THOUGHTS FROM CHINA- November 2015

 

Shenzhen - November 2015.

My first Shenzhen visit was October 1986.  Relatively vacant and flat, it was a fishing town located within the newly decreed so-called "Special Economic Zone."  

 

We landed in Hong Kong a few days earlier and then traveled by bus and crossed a small simple border station building to lunch at a hotel restaurant.  Across the waters more "town" was visible.  Skies were blue.  The air was fresh.  Inside the hotel sat samples from the Terracotta Army displayed for foreigners (us) to admire.  Bicycles and three-wheelers were the norm in those days.

 

Twenty-nine years have passed.  How many China visits and names of all the cities visited?  I can't say.  But as for Shenzhen, in place of the fishing village sits towering offices skyscrapers (mid-range / thirty floors), shopping centers and residential buildings, theaters, sports centers, and banks, banks, banks. Construction is constant.   A million cars and trucks (my guess) replace the bikes and trikes, now rarities.  Eighteen million people (fact) live within this one large spot.  Here ... Shenzhen ... only a part of China, immersed in the largest capitalist and market driven experiment the world has ever known.  It runs day and night, full force countrywide.  

 

Chengdu - January 2014.

Eight hundred thirty three miles north and east of Shenzhen rests Chengdu, home of the giant panda.  Administratively, fourteen million (people not panda) live here tucked against Longmen Mountain and the Qionglai Mountains that rise above central Sichuan province.  My first visit to Chengdu - January 2014.  No prior reference points: only the towers of 2014 attesting to modernity.  Over half of the world's Fortune 500 companies host offices in Chengdu.  Mixed into the swirl of humanity are disenfranchised Tibetans - contained, my description, by the energy of watching eyes: a government that wonders what would happen ... if ... if... if....  Chengdu - the birthplace of the world's first ever widely used paper currency.

 

Wenzhou - 2007.

Two hours forty minutes (current flight standards) due west of Chengdu sits coastal Wenzhou.  My visits: by now a few; with the first being August 2007.  I recall from that time.  Grey.  Industrialized.  Flat.  Hot.  Stale.  During the entire trip I saw only one star (actually, a planet).  One striking '07 memory: a lone woman gawked and laughed as she peddled past me on her bicycle.  Me, a strange-looking foreign outsider.  My experiences of that visit were recorded in a poetic piece "This IS China".

 

"This IS China" began:

This is China.  Yes, so are the other cities I've been to over the past few months - Beijing, Shanghai, Haining, etc.  But this IS China.  Large, urban, constantly moving. Not "getting ready for the Olympics".  Gritty city China.  Right now the sun is a large hot smog-screened ball burning through the haze scorching the skin.  I don't know it, the scorch, but I feel it.

Mid-course it read:

What do I notice?  Old men and women ... maybe not as old as they look ... walking underneath the freeway (I don't think it's called "freeway" here) scavenging wood into pots and bowls.  And I wonder, what will become of the wood?  What will become of them? Probably, the same thing.  What do I notice?  A man peddling a three-wheeled awning covered taxi cab (they are everywhere) and placing his right foot on a break attached to the frame above the front tire.

It ended:

After "star gazing" I went to a teahouse. Taken there by two of the students from the Samurai (Warrior) Game.  Both are business owners.  Wenzhou is a business/manufacturing center in China.  The teahouse was a magnificent and quiet place (and very un-Chinese) filled with valuable artifacts from all over Tibet.  All for sale, and some items priced as high as US$12,000.  The place is owned by a woman and a guy.  He's a devout Buddhist.  See comment above about "Higher Power".  We talked about peace.  I see what I get to see, when I get to see it and enjoyed the moment. An interesting trip.  Too bad it had to end so soon.

