maybe it’s for the best; maybe it’s for my best. Maui may be the “wrong” island, but it is beautiful and wonderful—it’s got forests and beaches and a really great outdoors overall. 8th grade may be the “wrong” grade level, but there are marvelous opportunities to make a real difference in the lives of 8th graders. And English may be the “wrong” subject, but I do love it, and I’ve known all along that it was unlikely I’d find a position teaching the “right” one. And (more to the point) if I go there I wouldn’t have much of a support network at all.
Maybe that’s what I need. I’ve said before that among the virtues of this adventure are the risks I have to take. Maybe O‘ahu is too easy. Maybe what I really need is to go "all in" and face the world alone.
It isn’t as if I’ll be completely alone, after all; There are a few church members on Maui, and I’ll have coworkers who I hope will become friends. And family and friends are always available via social network, email, and phone. But maybe the real adventure is going into a place where I have very few connections—too few to weave a safety net—and find my path; find myself.
Maybe the “wrong” island, the “wrong” grade level, and the “wrong” subject are just what I need. I’m open to the possibility...
I’ve been wrong about “wrong” before.
Serenity
This morning I said goodbye to my sister Karen, my brother-in-law Michael, and my niece Madison. It was a wonderful visit—we celebrated Madison’s birthday (twice!), I got to share in the moment as my sister’s sensory world opened up after fifteen years of invisible-but-very-real limits, I shared some quality time with other friends in the Rocklin area—and it’s the last time for many of those things.
For many years, now, I’ve been able to travel up to Rocklin at least a couple of times a year to visit, and Karen, Michael, and Madison have been able to travel down to the Antelope Valley at least a couple of times a year to visit Mom and me. With me moving to Hawai‘i, visits become much less frequent. It’s not going to be possible for any of us to make a (relatively) casual trip to see the others. I imagine that once I’m settled I’ll occasionally visit the Mainland, but once a year is as good as it will get and it may not get that good for a long time. Who knows when I’ll see my Rocklin friends (or Lucy or Bailey, the family dogs) again?
I’ll see Karen, Michael, and Madison once a year, probably; the traditional Hawai‘i vacation will continue and for me, they’ll be cheaper than they've been in the past. But once a year is not the same as four or more times a year. It’s the end of an era.
It’s another “last.”
For the most part, I don’t really like these lasts. (The few I have liked I’ve mostly kept to myself.) Endings, of traditions or habits or regular contact or normal practices, are hard. Some are harder than others...
Farewells are hard. Reduced contact with loved ones (family, friends, respected colleagues) is hard. Change is hard, and the more it changes things we value, the harder it is.
But change is also inevitable, and sometimes choosing the change brings some comfort. I chose this change (and I’m sorry that it leaves some of you with no choice; I’m well aware that by choosing this change I’ve imposed unwelcome changes on you), and that helps me face the pain.
If I seem serene, I am. If I seem unaffected, I’m not. I’m deeply affected. My serenity is the product of a great deal of agonizing over my choices and my decision to “seize the day.” This choice is remaking me, and I’m not gonna lie; that’s among its attractions.
For many years, now, I’ve been able to travel up to Rocklin at least a couple of times a year to visit, and Karen, Michael, and Madison have been able to travel down to the Antelope Valley at least a couple of times a year to visit Mom and me. With me moving to Hawai‘i, visits become much less frequent. It’s not going to be possible for any of us to make a (relatively) casual trip to see the others. I imagine that once I’m settled I’ll occasionally visit the Mainland, but once a year is as good as it will get and it may not get that good for a long time. Who knows when I’ll see my Rocklin friends (or Lucy or Bailey, the family dogs) again?
I’ll see Karen, Michael, and Madison once a year, probably; the traditional Hawai‘i vacation will continue and for me, they’ll be cheaper than they've been in the past. But once a year is not the same as four or more times a year. It’s the end of an era.
It’s another “last.”
For the most part, I don’t really like these lasts. (The few I have liked I’ve mostly kept to myself.) Endings, of traditions or habits or regular contact or normal practices, are hard. Some are harder than others...
Farewells are hard. Reduced contact with loved ones (family, friends, respected colleagues) is hard. Change is hard, and the more it changes things we value, the harder it is.
But change is also inevitable, and sometimes choosing the change brings some comfort. I chose this change (and I’m sorry that it leaves some of you with no choice; I’m well aware that by choosing this change I’ve imposed unwelcome changes on you), and that helps me face the pain.
If I seem serene, I am. If I seem unaffected, I’m not. I’m deeply affected. My serenity is the product of a great deal of agonizing over my choices and my decision to “seize the day.” This choice is remaking me, and I’m not gonna lie; that’s among its attractions.
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