THE YEAR OF GRACE - GRIEF AND HOPE

The caregiving is over. The memorial service planned and delivered. The flowers wilted and gone except for a single lavender rose that I pressed in her Bible. The kids have returned to their homes in Seattle. Her family returned to their homes in Florida and Georgia and Arkansas. Its quiet in the house. I can't watch TV or listen to music or read a paper. I need the stillness as if I too am dead. When they found the tumor 10 months ago we had hope. We believed we could fight and manage the cancer and live for years as so many of our neighbors and friends have done. But hers was aggressive and unbending. She was courageous in the fight, never gave up hope, always believed and was determined to the end. And she did it all with such elegance, poise, grace and will. Her will to live, her will to retain her dignity was the strongest thing I have ever witnessed and probably ever will. It inspired me and I wanted to do everything for her, to help her and to make the most out of every precious moment we had left. But even the moments dwindled away too fast and time was escaping; sand in an hourglass that appears to slide through the passageway at an ever escalating speed until the last grains literally rush to the end. The journey was full of lessons but lessons I would have preferred to learn some other way. Looking back it was a year of trial and unending challenges that tested our faith, strength and endurance in every way. On November 14th I promised her I would be there, with her, holding her hand at every moment, every step every minute of every day and I held true to that promise. I gave my best and I delivered my service and love to her with gentleness, kindness, respect and the tenderness that she deserved. Now I am in a fog, in a maze of grief, that seems to ebb and flow at some uneven pace. I do not know how to manage this pain other than to just step forward one step at a time and embrace hope and give of myself to others with kindness and understanding. Maybe that is the test of this time, for me, through this experience to prove myself a better man than I was and to take the lessons she taught me, especially in this last year of Grace, to renew my own days with grace and goodness. As painful as it is I sense that by enduring the pain ( not denying it) will steel me for the future, will soften that part of my heart that otherwise would be hardened. And so I will grieve and let the waves of sadness wash over me yet continue to swim in the waters of life ever determined to stay afloat and be a survivor for myself, for others, and maybe some day, for another.

IDEALIZED PROJECTION

I feel fortunate to be a "look forward" person. I don't spend much time dwelling on the past although I certainly look to the past to learn from my mistakes. I also have, not many, but some regrets for those times I may have gotten lost along the way. When it comes to people I usually see others not as they are but as they can be. In doing so I find myself looking past most of their faults, in essence minimizing their faults relative to their best qualities. In rare cases I am entirely blinded to their faults. In those instances I "see" the person as nearly perfect and as an idealized projection of what I want to believe about this person. It is not unlike a dreamlike perception where you see the angelic beauty of a person with no faults, negatives or drawbacks. Perhaps seeing the other as a perfect version of ones self.

On the surface it seems like idealized projection is a wonderful quality that allows me to see the beauty and the potential of that individual; and in many ways it is. In his fiction book "Illusions", Richard Bach proclaims "the sky is always perfect, always changing, but always perfect". That is true about us as human beings as well. We are always as we are meant to be any particular moment. However idealized projection does carry a risk. Like others, I am often "let down" or dissapointed when the person turns out to be not entirely as I envisioned them. Over time as the reality of a person is revealed I may find that there is more of a balance between the fine attributes and the fine character flaws, the human frailties, which we all possess. In the exhuberance or romance of early acquaintance a person projects his or her hope of what that new individual might be like. This is probably especially true in romance but it is also true in normal every day meetings and encounters. Idealized projection which might also called idolized projection is not a "bad" thing. It is a way of looking at the world, maybe what was once called "through rose colored glasses" and yet perhaps the opposite of looking at the world through cynicysm and an overly critical eye. The key, for me, is to be aware of my tendency to "shade" my encounters to the benefit of the bearer and to know that there may be more to that person than the eye can readily see.