 

My last visit Wenzhou, 2013.  Susan Hammond joined me to successfully deliver our aikido-based program, The Art of Practice: an interesting undertaking considering the anti-Japanese sentiment within China.  Wenzhou, 2013, architecturally magnificent, with structures towering above the above, making for a skyline unrecognizable these six years later.  Look here, look there:  Bentley - Porsche- Rolls Royce - Lamborghini.  And then: Mercedes and Audi all so commonplace as to be, well, prosaic.  And then:  Buick, Buick, Buick.

 

Back to today.

From where the now-time Shenzhen and China have come in three decades is both breathtaking and breath taking.  On one hand - inspiring: people magnificently transforming a region in such a short amount of time.  On the other hand - disturbing: a rampant smog here in Shenzhen today is elsewhere, everywhere everyday.  There's always more than one side to every coin.

 

Hard to imagine the "was" of 1986, when our plane landed between the buildings of downtown Hong Kong - entry point to Shenzhen.  Today's Hong Kong airport outclasses most of the worlds.  Yes, Hong Kong retains its decades old Star Ferry, but the buildings and those of Kowloon and the expansive stretch of the "Special Economic Zone" with new cities, e.g. ShaTin, these define the physicality of "transformation".  Today most outsiders (including friends at home) have no experienced "real" clue about this place ... only clothing tags boasting "Made in China", with newsprint and talking heads proclaiming "the world's second largest economy."  Ask an average person on the street in Shenzhen, "Who is Obama?", and you'll get an accurate answer.  Ask an average American on the street, "Who is Xi Jinping?", and you'll probably get the same answer as if you asked, "Who is Ashton Carter?"  Well maybe.  To the latter question, instead of hearing "I don't know", you might catch "Jimmy Carter's brother(?)" - not "Secretary of Defense".

 

What is this China?  Where is it going?  Who knows.  Yes, problems loom, including some with serious health and medical implications that could possibly strain and drain the massive economic machine it's grown to become.  But the answer to the "where" question is: We shall see.

 

One thing for certain, China 2015 is anything but static.

 

© Lance Giroux, November 2015

   

From My Neck of the Woods TO Your Neck of the Woods.

Often the The Ronin Post articles are long. But for this month, we’ll keep things short.

First. Spotlighting two Allied Ronin Associates - Madeline Wade www.MadelineWade.com and Susan Hammond www.EaseIntoAwareness.com. Madeline, a Master Somatic Coach, has years of training and work with Richard Strozzi-Heckler, Ph.D. Susan is a Feldenkrais Method® practitioner with extensive experience. She too sports a Strozzi-Heckler connection. She holds third degree black belt in aikido and we train together at Richard’s dojo. Madeline and Susan have added greatly to the past success of the Allied Ronin Leaders’ Retreat. Susan is also instrumental in the delivery of The Art of Practice & the Organizational Dojo™ (AOPOD). In January we traveled to Wenzhou, China, and delivered the program there. On March 14^th we will conduct our third annual offering of AOPOD to Environmental Chemical Corporation’s leadership conference hosted for their executives, managers and engineers coming in from around the world.

I strongly encourage you to sign up to receive Madeliine’s and Susan’s monthly newsletters. How? Visit their websites and sign up. Through both newsletters you will find practical techniques and insights on how to keep yourself on track. Both will help you move through life (including physically) with less stress and less pain. You can’t lose with Madeline and Susan. Your body, your mind and your spirit will thank you. Plus, if you are in search of a good life coach, someone who will be spot on and connect beyond a cookie-cutter approach that (sadly) the coaching industry is fast becoming known for – then contact Madeline and see if she has space available on her schedule for you.

Second. The Allied Ronin Leaders’ Retreat. YES, there will definitely be more in the future - most likely shifting to a Spring & Fall schedule rather than winter & summer.

The Leaders’ Retreat has been off my menu since last year because the lodge at Four Springs Retreat Center (our desired venue) burned to the ground in May. Four Springs and its director, Tim Locke, have gone a long way to support the Leaders’ Retreat to make it something special and unique over the years. I want to retain the venue whenever possible.

