"When I'm 65..." : Reflections on Aging Gracefully

 "When I get older losing my hair, many years from now...Will you still be sending me a Valentine, birthday greetings, bottle of wine? If I'd been out till quarter to three, would you lock the door? Would you still need me, would you still feed me...when I"m 64?" (The Beatles)

These thoughts have been rumbling around in my head - like a pair of knotted socks tumbling in the dryer - for the last several months. Something in me wanted to write about this, and another part of me kept dodging the chance to. Interesting dance to watch inside - kind of like playing "peek-a-boo" with oneself. But I finally got myself to sit down and sit still enough to let whatever's inside to come out. I'll be as surprised as you...

I'm about 1/2 way through Year 65 for me on this planet, and I have felt something significant about this year the whole time I've been living it. It has certainly been turbulent; most notably as a result of the beginning of my "from this day forward" dance with cancer. In 9 days, I'll be commemorating the one year anniversary of my surgery. All went well, and has been well. I am happy and healthier than I've ever been. 

But this event triggered in me a number of things: call them thoughts, or realizations, or discoveries...I'm not sure which fits best. But all of them have been new for me. Unlike anything I've previously thought, or realized, or discovered. They've all centered around the realization that I'm now an age that is "officially old". 65. Six decades, and then some. Retirement, Social Security, Medicare, "Senior" discounts at stores, AARP, 5 pm dinner times, nothing like a good pair of slippers and a cup of tea, one glass of wine puts one to sleep, 830 pm means "Good night, Irene" - that's the world of 65. That's what 65 meant to me. 

And as I've reached 65, I've learned that much of this is true. I cannot ignore that I'm older; the aches are a little more frequent and my pace has slowed a bit. But, as I suspect is true for most people when they age, I don't FEEL older emotionally inside. To some degree, the same Jonathan stares out of these eyes at the world. And this Jonathan sees much that has changed in the world, while inside, it feels a constancy about himself.

But I know I've changed. And that's what I've wanted to reflect on. At this point in my life, how have I changed? What is important to me now? What no longer is? And most importantly, am I "aging gracefully"? I don't know who coined that phrase, but it's an intention of mine. It seems to me that that is a CHOICE that we all ultimately have: How interested am I in being a wiser, nicer, more dignified, respectful, kinder, grateful human being as my time on this Earth begins to move to its conclusion? That choice is offered to all of us at all times in our lives. But I think it gets overlooked in the hustle and bustle of us "becoming something" and "living our lives". Only when we're older does its significance loom larger in our lives...if we're lucky. So here are some thoughts. 

"Aging is an extraordinary process where you become the person you always should have been." (David Bowie)

1.  I know that I value SIMPLE PLEASURES more deeply than I ever had. The evening cup of tea. Walks in the park with Deborah: dry leaves swirling our feet as we stroll among the quiet sentinels of fir and maple The unexpected pleasure in another person's eyes when you say something positive to them, like "Good job!" or "You impressed me" or simply "Thank you for being kind". Just sitting on my deck in the summer and watching the sun set on the golden hills.

A Simple pleasure: Misty morning at the golf course

And, yes, there's a small part of me that will wonder whether all my "adventuring" is done. It sadly sighs, thinking there are no more "epic stories' to live and tell. And I worry at times about getting stuck in a world of daily ruts and routines. I know I'm a creature of habits. But I'm growing more comfortable with the new "adventures" being the explorations of the inner kind. As I get older, I'm getting more and more familiar with my true nature: both good and not so good. And that is a valuable Pearl. 

2.  I enjoy the independence and freedom that both Deborah and I enjoy. We are lucky to be comfortable financially. This enables us to spend our days as we wish now. And best of all, we each get to spend them with our best friend. There can be no greater blessing. 

Yet, I've also noticed an odd feeling of "unimportance". This is something no one ever tells you comes with aging...and it's certainly foreign to someone who's been a teacher and coach and leader of sorts through most of his life. At 65, I'm seeing how it's easy to feel like none of "the world" cares about you or what you think anymore. You're a "Boomer". The world is seemingly run by 30-45 year olds. Advertisers only market drugs and vitamins to you. Entertainment seems designed to only shock you. The traditional values that you grew up with seem to have been tossed aside. The world looks to be a mess - and there's nothing you can do about it. 

But in those moments I'm reminded of this quote and its timeless truth:

“Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.” (Viktor Frankl)

And so I smile...and am grateful to still keep choosing a new way as it unfolds before me. 

