Bonus Blog: Defining Moments, and the Peace Labyrinth

Given that I will be away during the time I usually post new Blogs, and given that it will take me some time to get caught up when I return from my trip; I am going to post this as a bonus Blog to fill in the gaps. It’s a story I’ve never shared with anyone, but one I have kept close to me since that day. I hope you find some value in it.

Late 07 and early 08 were very busy for me. I had just completed some projects, I was writing articles, and I had two DVD projects set to produce as well. Just after that was a planned workshop to prepare for, physically and academically. At the completion of these series of events and projects; I vowed to complete my book, Your Truth is Calling. I returned back from my workshop, put out the usual fires, and proceeded to write. I didn’t workout for nearly 12 weeks and committed all mental energy to the book. If my mind gave me two hours a day worth of energy, that is how much time I devoted; if my mind gave me five hours a day of energy then I was equal to the task. I spent most of the winter holed-up in my office completing the task that was a year in the making. By spring, it was more or less complete. I was looking forward to a vacation. For Annie and me, there was only one spot we could think of: Aruba.

Now Aruba is not for everyone. It’s basically a desert after all. But it sits in a quiet part of the Caribbean, with the warmest salt-water trade winds; the calmest of beaches, and miles of soft white sand. The crystal blue skies there; matched only by the crystal blue water, make Aruba a perfect haven for R and R: At least for us. We had been there before a few times, and agreed that this time, this was our destination. One thing we have in common is that we are both called by the ocean.

On vacations, we usually make a habit of keeping our typical up-early schedule. We get up, grab a coffee, and seek a new place to watch the sun come up each day; and repeat that at night to watch the sun go down. Of course the only difference at night is wine for Annie, and beer for me to witness the splendiferous sunset. Every trip we take to the Caribbean seems to have some kind of defining moment for us. All good ones. On a previous trip there, we had found a secluded spot to watch the sunset. We gathered our little chairs, our bottle of Dom, and got set up perfectly. There was no one else in sight. That scene was soon to be interrupted in a way that defined that trip for us. As we settled in, and the sun began to drift out to the horizon, out of nowhere appeared in the distance a stray dog. This is no surprise because Aruba is full of stray dogs. But not usually on the beach; and certainly not in what seemed like a completely secluded beach.

We watched back and forth between the sun moving off in the distance, and the dog moving closer toward us. It circled several times, each time in more and closer concentric circles. Such is the skittish nature of stray dogs there. As the dog gathered more confidence and came closer it was obvious the mutt was a female. And quite pregnant. She circled closer and closer. Finally she came to us, and sniffed around. This dog was so pregnant she could have given birth at any moment. In fact her belly pretty much scraped the beach sand, like a pot belly pig’s underside would do. She sniffed between the two of us. She had all the markings of a dog with no home. She finally moved toward my legs; sniffed again, one last time to be sure and then circled three or four times before laying herself right across my bare feet on the sand. There couldn’t have been a more poignant moment for me. Her bare belly had no fur, just skin and I could actually feel the puppies moving around inside her. I dared not move.

Annie got in the car and raced back to the hotel room. She cut up some food, grabbed a bottle of water and bowl and returned just in time for the best part of the sunset. We sat there, just the three of us; together witnessing another breath-taking sunset, my new friend sleeping securely at my feet. We fed her, and watered her. She gave us a look of seeming gratitude. It was the event that marked that particular vacation. Yes, for sure, Aruba was the place this time. And what moment, would await me to define this latest trip, especially with me feeling very much in need of the island’s calming effects?

Once we arrived everything seemed synchronous. It was indeed the perfect vacation as we always expect our vacations to be. We seemed to take to new but still familiar habits. We would get up in the morning, grab coffee, and drive around the tiny island; especially where the citizens lived. We love to witness a place while it still sleeps in the morning hours. At night we began a new habit. With so many strays always in the middle of the road, and us always having to wait for them to clear out of the way; we ended up with a new purpose every early evening. While shopping at the grocery store for convenient food for the hotel room, we also picked up a bag of dog treats. Every early evening, and even in the morning in the remote areas; if we pulled alongside a stray, we gave it a biscuit. After a few days, we were actively looking for them. It was a blast. The deeper we got off the paved highways, the more dogs we encountered. Most of them looked in need of a meal to be sure. One of the most comical sights we witnessed was a dog and a goat walking together like two misfit best friends, side by side, same walking cadence, and right down the middle of the dirt road in front of us. And we were just going to have to wait till they decided to move; if they decided to move. They could care less that we were a meter behind them. And we were content to watch such an odd site.