Dr. Derick Tagawa, a past and frequent Leaders’ Retreat attendee, once described the Retreat as follows: “The Japanese have a word which summarizes all the best in life, yet has no explanation and cannot be translated. It is the word shibui. A person is said to be shibui when he or she contributes to the overall success of others without doing anything to make him/herself stand out individually. The Allied Ronin Leaders’ Retreat is VERY shibui!”

Third. I just returned from spending five days in the forest lands of the Pacific Northwest. There I had the opportunity to connect with some great folks. At the end of the trip I went fishing. Alas, the only bite to be had on the Skoocumchuck River was the one I took from my sandwich. That’s why it’s called “fishing” and not “catching”!

Two Cranes Institute www.TwoCranesInstitute.org was first on my list of visits. I had a wonderful meeting with the institute’s founder, Kimberly Richardson. Kimberly is keen for

the Samurai Game® to be offered in support their outreach to businesses, universities, and individuals in the greater Seattle region. It looks like this may materialize in September. Nothing yet guaranteed – but Stay Tuned!

BJ’s Enterprises was the second visit. BJ’s is the company that put legs under Allied Ronin back in 1995. They have repeatedly used our programs for their entire employee base. I’m forever grateful to Bertha Jane (BJ) Turnipseed and her family. Because of her and her staff, hundreds of people focus on and daily practice great customer service. Thousands of people receive that service, and they acknowledge that. Eighteen months ago BJ spoke on behalf of Allied Ronin. Her voice and the voice of her relative, Toni McConnell, were listened to by the Puyallup Tribal Council. As a result, Susan Hammond and I began delivery last year for the Tribe with two rounds of The Art of Practice and the Organizational Dojo™. Now, an aggressive proposal is on the table to continue for the future. Like anything in business, there is no guarantee that they will move forward. But, it is something worth sharing.

My third visit was to be an all-business-aside-ninety-minute-lunch with a good friend, John Pace. We’ve known each other about thirty years. We flown airplanes together, taken hikes together, talked deep issues together, and shared some of life’s joy and pain together.

You can read about John’s love for and dedication to his wife, Rashmi, in the Ronin Post’s article “Perseverance Part II” http://www.alliedronin.blogspot.com/2010/08/perseverance-pt-ii.html. The April 2011 Ronin Post article “Paragraphs: Life Lessons in Bite Size Pieces” http://www.alliedronin.blogspot.com/2011/04/paragraphs-life-lessons-in-bite-size.html spoke to John’s diligent efforts in correcting problems facing Boeing’s 787 aircraft, and the ramifications regarding managers who would put a financial bottom line ahead of safety and the well being of the public they are charged to serve.

On January 26^th in the middle of lunch, we found ourselves talking about leadership, public service and corporate governance, and of what we as a nation find ourselves listening to on the radio and watching on TV. We both agreed that our “news” in the US is lacking when compared to what we both have found when venturing across borders - whether that be to Canada, Mexico, India, China, Europe or elsewhere.

At one point John said, “You know, I believe that many, if not most, of our companies, organizations and institutions really don’t screen for leaders any more.”

“What do you mean?”, I asked. “Well,” he answered, “I think they are looking for are people who can best bully and push others around in order to increase a short-term bottom line or to just get some pre-determined way that’s already been interpreted as being ‘right’. I think the American mindset has mistakenly begun interpreting bullying as leadership. Yes, it’s important to have a strong voice. But bullying and leadership are two very different and distinct things. We’re walking on some dangerous ground here.”

John’s a thoughtful guy. He takes care in assessing problems and situations. He’s dealt with some intense issues, including - keeping his bride alive in the face of opposition from doctors who told him there was no hope, and doggedly persisting to correct issues facing the 787; refusing to allow management teams in their drive to push ideas that could have had disastrous consequences.