A big Thanksgiving smile on a walk in our favorite park

3.  Finally, I've learned the true value of two simple words.  I have said these two words more often in the last year than I have in the previous 20 years of my life. They have helped give me clarity during difficult times; they have taught me both hope and patience; they have allowed Life to give me gifts that I could've never given myself. What are those two words?

WE'LL SEE. We'll see. 

They remind me of the fact that life on the Earth will ultimately reveal to us all, whether we agree with it or not. We are creatures born of a Higher nature. There is a Divine force and purpose in this world that is truly beyond our comprehension. For too long we struggle trying to "be the Creator" ourselves - convinced that we "control" Life, others, events, etc.. Only Time can ultimately prove the futility of that belief. As I've gotten older, it's been a little easier for me to doubt the certainty of what Jon thinks "he knows". I've come to more graciously accept that "what is" in a moment is more real than "what should be". And in the end, "what is" is really never static. Life is always being born, growing, living, dying, being reborn. "We'll see" reminds me of that reality and gift. 

It's been worthwhile to spend the time writing these thoughts down. I know I will reflect back on them. I'm sure there will be a Jonathan in the future who will need to be reminded of these insights. And I'm sure there will be more Pearls to come as my travels through Life continue. 

We'll see. 

Life's Journey - Storms and Sunshine

Hand in Hand

 "I could conquer the world with one hand as long as you're holding the other." (Lauren Alaina, US singer)

Our wedding anniversary is 3 days away and I wrote this as a gift to my wife and best friend, Deborah.

September 24 2006 - Truly a Beautiful Day

This adventure we call our lives together began 18 years ago, and there was a simple physical act that night that forever changed me and my world.

I was sitting next to you in the restaurant lobby on our 1st date. I was nervous, but trying bravely to pretend that I wasn't. Yet you knew. As I've learned over the years, you have always known me better than I've known myself. That is my blessing - and that is one of the reasons why I'm sure I fell in love with you. So, sensing my tension, you quietly did something that I've never forgotten. What sparked you, I don't know - Kindness? Compassion? Simple Human-ness? Perhaps all of this. But there's no doubt this simple act by you left an indelible mark on me.

You reached over and you held my hand.

And from that day forward to today and beyond, that has been the strongest symbol of the love and life that we have shared ever since.

You and Me. Hand in Hand.

There is not a day that has gone by in which we haven't strolled, sat, or stood next to each other, hand in hand.

Other people (usually "older folks") will see us and say "Isn't that nice! You never see people holding hands anymore!". Or they'll tell us "You two lovebirds make me smile". And we smile back and thank them. 

It may be a rare act in the world today to do what we do. But for us it's as natural as breathing. To be Hand in Hand.

We've shared adventures, great and small. Explored distant countries. Hiked forest trails. Sailed high over lakes. Wandered through deep canyons and quiet cathedrals. And strolled miles and miles of ocean beaches. All hand in hand. 

Wee've faced sad and difficult times as well. The deaths of loved ones. Sicknesses and surgeries. Betrayals and disappointments. Times when the whole world seems in chaos. Times when the cold winds of anger and frustration have swirled around and through us. 

And yet, no matter how dark these moments have felt at times - impenetrable and perpetual - Love's eternal presence has always been proven to us by a simple act that we each have remembered, no matter what. 

We reach out to the other. And we start again. Hand in Hand. 

If there ever was a theme song for our relationship and the love we have shared it is the beautiful piano solo by David Nevue that our friend Kate used to play at times for our Sunday classes. It always brought tears to my eyes as I listened to her play. I'm listening to it now as I write this, as it still touches me the same. 

No surprise as to its title. "Hand in Hand". 

Hand in Hand - by David Nevue

If I could, I'd play this song for you as you read this. Somehow, someway, I probably will. The music says things that my heart wishes to - but that my words cannot. 

So, as our 17th anniversary draws near, I just wanted to share these thoughts and feelings with you - out of gratitude and from love. They are the most precious gifts I can give you today. 

"I don't know where my road is going, but I know that I walk better when I hold your hand." (Alfred de Musset, Fr. poet)

And I make a simple promise that I will never stop reaching for your hand. May Love continue to guide us and enrich us. May it continue to be what holds us together as our Life journey goes on. No matter which way the road turns...no matter how high the hills or deep the valleys...sunny or stormy...I know one thing will always be true.

You and Me. Together. Hand in Hand.

Celebrating 17 years together in Sunriver 2 weeks ago

I love you always Sweetie. 