(I only mention this because of the paradox of that behaviour compared to the former me. A decade or so ago, these hours would be spent in a glitzy casino, seeking an adrenalin rush; or in an air-cooled private jewellery store, seeking yet another self-indulgence to add to my collection. But; back to the narrative at hand.)

Mornings offered even more. Annie and I found some great tiny and secluded churches. One of them almost ended up as the picture for the cover of my book, Your Truth is Calling. It is a tiny and secluded yellow church on the top of a hill. It is surrounded by a view of the ocean. But it is quiet and peaceful. It even has a rock bed in the back that is reserved for contemplation, meditation, or prayer. It is called The Peace Labyrinth. Everything seemed so in synch with the book I just finished writing. Everything seemed to represent it in so many ways. For sure this site had to be the defining moment of this particular vacation, I thought.

I wasn’t even close.

Over the next few mornings we ended up back at this quaint little spiritual hideaway. I would finish my coffee and then also drink in the magnificence of the site, and breathe in the uniqueness of the air. Only then, I would spend a few minutes at the Peace Labyrinth in quiet contemplation of gratitude. What an amazing vehicle of transport for inspiring each day: At least for me. One morning we went from the church over to the Natural Bridge and then to the Natural Pool. On the way back to the hotel, Annie needed to stop somewhere for a large diet pop. We were still in the back roads and as is our habit we just followed busier and busier traffic to find our way out. While still deep in the neighbourhoods where the citizens lived, we came upon a Wendy’s restaurant. We weren’t even sure if it was open. We were the only ones in the huge adjacent parking lot. As Annie went in to purchase her diet pop, the incident that would define this vacation for me began to unfold.

From a distance I could see a male figure, probably in his late 40’s, moving toward the area where I was parked. From that distance I instantly noticed what I thought was an incredible physique. He was shirtless, with only a pair of jeans for clothing. As he walked closer to me, his dark black skin glistened from the burgeoning day’s heat. Even from a distance his physique was obviously ripped, cut, shredded even, beyond description. Naturally since we were the only ones in the area, I kept my observing eyes upon him. He seemed oblivious to my presence even though, mine was the only car in the lot.

As he neared closer, a different perspective was forming in my mind. His steps seemed to be of a “shuffle” more than a walk. He was decidedly unkempt. And it was clear he had his mind on something. One thing. He moved closer to a dumpster that was all by itself in the lot. It was apparent the dumpster belonged to Wendy’s. This dumpster was different though from the ones here. It didn’t open from the top. It opened from the front, like new washing and drying machines do, but about 4 feet off the ground. He looked left and right, as if combing the area to make sure no one was watching. Then I observed an odd behaviour. He swung open the huge door to the dumpster, left to right; turned his back to it, slipped off his shoes, then dove into it backwards; like a scuba diver would do. I was puzzled by the unfolding of events.

Annie returned to the car at that time. I told her what I had been witnessing. (even though I am leaving out some details for you readers) I thought maybe he was sleeping off a drunk or a hangover, or maybe this or maybe that. But then again, you don’t climb into a dumpster in 85-90 degree heat to go to sleep. I had to check to see if he was all right. Something inside me, drove me to not mind my own business this day. As I got to the dumpster I looked down at his “shoes.” He had two different shoes, two different sizes, and no laces. I knew now why he seemed to shuffle more than walk. I opened the dumpster door side to side and was witness to what dropped my heart to the pit of my stomach. This man was wading chest-deep in filth and stench that I can’t even describe to you. He was smoothing over the refuse with one arm, looking for anything edible. You can only imagine the stench of 4 feet of garbage in one place in 90 degree heat, I tell you!