He continued, “If this continues, we’re in for some rude awakenings here in the U.S. Even politically. We’re not engaging in, or practicing, or expecting meaningful dialogue. We are missing the respectful exchange of ideas for the purpose of finding common ground for a better future. Very few conversations actually exist to solve problems. What’s become commonplace? Loud voices that just need be right in order to win. People dig in just to keep their opinions alive and profitable. Nothing gets accomplished. Nothing gets created. Nothing moves forward. It’s short-term thinking. There was a day when we in the US led the world with creativity. Now it seems we’ve become greatly invested in being polarized and being right.”

Hmmmm.

I suppose I could have written about something else this month. Like maybe, why I didn’t catch a fish. But given our current national discourse (and posturing), I’d rather us stew for a while on what John Pace had to say over lunch on January 26^th.

A gnawing (and disturbing) thought of mine for quite some time has been that we in the US have developed such a fascination with entertainment that we’ve developed some weird interpretation for what “reality” is. Entertainment and politics and business have all become enmeshed. We don’t get “the news” any more. We get “the repeats” with a slightly new spin. We live by and inside of sound bites. We don’t investigate or research what we find on the internet, or what we read in some passed-along email, or what we hear on the radio, or what we see on the TV. We are so used to being hearing some talking head (regardless of industry) say, “what you really need is” that we begin to think we really do need it! We are used to hearing questions asked by reporters that are never answered. And then the reporter just lets that slip on by. Why? We don’t have time for the answer because we’ve got to get to the commercial. And what happens when someone lies and actually gets caught on record? He or she justifies the lie, and gets away with skillful re-language, saying, “I misspoke.”

As a child I used to read Al Capp’s comic strip called Li’l Abner. Therein was a character named General Bullmoose. His motto was: “What’s good for General Bullmoose is good for the USA.” Of course, General Bullmoose was a fictional character. Just ink and color in the Sunday morning cartoon section. Turn the page.

Like it or not, John Pace’s voice struck chord at lunch on January 26^th.

What he said has merit.

It is something worth thinking about. Isn’t it?

My question is – what to do about it?

Nidan (Part II)

On May 1, 2000, I stepped onto an aikido mat for the first time. Some years later I began including aikido demonstrations and simple exercises into training programs for businesses and universities, and started bringing in qualified aikido practitioners and teachers to assist delivery. Why? Some of my clients had been requesting the Samurai Game®, but were asking for it to be delivered outside of design parameters. Their groups were either too small or too large, or they wanted delivery completed in less than the required time, or the situation was not appropriate for the Game. As a result The Art of Practice and the Organizational Dojo™ (AOPOD) was created.

This past June I separated my right shoulder days before my initially scheduled nidan (2^nd degree black belt) exam. The test was postponed until December 1^st. California Aikido Association rules require that an essay accompany the challenge. Last month's issue of The Ronin Post contained the first half of that essay, "On the Eve of Nidan". The remainder follows. It chronicles reflections I had on November 30^th, the day before the test. Aikido principles are transferable to personal and professional effectiveness for daily life outside the dojo and off the mat. The following principles and terms most occupied my period of reflection:

* Ai - Ki - Do = Harmony - Energy - Way, i.e. the way of harmonious energy

* Irimi = to enter into a situation

* Tenkan = to turn and look at a situation from the opposite direction

* Zanshien = the maintaining of a connection with all that is around you

* Onegai shimasu = a greeting or offer made to assist another learning

* Sensei = teacher

* Randori = being under multiple attack (i.e., all hell breaks loose)

* Kyu = any aikido rank below the rank of black belt, with 5^th Kyu being lowest and 1^st Kyu being highest

* Katate dore, irimi nage, kaiten nage, and kata dore = names of various techniques

* Uke = the "attacker" in a paired partner aikido training situation

* Gi = martial art training uniform

* Hara = body center point, about two inches below the navel

* Seiza = a formal way of sitting on one's knees

* Aikidoka = those who practice and study aikido

November 30, 2011

On The Eve of Nidan

Reflecting back to January 10, 1997. Mid-afternoon.