Your Jonathan

"Cancer Is Just A Word" - Chapter One

 "Cancer is a word, not a sentence." (John Diamond, Br. journalist. 1953-2001. Diagnosed with throat cancer in 1997)

There are 5 words in the English language that I never thought - not in a million years - that I would ever be saying. 

I am a cancer survivor. 

Yet here I am today, saying and praying those words, as fully and as honestly as I can. 

This entry, and likely another one or two in the future, is going to be about a journey that I never thought I'd ever take. A journey I would never have volunteered for. A journey whose challenges, destinations, and gifts along the way I could never have predicted. All of that, therefore, makes it a Pearl worth reflecting on here. 

“I wish it need not have happened in my time,” said Frodo. “So do I,” said Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.” (J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring)

Funny how the eddies of Time swirl and flow. The above quote (a favorite of mine) was what started a blog that I wrote two years ago, almost to the day. I shake my head in amazement that its wisdom returns to me this morning, at just the right time.  So where did this journey - that I wish need not have happened - but can only accept and decide what to do with what I've been given - begin?

It began simply, as all great treks do. Last March my doctor and I were reviewing the results of my last couple of blood tests done that year as part of my routine annual exams. But instead of talking about my cholesterol levels or blood pressure or weight (our usual topics of discussion), he wanted to talk about my PSA levels - a new term for me. Now, I'm not about to get all "wonky" on medical details in this entry, but a little education is good for all of us. PSA stands for "Prostate-Specific Antigen", and the bottom line is the more of this there is in one's blood, the greater the chance that one may have prostate cancer. Dr. Williams told me mine had risen significantly over the year, and he wanted to send me to a specialist "just to check it out". "This doesn't mean you have cancer. It's just a precaution. Everything will be fine." No worries, I thought, and agreed. "What's the big deal? I can handle seeing a urologist in Medford. All just part of getting a "tiny bit older". I'm healthy. I survived COVID just fine. No worries."

Dr Kadi-Ann Bryan, Rogue Valley Urology

And so I came to meet Dr. Kadi-Ann Bryan. We met with her 4-5 times over the course of the next year. There was no doubt from my 1st meeting with her that she was an exceptional person. I never would've guessed that my urologist would be a relatively young (mid-late 30's?) black woman with sharp black eyes, wearing bright scrubs and sporting a "no-nonsense" pile of braids wrapped atop her head like a royal turban. Very business-like. Certificates on her office wall from medical institutions around the world and country attesting to her skill. Without much of a friendly "Howdy" at all, Dr. Bryan began to tell me in confident detail what she intended to do with me and for me over the course of the near future. Whoa.

I'd like to tell you I was intially impressed, but at first I didn't much like her "bedside-manner". I hadn't even really "bought into" this whole "Maybe I have cancer" thing. Maybe I don't, thought Jon. Maybe I just want to "think about this". Thankfully, I put my ego aside and agreed with the doctor. Time inevitably will teach us all the same lesson - either willingly or painfully. That lesson is to accept that we need HELP and that we don't control our lives as we think we do. For me, the "pop quiz" was beginning. And I am forever grateful that Dr. Bryan was my "mentor". She is now a hero to me. 

In August 2021, my 1st biopsy with Dr. Bryan revealed the presence of a small level of cancerous cells in my prostate. She said "I barely found them" and told me "Active surveillance" for a year was next. So we "actively surveilled" - and I waited. Life went on as normal for me. I golfed. I did yard work. Continued enjoying retirement as I had been. Then this October, I returned for a 2nd biopsy with Dr. Bryan on a Friday afternoon.  And as they say, "things got real real quick".

Just 4 days later, Dr. Bryan called with the results, surprisingly soon. Bottom line: The cancer had grown significantly. We needed to determine how far and prepare for the next stage of treatment. Wowza. Talk about feeling like I stepped on a treadmill already running at 7 mph! So off Deborah and I sprinted over the next week to MRI's and Bone scans and my 1st serious introduction to modern American medicine since I was 6 years old. The technology is truly the stuff of science fiction. But thankfully, each of the technicians and nurses I met along the way were just as kind as they were competent and caring. In the end, the very good news was that the cancer was localized still and according to Dr. Bryan, I was a healthy and prime candidate for surgery and a full recovery.  The procedure was scheduled for Tuesday December 6th. 