The Accidental Obsession

Walking through a field beats down the bush into a hardened trail not unlike how the trail beats down the weary traveler who has traversed this path so many times before. As the trail begins to deepen and form a rut if we are lucky we awaken to the stark realization that we are now in it and passing through it and have been for some length of time, at least long enough to form the rut. Then as we are thinking about how and if and when we might find our way out, it starts to rain and the rain becomes muck and the muck becomes mud. Often at this point we discover that we are on a slippery slope. We sometimes wallow in the muck of our own creation burying even the idea of getting out. One day, by happenstance or by design, we find the turf of our trail is dryed by the dawn of a new day. Suddenly we find ourselves on a trail amidst a field of brilliant purple clover. At that moment, but only if we are lucky, and fully aware or entirely determined, can we move our small steps, just a little, to step up out of the rut of our making. At that moment we find our toes are no longer stuck in the muck nor in the lost days of our past. We discover we can run freely through the waving grasses. We smell the sweet perfect clover at our feet. And in that singular moment, when we are self freed of the ruts of our past, it may be hard to look back and understand just how we got there in the first place. We wonder why we waited so long to step out to where we belong. And yet the better part of ourselves drinks in the knowledge that we were, then, lost souls, on a trail of dust, of our own making, swirling around us and that that chaos blocked even the view, of the beauty so seemingly so far, yet actually so near. We see ourselves embrace the hope of a new beginning. Our new start is grounded with the wisdom of our past travels along the rutted road. For only by leaving the rutted roads of our past may we find the sweet fields and green pastures of our future.

How much fun can one man have?

My business life has evolved into the joy of investing heavily in sports stadiums and arenas, professional leagues and teams, concert halls and live music venues, historic live theatrical venues, collegiate teams, stadiums and arenas, zoos and aquariums, museums and amusement parks and venues. I toil at travel to these fascinating places and great people who, mostly, love their work at something they are passionate about. For me it is not work but a true combination of "business and pleasure". How fortunate I am to have stumbled into such a venture. Just how much fun can one man have? A lot of fun!

LIVING SIMPLY IS SIMPLY LIVING

I am grateful to my new island friends Charlene, Rudolph and Andrea, and my youngest new bestest friend Sheena, for their kindness and love. By their beautiful example, they showed me that one of the greatest lessons of Roatan is that love and life are the most basic elements of living simply and honestly. When Sheena hugged me I thought she was going to squeeze the stuffings out of me! Pure sweetness and love. How refreshing, energizing and mind clearing it is to escape the never-enough culture of American consumerism. How relaxing and relieving it is to forgo the stresses of competitiveness and the constant consciousness of material keep-up-ism. On Roatan; it is what it is. You are who you are. No pretense. No flash. No "bling" to distort or blind your values. You are not your car. You are not your house. You are not your job title. You are not your clothes You are not your jeweley. You are your face, your smile, your warmth, your demeanor, your family, your honor, your belief, your friendship, your kindness, your courtesy, your word. That is not to say that the Roatanians are simple minded or a simple people. They are bright and beautiful, educated, principled, honorable, hard working, God loving, hopeful and desirous of a better life, for themselves and for their families and children. But in the midst of having little or having less they do not miss "things" they never had. They are a people of grace and gratitide. They don't envy the visiting travelers for their possessions. I think they gracefully forgive the visitors for their "trespasses". In fact I sense the native Roatanians entirely understand the trap and the trappings of capitalistic materialism. For those wonderful strangers who quickly became friends and those kind souls who befriended me I found they have the knowledge and the gift of joy and a natural deep wisdom grounded in common sense and common decency. They are grounded spiritually, too. What a lesson they give and in such a quiet and un-imposing way, just being who and how they are: grace, Godly good and sincere in every way. We are much more alike than we are different. The seeming differences of time, era, region, country, race, language, age, culture, all seemed dissapate or nearly dissapear on Roatan. What a great lesson for me, if not for us all.