I am sitting legs sprawled, on Capitola Beach south of Santa Cruz. The sunlight is striking my face, as is a brisk sea breeze. The wet sand soaks through my trousers and puddles of water surround me. The tide is coming in. An hour ago my friend, John Gallagher, and I were walking over boulders and I slipped and fell. A horrible pain shot up and down the left side of my body. I heard my left femur split. John turned to ask, "Are you OK?" In hopeful denial I replied, "I think I've dislocated my hip." Broken the hip was, but broken I didn't want it to be.

John has gone to fetch help, leaving me alone. Down the stretch of beach a disheveled man with dreadlocks is ambling towards me. As he approaches I tense. I am helpless. Easy prey. Two things have kept me conscious the past half hour: deep breathing, and my incessant humming "Think of Me", a song from Phantom of the Opera. The man now stands over me. "Are you OK?" I respond," No, I'm not. I think my left hip is broken." He then acts differently than my fear has guarded me tense against. He extends an offer and asks, "Is there anything I can do to help you?" I accept his offer, "Can you hold my hand and help keep me from passing out?" He reaches out and we begin to talk. A little while later the police and paramedics arrive. My helper (training partner?) vanishes.

The paramedics assess the situation. They say the only way to safely get me off the beach is: first, carry me directly into the on-coming waves and beyond the boulders; second, move sideways parallel to both waves and beach; and third, turn and walk directly with the flow of the waves back toward to the beach. It's a painful journey full of twists, turns, bumps, jolts, laughter, screams, but it works. We get to where we're going. The next morning a surgeon skillfully aligns and joins together my split femur, wraps it with wire, screws a plate to it and then bolts the whole contraption into my hip. I live five days in a hospital and go home.

Three years later Richard (by now I'm calling him "sensei") introduces me to strange words which unfold into profound ideas: "uke" - a would-be attacker who ultimately becomes an ally to a life of growth (my stranger with the ragged hair); "onegai shimasu" - an offer made and replied to by training partners ("Is there anything I can do to help you?" "You can hold my hand"); "randori" - when we find ourselves in the midst of forces (waves and incoming tide) beyond our control, "aiki" when we blend with those forces; "get off the line" when we allow those forces to have their way, yet we remain in connection with our own needs and sensibilities and core values. Paramedics, I discover, know the importance of "irimi", and "get off the line", and "tenkan". And they get it that life is randori.

On a January day fifteen years ago, I sat broken and helpless on a beach, and was carried to an ambulance and was then pieced back together. I didn't think of that episode when it happened in the ways just described above - but I do now.

Reflecting back to May 1, 2000.

About a year or so ago I started bringing my younger two sons to Richard's dojo. He invited me to come here in the evenings to find refuge. The futon in the back is my perch from which I watch his classes. My sons snuggle and sleep on my lap. It's a peaceful place, yet filled with swirling energy and falling bodies. I like it here. Outside this building mine is a world of anger, disgust, judgment and disillusion - the residue of my second divorce.

Tonight, on May Day, I put on a gi and take my first official step onto the mat. I come face-to-face with a truth about me: I put ten units of effort into achieving one unit of result. How do I know? Within five minutes I am sweating and exhausted. No one else around me will break a sweat for another half hour, and some wont' even sweat at all.

Over the next few months it becomes clear (not because anyone tells me) that the anger, disgust, judgment and disillusion is a world I carry within. Who tells me so? I hear it in the same voice that told me three years ago to distrust a vagabond walking towards me on Capitola Beach. I've noticed that Richard Sensei has been weaving a discourse regarding life learning outside the dojo. He speaks of it as "to embody an ability to relax under increasing amounts of pressure." I begin to realize that in all the years we have been friends, he has never defined effectiveness as mastering ways to avoid life's pressures and problems. He's only spoken of effectiveness as an ability to enter well into conflict.

I didn't think of my life struggles that way on May 1^st, 2000 - but I do now.

Reflecting back to June 2001. The day arrives for my 5^th Kyu exam.