It's funny that at no time during the month when all this occurred can I remember feeling nervous or scared. I just kept trying to do "the next thing". I guess it was like my legendary 1st raft trip down the Rogue River with Deborah 17 years ago. I was too naive, didn't know enough about what was going to happen, to be scared. I began telling close friends and acquaintances about what was coming up for me; every person I told was generous and kind in offering me prayers and healing thoughts. But even as I told them "I've been diagnosed with prostate cancer and am going in for surgery", I still couldn't quite believe it was happening to me. Kind of surreal. Felt like I was saying "I'm going on a trip to Nigeria. See you in about a month. Talk to you soon." Weird. 

"The best way out is always through." (Robert Frost)

The day of my surgery finally came. It was a long day; made long by the dietary restrictions I had to follow the previous day in preparation; long because I had to get up at 330 am for the drive to Providence Hospital in Medford for my check in. Long because I would be staying the night in a hospital for the 1st time since I got my tonsils out at age 6. Talk about sailing into unknown waters!

The official title of my procedure was a mouthful. Dr. Bryan and her team performed a "Robotic Assisted XI Laparoscopic Prostatectomy and Pelvic Lymphadenectomy with Bilateral Nerve Sparing". Holy Sweet Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. It lasted about 3 1/2 hours I'm told. Modern anesthesiology is truly like a "time-machine". One second, you remember being one place. And the next second, you're somewhere else with no knowledge of the "in between". But the consequences of the "trip" soon catch up to you. Oh boy. They did for me. When the time machine "cocktail" wears off, there's a "price" to pay at the station you wind up with. 

No need to describe the physical challenges. All of us have faced them. I had a few that day. But resisting the discomfort or pain never makes it "go away" - it only heightens it. Accepting it and bearing it is the only real option there is. And so I did, in true Finnish "Sisu" fashion. But if one is willing to do that, there are - I can guarantee - valuable gifts on the other side for the one who chooses to do so. 

"I have always depended on the kindness of strangers." (Blanche, "A Streetcar Named Desire", Tennessee Williams)

Experiencing the kindness of strangers - of people I had never met before - over and over again that afternoon and night of my surgery was the greatest gift I could've ever been given. Thank you to each of the caring nurses who tended to me Tuesday: Suzanne, Erin, Kaylee, Cynthia, Rheema, Milan, Troy, Paul and Sarah. Truly a cavalry of compassion. 

There were two other nurses who were true "angels in need" for me during my brief stay. Nanu was my "night angel". I'll never forget her gentle care and compassion while visiting me several times as I slept to record my vitals, give me medications, and to just talk softly to me as I dozed back off. And then there was Samantha, "Sam". She was my day nurse and guided me through the toughest physical parts of that day and was the one who prepared me for my departure the next morning. As I chatted with her, I was struck with the odd sense that "I knew her" already - and when I asked her where she went to school - I was proven right! Samantha was an ex-student of mine at South Medford, many years ago!! She seemed at first a little embarassed that I remembered her, but there was no doubt she remembered me. (She even recited a Gaelic greeting I once taught her class many moons ago!). I was deeply touched by this coincedence! Samantha/Sam had acted truly as my kind guardian for a day. I am deeply grateful for that, and couldn't be prouder of her and what she's doing now. That too is a little unexpected gift that the Divine grants teachers every now and then. Thank you, Lord. 

We all know who the Real Heroes are!

And at my side for almost every minute of this journey has been my best friend, my soulmate, my "small but fierce" source of inner strength and beauty: my wife Deborah. We were apart for just one night - our 1st night apart in over 5 years. But we were always connected in spirit. In a wordless way that can't be described; only felt. As our teacher Guy Finley once wrote, "Even in your absence, I can feel your presence." Amen. I did. 

We'll be walking again before you know it!

So now I'm home. Resting and recovering. One leg of the journey is done. More legs to come. I won't know the full results of my procedure for another couple of weeks. But I do know one thing for sure.

Life will go on. More lessons and challenges are coming, as are the gifts that accompany them. I plan on surviving and growing from them all. Hope to return here to share some more of them. 

"On y va" ("Off we go" in French). All is well. 

Having Fun With A Strange Game

 "Golf is played by twenty million mature American men whose wives think they are out having fun." (Jim Bishop)

Another entry in the category called "Meant to Do this Awhile Ago". Feels good to finally getting around to clearing out that dusty corner a bit...

Hi. My name is Jon. I'm a golfer.

Four years ago I wrote about how I was taking up this "new hobby". Well, it's no longer a "hobby"- "An activity done regularly in one's leisure time for pleasure." - as I casually noted in that blog entry. 

A near ace for me at my favorite course. Dutcher Creek. #4 Par 3, 142 yds.