Roatan Life

A Roatan life. A simple life. An awakening. An appreciation of simplicity. A gratitude for the kindness of others. The awe inspiring beauty of lush nature on an island paradise. A remembrance of the way it used to be; simpler times, common folk, goodness as a way of life.

During a short ( too short ) 17 day vacation on the island of Roatan, Honduras I find myself reflecting on how I want to live, how I want to continue my days. I have so many impressions of this God's touched place. The beauty of the jungle island. The gorgeous blue and aqua waters lapping at the coral reef that surrounds the island. Every day I walk a jungle trail in the midst of serenity and a fresh carribean breeze. The dark night sky filled with a billion brilliant stars. All are awe inspiring and yet what touches me most are the island people, the natural native, Roatan people who are a kind, sweet, good natured and giving people. The people I have met work hard and give honestly of themselves. They don't complain, they find a way to make ends meet on an island that is undergoing a transition.

Not too many years ago the island was a simpler place, less populace and mostly missed by the "jet set" travelers who sailed the cruise ships to the Bahamas, the Carribean, or the Mexican "riviera" ports. Now with new deep water ports in Coxen Hole and Mahogany Bay the island docks 3 major cruise ships several times a week. The result is a booming tourist trade and the revelation of Roatan as a retirement destination. All of this brings change to the tiny island. Not all change is good, yet it is change and I witness the people of Roatan struggling to balance the old ways against the new realities and opportunities of the a new economy. These are hard working people, willing to commit themselves to the twists and turns that come with growth. I hope they don't lose themselves, their culture and their family values in the process. They are good people. I find myself learning a lot from these fine and gracious people. I met many whom I would want for a neighbor, a friend and as family. God speed to you all; Rudolph, Charlene, ElisaMay, Manu, Eldon, Dereld, Truman, Ezra, Kirkie, Andrea, Juan, Ornal Brooks, and hard working Henry, too.

Doors of Destiny

Temple Grandin was born August 29, 1947. At age two and because of her developmental "disabilities" she was diagnosed as autistic. Her life of accomplishment is depicted in the compelling HBO movie "Temple Grandin". Today she is a Doctor of Animal Science and professor at Colorado State University. Her accomplishments include her achievement as a bestselling author, and consultant to the livestock industry in animal behavior. As a person with high-functioning autism, Grandin is also widely noted for her work in autism advocacy.

Like some autistics Temple Grandin had a fear of doors and was reduced to near paralysis when facing an new or unknown door. It was a true obstacle of fear and she could not see beyond the idea of the door as a wall with some terror waiting for her behind it. At an early age Temple's mother planted the seed of an idea that only by mustering the courage to go through doors could a person discover the opportunities that lie waiting on the other side. Throughout her life Temple Grandin has faced new doors with trepidation yet she has also mustered the courage to walk through her fear to discover and achieve ever higher plateaus of success and accomplishment.

Temple Grandin and the miracle of her achievement, her persistent and ability to will herself forward in the face of unimaginable fear and doubt offers a reminder of how most of us see doors as obstacles in our lives. The doors appear as monolithic walls blocking our pathway. During today's challenges it feels like our economic pathway to our hopes and dreams is ruined or forstalled. It is in this moment of uncertainty that we can embrace the idea that today's challenges are but another door to be opened with a threshold leading to new opportunities.

From where does the courage come to face our fears? From where does the will come to walk through uncertainty and doubt? I recall my grand-daughter Raine; at age 3 she was a reluctant "flower girl" at her Uncle Derek's wedding. The affair was outside. When all the seats were full the music commenced and the cue came for the flower girl to walk down the aisle sprinkling red rose petals along the pathway to the alter. But in that moment the flower girl froze. The tiny sweet blonde in the white frilly dress stood still as if a monster blocked her path. And everyone understood. Half expected her to bolt away in tears. Then, as if some inner voice whispered "you can do this" she took a deep breath and charged down the aisle throwing those flowers with a determination like I never saw.