My youngest son is here to watch. He's a 10 year-old forth-grader and he has only just now learned to read. For him school is an exasperating and frustrating place. He knows of my education and he is aware of how smart his older brother is. Within him is a world of self-judgment and comparison is held. Himself vs. me. Himself vs. his brother.

During tonight's 5^th Kyu exam I find it difficult to remember the meaning of certain Japanese aikido terms. My front rolls look like falling timber. There are moments when I freeze. My back rolls look like tumbling cardboard boxes. Richard Sensei has to call out some techniques using English words. When my short span on the mat is complete I find myself in the midst of personal judgment and comparison - me vs. other aikidoka. But sensei declares with a grin, "You passed." Later that night as I tuck Alex into bed I'm curious to know his thoughts of my test. "Wow, Dad," he says, "You did great!" I reply, "Well thanks. But I barely got a D." From that day Alex begins to see his father and himself differently. Coming to my Fifth Kyu exam is part of a foundation from which, ten years later, he will stand and walk taller as a man. Though he's never stepped onto the aikido mat himself, a seed is planted that night from which he and I will appreciate each other and ourselves differently.

In 2001, I didn't think of a 5^th Kyu exam in this way when I stepped out onto the mat that night - but I do now.

Tonight - November 30, 2011. On the eve of Nidan.

Tomorrow is my exam; but it's also just another training day. Every day is a training day. Something uncertain happens. Every day is the test. No matter who one is, or what one does, or where one lives. What will I learn? I'm not sure. But I trust that my practice will be zanshien, so that I can learn from life's sensei - teachers that live in everything around me. I trust that I will irimi so that I can tenkan. I trust I will keep my base. I trust that I will move from my center, my core values, my true hara, and that when and if I don't that I will return to my center very soon. I trust that I will love life's ukes, in whatever form they take because through them what is (and will be) here for me to learn from will be revealed.

I may see things differently in the future than I do now. And I hope and trust I will.

© Lance Giroux, January 2012

Slow Down. Feel. Practice.

Papi set the cup down on a flat rock, shivered and extended his weathered hands above the flames. He turned and looked squarely thorough me. His piercing eyes alone could have spoken everything, but he wanted to ensure that he would be heard. His voice rose above a low whisper and he continued, "We have two sides of the brain, you know. Those who attend to only one side lose big time. We exercise neither our critical self nor our feeling self. And as for the body here in this country - it's become soft; almost a lost cause."

(from The Life and Times of Papi Conpelo)

[Continuing from October. Where were we?]

Saturday afternoon. October 2, 2010.

A soft morning landing and a nine-hour layover at London's Heathrow are now complete.

I'm aboard Egypt Air Flight 778. Fully loaded, we've been airborne for some time. Tuesdays With Morrie rests in the seat pouch. A microwaved meal has been delivered. The high tech touch screen video display on the seatback forward of me has at least fifteen options to chose from. I think, "Different airline, different films, I'll eat and watch a movie."

I reach for the earbuds. They fall to the floor. This being the last seat in the very rear of the aircraft, up against both window and rear bulkhead I'm stuck - too jammed in to move - no wiggle room to find them. What now? So I open my window cover and my jaw drops. There below me extends the broad expanse of the Italian Alps. The sun, dropping fast somewhere over my right shoulder, paints its way through clouds sending deep shadows to who knows where. All right here.

The scene is stunning. I've flown countless times above the Sierra Nevada. What's to be seen there is magnificent. But I've never witnessed anything this rough or steep, dropping so far and so fast. I sit transfixed above terrain I may never see again.

By 6:20 p.m. Flight 778 is 2,400 kilometers from Cairo and flying southeast over the Dolomite Mountains. We're due north of Venice and west northwest of Trieste. The Croatian coastline and the beaches stretch out below. Our route will take us to Pula, then Zadar, then Dubrovnik.

Cloud covered patterns float faintly over the Italian boot out my window. The jagged pattern of islands west of Krk appear. "You know," I tell myself, "I could be watching the in-flight movie right now. But why?" How many moments ago did the earbuds fall to my, "Aggghrrrh!". Yet, had that not happened all of this would have gone unseen and unfelt.