Well, it's now official. I'm a full-blown, all-in, can't get enough of it, deeply addicted, aficionado and practitioner of this holy sport. Though not fully "ordained" yet into the Priesthood of Par, I'm well on my way to being a fully committed Seminarian of Swing.  A Deacon of the Links. Yes, A real golfer. 

One sign of how my commitment to the game has gone well past the "hobby" stage is just how much of the strange vocabulary/lingo of golf I now understand! Like all "deeply serious" vocations, there is an arcane, semi-secret jargon used by its adherents, that they all can converse freely in - yet leaves outsiders completely baffled!

So since I love playing around with words - and I love golf - let me take you on a linguistic tour! Here we go! (golf terms in bold).

I haven't had an Ace yet, but I've enjoyed a pair of Eagles and a bundle of Birdies. The Bogey-man still makes unwanted visits, and Double-Bogies are not "twice as fun". Fortunately, Frosty the Snowman hasn't visited me in a few years. 

“Golf is a game whose aim is to hit a very small ball into an even smaller hole, with weapons singularly ill-designed for the purpose.” (Winston Churchill)

I've hit all kinds of shots on the golf course (not always deliberately!). It's amazing how many different terms there are for golf shots (probably because it's so dang difficult to simply hit the ball straight!). Fades and Draws are good. Hooks and Slices are not. There are flop shots and stingers and bump & runs. You can hit it Fat or hit it Thin: neither is good. Nor is a Shank or a Worm-Burner. or when you "Skull" it.

When you hit something not so good, you may try to help the errant shot by yelling things at it like, "Bite!" or "Cut!" or "Sit!" or "Come back!" or "Get Lucky!". But from my experience, golf balls don't listen very well. Alas as some might say, "It takes a lot of balls to golf like I do"!

Sometimes if your playing partners are feeling generous, they'll let you hit a Mulligan or a Breakfast Ball. But don't count on it. Usually the best thing they can do for you is just pat you on the back and offer you some Birdie Juice. They may be your buddies, but they aren't your Looper. 

If you're playing and competing with your buddies, there are certain phrases you'd rather not hear such as: "Still got work to do there, Jonny", or "Left a lot of meat on that bone, Jon-Boy", or "Try hitting that with your purse, Alice", or "She's Gone".  And the worst might be the three simple words, "You're still away". 

But then there are the good holes when everything is clicking! When you take out The Big Dog and take a mighty swing and the boys say, "That dog can hunt!", and when the game is easy and you're Throwing Darts and Dancing, and then Getting Up and Down, and Sticking it in the Jar. 

And that's what keeps bringing us golfers back. Back to the links. One more time. It doesn't take much if you come to love the game, as one of my hats says. Just one shot. 

So until next time, see you on the links. Or on "the rails" as my wife calls. And don't ever forget the last thing she always says to me as I walk out the door to head to the course: "Have fun, and just "Hit the ball, Willie!".  Two real Pearls to carry with me as I keep playing this game...as is this:

“As you walk down the fairway of life you must smell the roses, for you only get to play one round.” -Ben Hogan

Let Me Write a Poem For You

 “Poets are simply those who have made a profession and a lifestyle of being in touch with their bliss.” (Joseph Campbell)

Deborah and I with Mom - June 2021

This is an entry I should've written a long time ago. 

It's been sitting around in the back of my mind like an old winter sweater; shoved to the back of the closet as the cold gray skies start to clear, and the warmth of spring starts to sneak out again. Something I've been meaning to do - but hadn't. Other sneaky sprites always whisper "You've got something better to do. You can do that some day". But now before the moment passes - and again I say "Some day" to the idea - I need to act. And so I scribble away.

This entry is in honor of my mother Mary Ann. She is 87 years old this year, and still one of the strongest, most loving, kindest, and most genuine individuals that I've ever known. I know she would dismiss each of those adjectives, but they are true. She is also a poet: a skilled observer of the world around her who, in the words of the American poet Allen Ginsberg "...sees with the eyes of angels". She's published 3 small books of poems she's written over the last 40 years. They are treasures for the personal glimpses they give into the world she's lived in...and into her heart. 

Whenever Mom writes me a letter (and she still does regularly), she includes one of her poems. Even though I have all of her poetry books, I still enjoy these little gifts from her. They always make me smile. So I want to share some of her poems in this entry to honor her. I'm likely to write more entries like this. It's too hard to pick just a few of her poems as my favorites. But here are a few. 