It took him a few seconds to even notice me. When he did, his reaction sank my heart deeper than my day knew possible. He saw me looking at him and immediately rushed to a corner of the dumpster. He raised both arms over his face as if to protect himself, and began profusely apologizing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll never do it again, please don’t hurt me.” Etc.
It never even occurred to me that someone would be beaten for wading through a garbage dumpster looking for food. But it was obvious this had indeed been a previous experience of his.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I said. “Let’s get you out of there and get you something to eat.” I reached my hand in, and pulled him out. He continued to apologize to me. As far as I am concerned, to this day, he had nothing to apologize for. I approached him after all. He did not approach me. I gave him some money and told him to go to the drive though window. With no shirt, and reeking of filth and garbage I wanted to make sure he would at least get some food. I told him to buy enough for the next day or so. He apologized once again. Annie and I stayed to make sure he got served. If not, we would go in and get for him. A few minutes later he emerged and walked through the lot, slumped down on a concrete parking block and began eating, shirtless, shoe-less, jeans at least two sizes too big for him, and he still had various tidbits of trash attached to various parts of his body.

The situation was too much for me to bear and I burst into childlike weeping and crying. You know the kind of tears where you end up gasping and gulping for air. I was just short of wailing to be honest. I was apoplectic. I pounded the dash of our fancy rental car: The obvious paradox of my good fortune staring me right in the face. As I often do when faced with realities my mind is still processing, I thought immediately of the John F. Kennedy quote that often brings me relief. “Some people see things as they are, and ask why? I dream of things that never will be, and ask, why not?” The reality of how some people have to live is never lost on me. It’s also part of my being to believe it doesn’t have to be this way. Right then, my mind captured on a sentence in big bold impact, even though it was racing to get out of my emotional bluster. “Do unto others” entered my mind and stayed there. Annie suggested, “Go to him; you can’t just leave him like that.”

She gave me a bunch of money that we didn’t even bother to count. Still inconsolable myself, I approached him again. Once again, he didn’t notice me till I was already upon him. He looked up at me and didn’t say a word. I looked into his eyes, and saw something I had never really ever witnessed before. Utter despair. It was obvious I was not going to change this man’s fate. I don’t have that kind of power. But I could, at least, right here, and right now, alter the circumstances of his day for the better. I helped him to his feet, in the middle of his meal. I pulled up his jeans. I wiped away some refuse from his skin. As I gave him a big hug, I slipped the money into his pocket and begged him to go and buy some shoes, and some clothes. And the same strange reply he gave me. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m so sorry.” Not “thank you” but rather “I’m sorry.”

His eyes met mine and he saw the tears freely flowing down my face. What I was actually emoting was empathy; yet what he saw in my glazed and runny eyes, reflected back on him as shame. That was the last thing I intended. He started to cry as well, and continued to apologize. I told him there was no need to apologize, but for just right here, right now, could he try to take care of himself, just today.

As I walked away he apologized yet again. I didn’t turn back. And a few more feet towards my vehicle I heard him say, “God Bless You.” I was stunned by the impact the sentence had on me.
I know a lot of cynics think, “Oh you give people like that money only to make yourself feel better.” Really? Well I can tell you I didn’t feel better. I felt emotionally stunted and trapped by the paradox of my perceived paradise and witnessing the spiritual decay of another human being. I could only pray for some meaning from this interaction. I’ve always believed one thing. No matter what I witness or experience, good or bad, I am always exactly where I am supposed to be. With that philosophy of spirit and fate, it was up to me to find meaning from this emotionally impacting event.

I was not myself for the rest of the day, contemplating on the moments that I knew would define this vacation for me. It certainly was not what I had in mind.

I tossed and turned on the event early that night. Then it hit me, and I woke up with one sentence fresh in mind; the sentence that answered that question of meaning and “why” One sentence, ran through my mind, the irony of which has not been lost on me, to this day: “Scott, Your Own Truth is Calling.” From there, the lessons and meaning came pouring in to me.

For what it’s worth, I’m going to share them with you now.

Like many people I mis-spent a lot of my adult youth pursuing one pleasure after another to satisfy. Over time I realized that satisfying pleasures, only led to creating something else to crave; some appetite to create in order to feed it. But as time went on; that mentality never actually led to any long term gratification. I came to realize that creating and satisfying pleasures, is kind of like competing and winning bodybuilding shows without ever having to diet or train to do so. Where is the meaning or purpose or significance in that?