Saturday afternoon. November 6, 2010.

Sunny Oakland, California. Am arriving home from a week being with family of my friend, Mac. His life halted sixteen days ago. No one saw that coming.

Rain was falling hard when I left Seattle a few hours ago. That's behind me now, but it will catch me again tomorrow. The predictable weather patterns at this time of year inform this.

Mac's going gave us all pause: we who are family and friends.

How much time do you have? To look everyday and notice what's there and what's passed you by? Knowing this, how much time do you spend actively noticing? And then taking time to consider what all of this is teaching you? Ant then taking effective action on what you have noticed? Can you read the patterns of your practices? How about the patterns of our collective practices?

Tuesday. November 2, 2010.

U.S. mid-term election day. My vote has been cast.

Wednesday. November 3, 2010.

The elections are over; the ballots counted. Those elected speak. From both sides of the aisle we hear today. "What the American people want now is for us to roll up our sleeves and get to work." Wow! How many times have we heard that after an election? Isn't that what the public servants were supposed to be doing since the last election, i.e. get to work?

Thursday. November 4, 2010.

Lots of news today! Our print and electronic media is on the job to inform us that the 2012 election is already in progress and well underway. Oh well -- so much for getting to work.

A dose of cynicism grips me. The lyrics of "Patterns" (Simon and Garfunkle) come to mind. These words trumpet our continuing politics here. Don't remember? Never heard? Try http://www.oldielyrics.com/lyrics/simon_garfunkel/patterns.html. Another cynical thought floats by - sometimes, we really do live inside The Truman Show.

Saturday evening. October 2, 2010.

Egypt Air Flight 778 has entered Yugoslavian airspace. Sunlight splits the western sky above Italy. Below the world is gray. We are over Korcula and on track for Titograd. Someone has paid me to write this, but they don't know it. What I mean is: I wouldn't be sitting here today had not someone footed the bill. Would I? What about you, where would you be today if someone had paid different prices in your regard?

Another time zone. Another time. Two and a half hours behind is London. What remains of sunlight is blue on a far horizon. Names once legends in books are within view. Delphi to the west, and to the southeast lies Marathon. I find myself wondering, "What would the Oracle say of our world today, the way we live and respond?" I think of the original marathoner - Pheidippides - the Athenian herald who was sent running one hundred fifty miles over two days to Sparta when the Persians landed at Marathon, and then ran another twenty-five miles to Athens to announce a Greek victory. Who goes the distance today? Not the distance of running, rather the distance of practiced conviction and perseverance? Where would we be today without the GPS and the mobile phone, the iPad and our Facebook - and "You've Got Mail" ??. If we lost electricity for two days nation wide? If we had to communicate beyond the exchange of data? If we truly had to rely on our senses? We walk a fragile line - yet we don't respect how fragile the line is. We take tomorrow for granted.

A Friday evening. January 1975.

I'm sitting in the top floor meeting room at the Travelodge in Honolulu attending a seminar. It's almost midnight. Art Theisen, a large robust man with round nose, receding hairline and deep voice, is telling a story with great feeling. He talks of himself being a young brash pilot at the end of World War II ferrying aircraft across Europe: C-47's - the military version of the DC-3. Most of his planes were empty of passengers. But on occasions, he says, a person of importance would hop a ride.

On the morning of this particular story he gets word that two passengers will be his responsibility as he ferries a plane inbound to Athens. They are Helen Keller and Polly Thompson. He greets them as they board. Then he moves forward, goes through his pre-flight checklist, taxies and takes off. The flight will last many hours, taking an entire day.

Somewhere in mid-flight Art needs to relieve himself, so he walks the rear of the aircraft where a toilet is located. On his way back to the cockpit he passes his guests, glances down to consider what a pitiful life Helen Keller must live - not being able to see or hear or talk. Then he gets back to the controls and settles in for a non-eventful remainder of the flight.