"God Play" (by Mary Ann Schnorenberg)

I am a god of creation
as I stand above my molten world.
I move my hand 
and golden rivers flow.
Shores of empty seas
begin to dry and bleach 
from the searing heat.
My wand moves
and yellow mountains heave
high and higher
Peaks tumble into valleys
and matter breaks and melds
Now! I make a smooth lake.
Now! Boulders form, protean shoulders of the world.
Alas!
I must end this god-play
and serve the scrambled eggs. 

Isn't that just an incredible piece of imagination!! Such imagery! And I've never been able to cook Sunday brunch without remembering this poem and enjoying my own "god-play".  Here's the next poem:

Mom - Featured in a local newspaper for her poetry, not sure when

"Busy Work" (by Mary Ann Schnorenberg)

I sit idly on the deck
with nothing to do -
But that's not true.
Someone needs to watch and check:

• And number the leaves that fall from the trees.
• And God bless the bees in case they sneeze
• And slow down the breeze that likes to tease the dark-eyed anemones waving so free.

Just reading that makes me laugh! Such a tumble of happy words! Busy work, indeed! I would volunteer for those kinds of "chores" every day!

And here's the final poem I'll share today. It was the one that inspired this whole entry. 

Mom and the 8 Siblings - 2019

"Let Me Write a Poem for You" (by Mary Ann Schnorenberg)

Let me write a poem for you

before the dark enfolds me

and other worlds call me home

and I do not know you

and cannot say your name.

Let me write a poem for you

when you were young and I watched

your sweet innocence

and knew you as my child,

and loved you beyond telling.

I have the poem on my desk. I read it almost every day, and am always touched. Sometimes it makes me sad. I know its message about the inevitability of death and being "called home" is a fact that draws nearer for all of us each day. So the poem reminds me to be grateful for the love and gifts given me right now. And to not take time for granted. I will not have "another day" to say and feel and love very soon. Don't fritter them away. Write that poem. Give those flowers. Say "I love you" now. Don't wait. 

Deborah and I with Mom - 2017

And then this poem also makes me smile lovingly. I have been given no greater gift than to be loved by my mother and now by Deborah. I was the first born of 8 kids. I don't know if children ever fully know the depth of the love parents have for them. I know I hadn't. But I have a deeper appreciation each time I read the 2nd stanza of this poem. 

Dad and I - Maybe 1959?

Mom and her "Pioneer" - 6 mos. old

Thank you for that Pearl, Mom. I too struggle to find the words to tell you how much you are loved. They fall short. But Love finds its way to the heart. For it is Love that has the eyes of angels. 

Remembering What's First

 Do you remember this scene from the 1990's movie "City Slickers"? Mitch (Billy Crystal) is suffering a mid-life crisis and decides to go out west with some buddies to find himself on a dude ranch, where they get the chance to lead a cattle drive. Mitch meets Curly, a grizzled old cowboy who, while they're on the cattle drive, shares the "secret of life" in this following exchange. Click below to watch it if you'd like.

https://youtu.be/PunAKEccqyU

Here's the exchange (if you don't want to watch it)

"The One Thing" ("City Slickers", 1991)

And that scene led me to reflect on something that my teacher Guy Finley had talked about - and that  I later gave a talk about in an online study group with other students a week ago. The key point was to REMEMBER THE RIGHT ORDER OF THINGS IN LIFE and to remember that I'm not the "Captain of my Life". There is a "Celestial Captain" (in Guy's words) that is already in charge, and that I'm meant to be in relationship with. 

At the end of his talk, Guy shared this beautiful prayer. It's posted on the wall in the main room at the Foundation. I remember reading it the first time I attended class here 15 years ago. It touched me deeply; so much so that I read it aloud as part of our wedding ceremony, also 15 years ago. 

In the talk that I recently gave, I reflected on what this prayer means to me now. I recognized it then, as I do today, as a beautiful reminder of the RIGHT ORDER - not just in my life with Deborah, or relationships with others - but with LIFE itself...with what is Divine...what is Higher...with what has GIVEN me Life.

So I wanted to share this beautiful prayer, and my reflections, as a way to strengthen in me the wish, and the intention to put into practice this "One Thing".  Here is that prayer and my reflections.

"ALWAYS YOU" (by Guy Finley)

BEFORE I DREAM, MAY I HOPE FOR YOU.

May I have the grace...the humility...to remember that this Moment has all I need in it. And thought, imagination, and worry just take me away from the gifts that are there for me.

BEFORE I LONG, MAY I REACH FOR YOU.

When I feel regret or frustrations, help me remember that YOU brought this moment to me. Help me remember the source of this Moment, and not RUN FROM IT. To stay in an uncomfortable moment - suffering it consciously - is to reach for what's Higher. 