I began thankfully, all those years ago, to question myself, and my various pursuits. A popular line from advice columnist Ann Landers resonated with me, and I wrote it down, and posted it all over my house where I had to witness it over and over again, to reset my mind. The line was simple: “Know yourself. Don’t accept your dog’s admiration as conclusive evidence that you are wonderful!”

I had been doing that very thing for so long, I was lost in it. Except, instead of a dog, it was clients and fans who built me up to the point where I built myself up, on very shaky foundations. For a time, back then, I was not a very good or nice person. All that really mattered was my own selfish wants and needs.

Redemption began to be my new purpose for meaning in life. I had/have a lot of ground to make up. I built on that trite Ann Landers comment, all those years ago, to more acutely ascertain, not only what I can do well, but I what I cannot. I used those as a staircase for discovery of my own personal calling. It’s not a calling to be wonderful or admired; especially for something as silly as my physique. It is a simple calling to just do my part; whatever that may be; and however it may unfold. I had been living a cheap cop out, never really challenging myself. From that point on, I had a new goal. I was no longer going to focus only on finding challenges equal to my strengths, but instead, find and develop strengths equal to any challenges. Or to put it spiritually; “I stopped whining to my God about the size of my problems, and instead I warned my problems about the size of my God.”

“Scott, Your Own Truth is Calling!” Indeed. I realized how much I had changed. I am no longer “trying to be” someone else. I finally “am” someone else. I spent a year writing “Your Truth is Calling” There was no editor, no publisher, no “what’s in it for me” motive. I felt compelled to write it; and that is what mattered. I am no longer asking “what’s in it for me” in my projects. I realize now I am finally asking, is there value in this project, for other people. My meaning and purpose has shifted. I finally get it. Every action in our life touches on some musical chord that will vibrate to the harmony of our chosen existence. For good or bad, the reality is that our feelings catch up to our choices over time. That’s a warning as much as it is a proclamation.

I finally am living in a way that serves. It’s a different mode of awareness is all. As George Bernard Shaw put it, “We are made wise not by the recollections of our past, but by the responsibilities to our future.” It’s not about what I expect from life that matters now; it’s what life expects from me that’s important. These Blogs for instance. There is technically nothing in it for me to write them. I don’t even claim to be a good writer. But yet, I feel compelled to do so, in that there may be some value in my words for the reader: for any reader. And that has purpose.

And the answer to the purpose and meaning of that provocatively emotional event that I was part of was more simple than deep. It was to show me, my actions and behaviour are part of my change. Maybe, there is no earthly “paradise.” Perhaps, paradise is an attitude you take within yourself. Perhaps that is all you are enhancing in a vacation or holiday experience. It’s more the realization of the inside-out of awareness that actualizes itself.

For me the new operating principles are simple. Maybe they are not easy, but they are simple. “To whom much is given, much is expected.” Or maybe even more importantly, “to whom much is given, much giving is expected.” Do unto others, means actually doing, taking action, being witness; not just wishing for things to turn out all right for the less fortunate.

For one moment, in one day, without contemplation, there was a call to action. Leaving would have been an action: Too easy to ignore life. And if I truly believe I am always where I am supposed to be; perhaps there is still more to it. The deeper truth is that we are not led to go only where kindness comes easy and already exists. Perhaps we are also called to go where fate sends us, and bring kindness with us. It may not be easy, but it is profoundly simple.

Bad things happen to bad people. Bad things happen to good people. Good things happen to bad people. Good things happen to good people. That is the nature of free-will. Yet generosity is itself a selfish act. Proverbs 11:24-25 clearly says “he who waters, shall himself be watered.” I seem to be living in that reality now. Finally.

In the end, Aruba still remains one of our favourite spots, and we look forward to going back there, maybe next year. And the defining moment of that vacation ended up being one of subsequent clarity. Wisdom need not be some deep-seated contemplation of meaning and purpose. What I found to be true in its simplest of forms is expressed by Jean Jacques Rousseau, “what wisdom can you find that is greater than kindness?”
If you find one, let me know. Meantime, since I am fortunate enough to be blessed with a life of favour, than I best live my life favourably.

Scott, “Your Own Truth is Calling” And I guess I've finally learned that spiritually speaking, once you learn how to walk, it's impossible to go back to crawling.

Some of you will get it, some of you will not.

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