Some hours later while he's sitting somewhat bored, Art feels the pressure of a touch on his right shoulder. When he turns to see what the pressure is he finds Polly Thompson.

"Hello", he offers.

"Hi", she responds. Then she continues, "Helen, is enjoying the trip. She just asked me to come forward to let you know. She also asked me to say how wonderful it must be to see Athens, and that the city must be golden right now in the rays of the setting sun."

Theisen sits is aghast. He doesn't know what to say He turns his face forward to look out the front of the aircraft. There below him in plain sight as it has been for many minutes (had he been paying attention), sits Athens ablaze in the light of a setting sun.

In the seminar I sit, listening to Art Thiesen finish his story. He says, "It took a blind, deaf and mute person, to communicate to this arrogant all-seeing pilot, in a way that I could see the beauty of what was there all along and in a way that I could hear."

What am I doing with the equipment (talents, eyes, ears, legs, feet, brain, voice, etc.) that is mine to use on this journey?

Saturday evening. October 2, 2010. A short while later. Egypt Air flight 778.

My face is against the plexiglass. Below, the coastline of Greece defines the Aegean Sea. Athens' lights glow brightly outside my window. On this course Cairo is not long off. I sit quietly staring. "You know," I say to myself again, "I could be watching the in-flight movie right now." A whisper offers, "But why?"

"Who are you without your toys? Are you paying attention? Do you care for and take care of yourself -really? When all becomes silent, can you tolerate the sound of your own thoughts?" I sat speechless. Holding me in his steely gaze, Papi persisted, "I asked you a question. Where is your answer? We have become addicted to toys and outcomes. Discipline and integrity, imagination and artistry, service and seeing what is there to be seen - we better watch out or these will become lost or totally compromised. And if that happens-we're screwed."

(from The Life and Times of Papi Conpelo)

©Lance Giroux, November 2010

"Coming to Our Senses"

A dear friend recently recommended the book "Coming To Our Senses" by Jon Kabat-Zinn, and I am slowly taking my journey through it. In so doing I'm recommending it (the book and the slow pace) to others. Last week while sitting at a local coffee house reading and reflecting I came across what follows (from p.70-71). Because this passage resonates with my work in general, and my CD "The Art of Practice" in particular, I wanted to make sure it is passed along to you.

"Thich Nhat Hanh, the Vietnamese Zen master ... aptly points out that one reason we might want to practice mindfulness is that most of the time we are unwittingly practicing its opposite. Every time we get angry we get better at being angry and reinforce the anger habit. When it is really bad, we say we see red, which means we don't see accurately what is happening at all, and so, in that moment you could say we have 'lost' out mind. Every time we become self-absorbed, we get better at becoming self-absorbed and going unconscious. Every time we get anxious, be get better at being anxious. Practice does make perfect. Without awareness of anger or of self-absorption, or ennui, or any other mind state that can take us over when it arises, we reinforce those synaptic networks within the nervous system that underlie our conditioned behaviors and mindless habits, and from which it becomes increasingly difficult to disentangle ourselves, if we are even aware of what is happening at all. Every moment in which we are caught, by desire, by an emotion, by an unexamined impulse, idea, or oopinion, in a very real way we are instantly imprisoned by the contraction within the habitual way we react, whether it is a habit of withdrawal and distancing ourselves, as in depression and sadness, or erupting and getting emotionally 'highjacked' by our feelings when we fall headlong into anxiety or anger. Such moments are always accompanies by a contraction in both the mind and the body.

But, and this is a huge 'but,' there is simultaneously a potential opening available here as well, a chance not to fall into the contraction -- or to recover more quickly from it -- if we can bring awareness to it. For we are locked up in the automaticity of our reaction and caught in its downstream consequences (i.e., what happens in the very next moment, in the world and in ourselves) only by our blindness in that moment. Dispel the blindness, and we see that the cage we thought we were caught in is already open."