BEFORE I JUDGE, MAY I LISTEN TO YOU.

In 63 years - and for all my life - you have never JUDGED me. Help me to stay watchful and silent when something in me wants to punish another.

BEFORE I RUSH, MAY I REST WITH YOU.

Let me consciously feel the rush of thoughts, of tension, of worry...and not be blindly pushed by them. Rather, let me be reminded to WAKE UP and remember that there is an "Eye" in all storms: a still part that is not the storm. Rest there. Let me settle into the disturbance and see something new. 

BEFORE I SHOUT, MAY I CALL ON YOU.

My actions will always speak louder than my words. Help me be an expression of patience; of kindness; of honesty...especially in those moments when everything in me is screaming that I have the right to be otherwise.

BEFORE I DOUBT, MAY I HEAR FROM YOU.

Help me take "the one step" that I'm sure I can't. We both know what those steps are and when I must take them. Remind me to listen - not to the voice that says "You can't", "Don't try", "Give up - what's the use!" - but for your voice which simply whispers, "I am Here". 

BEFORE I BRAG, MAY I POINT TO YOU.

Remind me to never settle into the comfort of my own certainty, especially about who I think I am or am not. In the end, life will always reveal the truth about myself: both that which is noble and bright, and that which is small and selfish. 

BEFORE I FEAR, MAY I TRUST IN YOU.

If I can just remember that I'm not meant to be the "Captain of my Life" - and that there is nothing about Life that is meant to be "fixed" - then what is there to ever fear? All storms pass. All that is good and beautiful is meant to be appreciated, and then let go of. That's life. 

BEFORE I ACT, MAY I REMEMBER YOU.

There is no Life outside of NOW. Help me remember this, so that in the words of the Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh, every moment becomes priceless. It's possible to "Breathe Legendary Breaths" and "Live Legendary Moments". But only if I'm here. Now. 

SO THAT IN THESE THINGS, IN ALL I DO, 

IT IS NOT ME THAT IS FIRST, BUT ALWAYS YOU.

I can't think of a better prayer...a better Pearl to record...and a more valuable life long Work for myself than to try to practice these things...first. 

 

Fifteen Roses

 "Love is, above all, the gift of oneself." (Jean Anouilh)

An original letter I wrote my wife today on our 9th anniversary. :-)

This year I decided to do something different. Something “one of a kind” for my one and only love. You.

It’s 2015. So today I give you 15 roses. Each bloom has a special meaning, and celebrates something special about you to me.

I brought you a single orange rose at work today to thank you for how hard you work each week - for us, for your son – and to remind you that even when we’re apart all day, you are ALWAYS in my heart.

The pink rose you see is to remember the year I courted you 10 years ago. Your beauty (inwardly as well as physical)…Your patience with a shy, kind of square, nerd of a teacher…Your passion…and most of all, your deep, strong love captivated me then…and still does today.

Nine of the red roses are to simply celebrate our years so far as husband and wife. Each of these years have been blessings to me: filled with joys and adventures…laughter that makes our bellies hurt…some tears…intense longings… quiet times shared…and always the knowledge that we are here for each other.  They have been the best years of my life.

Three of the red roses are there as symbols of my Love for all of you: Your body, your mind, and your soul. I have always loved you just exactly the way you are, and I always will. You entice me. You teach me. You touch me. My hand will always seek yours.

Lastly, I give you one white rose, as I always do. It celebrates Love, eternal and pure. It is a reminder of the vows I took on the banks of the Rogue River 9 years ago on a beautiful autumn afternoon.

“Deborah. I love you. You are my best friend. Today I give myself to you in marriage. I promise to encourage and inspire you. To laugh with you, and to comfort you in times of sorrow and struggle. I promise to love you in good times and in bad; when life seems easy and when it seems hard. When our love is simple and when it is an effort. I promise to cherish you and to always be faithful to you. These things I give you today, and all the days of our life.”

Happy Anniversary Sweetie.  May our love continue to grow.

Your Jonathan

"Goodbye Mr. Tamatea" - A Tribute to A Teacher, and All Teachers

"Teaching is not a lost art, but the regard for it is a lost tradition." (Jacques Barzun)

I don't know where to begin, or even what I want to say in this blog today. All I know is that I was deeply moved by something I saw in the news yesterday. It made me stop in my tracks. Open-mouthed and silent. Gave me goosebumps. Caused small tears to leak out of my eyes and my heart to swell.  It was this short video. Click the link below this picture.

Palmerston North Boys' School doing a Farewell "Haka" for a beloved teacher who had died

Palmerston North Boys' School Says Farewell to Dawson Tahana Tamatea

I have watched this now 4-5 times. Each time I'm stunned by these young men and their powerful display of emotion, respect, and most of all, love for their teacher. At the beginning, I'm almost always overwhelmed by the sight and sound of these 1700 boys, chanting and stomping in unison, their voices fierce and strong.

I know that the "haka" was originally a Maori war dance, performed to intimidate enemies and inspire the valiant. But it's also performed as an expression of deep respect at events, like Mr. Tamatea's funeral.  I think this particular "haka" is a version known as "Ka Mate", which celebrates the triumph of life over death. But I don't want to get all "academic" about this. I want to focus on the boys and what they expressed.

Look into their eyes as they perform. There is a genuine ferocity in many of them, but my heart knows it is fueled by deep sadness. They are roaring in an attempt to hold back the tears. They roar as one, disciplined and proud. They stomp fiercely with all their might - refusing to retreat or bow - yet in the end, step back in quiet acceptance of what they know they cannot change.

Look at the young boys in the front row. Some of them intensely throw their entire selves into the dance - and then anxiously turn and look for their leaders to give them their next cue. Look then at those leaders - the older boys in shirts and ties - who step forward, and deliver the schoolboys' final message of defiance of death. And then comes the final command, "Walk away, away!", followed by 30 seconds of reverent silence. Powerful stuff.

"What the teacher is, is more important than what he teaches." (Karl Menninger)

Mr. Tamatea must've been an incredible man. He must have given a lot to these young men in the 29 years he taught at Palmerston North. To have earned such respect and affection, I know he had to have challenged these boys, as well as shown them compassion. He was probably a "no nonsense, do your homework, tuck in your shirt, sit up straight, I expect your very best, "old school" teacher. He also was probably the last one at school each night... a coach... not afraid to look a boy in the eyes and tell him "I'm proud of you"...or share a booming laugh (probably at himself!) with a class. I'm sure Mr. Tamatea was an exceptional educator and man. The world needs so many more like him.

And then today I read an article that sobered me in a different way. The article came across on my Facebook page. It was titled "Why Is It That America Hates Teachers So Much?".  I won't summarize it. You can read it, if you want, through the link below.

"Why Is It That America Hates Teachers So Much?"

After reading this article, I wondered for a moment: Why would anyone want to be a teacher anymore? (especially in the United States - especially in Oregon).  Why would anyone want to take up, or continue, a career that seems so universally demonized and denigrated now?

And then I think of the boys of Palmerston North and the impact Mr. Dawson Tahana Tamatea clearly made on them. And I know that that is the single reason that teaching is still the noblest profession, and draws some of the most courageous and dedicated people to it that I've ever known.

There is nothing nobler - nor as sacred - as the chance to influence young people and to teach them what is really valuable in Life. I could list probably dozens of these "Pearls" that teachers give to their students, but I'll let you reflect on that. I'm positive you will be able to remember at least one teacher in your life who touched you some way positively - who taught you something you've never forgotten - and  who helped you become, someway, somehow, the person you are today. And you should thank them.

So "Thank You" Sister Lucy, Lou McCorkle, Bill Chapman, Tom Rohlffs, Frank Imbrie, Mary Carol Day, Don DeClerck, Barry Adams, Heinz Teubner, Roberta Hutton, Elden Kellar, Guy Finley and many more for all you did for me.

And a special "Thanks" to all those superheroes I have had the chance to work with - and the many who still toil away. I hope you're enjoying your summers - but it's not too early to tell you all you're appreciated for all you do in your classrooms - year after year.

Dan and Heather Woodward, Adam Drew, Kelly Burton, Emily Marshall (soon to be Brink!), Brenda Dufour, Kevin Dixon, Susan Kahoun Holt, Wendy Barrie, Mary Wieczorek, Pam McNulty, Andy Frye, Dan Keck, Amy Westerfield, Marilyn Ramone, Doug Potter, Steve Johansen, Ken Yarnell, Jim Lekas, Vic Wright, and so many, many, many more that I've had the chance to work with. You are "Dawson Tamateas" in your own right. I hope you know that.

"In teaching you cannot see the fruit of a day's work. It is invisible and remains so, maybe for 20 years." (Jacques Barzun)

Very true. But what grows from a good teacher's work has deep roots, and  it will last a lifetime. Just ask those boys in New Zealand.

No need. You can see the seeds that Mr. Tamatea planted.