DNA

The thread begins.  A subconsciousness sifting down through the ages.   Consciousness develops as the threads of the story weave in and out of each other, not always wrapping up in a nice tight denouement.  Life rarely presents itself in such clear continuity, nor are we always able to grasp it when it does, particularly at a young age or where we have become so distracted from engaging with the inherent deeper meaning of events, interactions and functions we are a part of.

Threads that take generations to work themselves out, information that rarely gets passed on in enough detail to really give an individual a clear idea of how he might fit into the bigger picture.  Maybe that’s what the holidays are for, connecting the threads, even if sometimes painful.  It doesn’t all fit into the redemptive narrative the way we might like it to.

I think about the threads of our families’ histories like I do the DNA threads that unite us from generation to generation in a longer and more meaningful history, filled with inspiration, encouragement and resolve about our place in history.  Even if somehow displaced, or without bearing, it is vital to discover and claim as part of our own and future journeys.

Born to two first-generation immigrants, Italian and Irish, with relatives in multiple countries, I was immediately exposed to an inordinate number of iconic relatives, all unique in their talents and exploits, and all who have resonated in some form in my own vocation and personality:  my maternal grandfather the engineer, my uncle the priest, my father the entrepreneur, my mother and aunts the adventurers, my maternal grandmother the writer, farmer and cook, my paternal grandfather the soldier, my other uncle the farmer, all faithful and brave.  I feel a part of the continuum as it recreates itself in me and through my very different, modern surroundings.  

I am now in my 50’s, my children in their 20’s and I see the thread passed on in them, even if they only see a glimpse of it as they seek to fulfill their inherent passions with indigenous spirit, affect and focus.  We seem to stumble into our fates more gracefully with age and with some indirect yet foundational expectation.

CATALYST

In two days I leave for the Camino.  I tell people what I am doing and the most frequent question asked is how long have you been planning this?  It's been on my bucket list for 20 years, but real logistical consideration was only addressed last year to my doctor before my hip replacement.  I wanted to be able to do this and the sooner the better.  I didn't actually buy my ticket until a week ago.  Preparation included working towards and watching my schedule, commitments, children, and my own head making room for this.  It seemed impossible at first that I could take so much time away with such limited resources.

Brierley's guide book has a wonderful quote in it. "Within the crucible that is pilgrimage a remarkable alchemical reaction takes place that burns away the dross we have collected in our lives - so that over time only the purest gold will remain."

It is a good metaphor for life, and death even.  In preparing, and not by any conscious design, there was such a palpable sense of letting go.  From what was important to others (details, planning) to making sure my pack was not filled with superfluous encumbrances, to my head and heart being freed from worldly cares that were ultimately insignificant compared to the value I placed on the journey.  There was prayer and support from friends and professionals, there was never a sense that I would be irresponsible to anything in my going, in fact, quite the opposite, I felt accountable to the higher calling that would ultimately serve me, my faith, and others as to what we sacrifice in life and to what end.

As most journeys, whether physical, professional or relational, they have served as a catalyst for better things, for myself and other people along the way.   I feel a sense of privilege and gratitude in being part of the growth and change that ensues in pursuing the 'gold'.

I know it will be challenging at times and I may even be cursing my participation at points where my feet are worn and my body aches, but it is no different than any other valuable task.  It involves joy and inspiration and communion with others, but also suffering, sacrifice and individual perseverance where our faith inevitably surfaces in new ways and with a new vision on the world, ourselves and others.

"The Way" is an individual journey.  I look at others without ownership or desire to direct their path.   Seeking mutual appreciation without expectation or obligation.  Cognizant of where we intersect and how each life is utterly unique and extraordinary in its own light.  The companionship we offer one another at certain times helps us with our direction and strength while we are trying to find our way, so as not to let the entrapments of the world compromise our souls.

POSITIVE RETURNS

Many people in my demographic speak of less tolerance for things that that we once had more patience for.  Pre-retirement seems to be a time when opinions and activities get more defined and less pliable.

Part of finding “happiness” or contentment, within ourselves, particularly as we age and concede to our limitations, is to figure out what in life continues to offer us positive returns.  We attempt to hang onto a remnant of what once did it for us, when it is clear that we can no longer find peace or joy there.  People have come to know us in relation to those things, that they have a hard time seeing us elsewhere, or want to help us find the new passion that drives the day.

Tools and advice are ample.  Spend time with friends, take up a new hobby: painting, golf, rock climbing…  All worth a go, but what if none of that will stick?  What if the thing that works for you is completely unconventional and contrary to most everyone else’s thoughts and expectations?  What if you find your solace in nature, don’t absolutely require the same finer comforts that your peers do, and your bucket list is filled with things that might get you dirty and left at the whims of fancy far away from the nearest touch screen and one-click shopping?

So here I am, a bit of a broken soul ever since inception and I have always sought the countercultural for the space and freedom it affords.  I like to work when no one is working, I like to travel when and where no one is traveling.   I have a hard time falling in line with the masses as they are led by something other than what provides positive returns for everyone.  Positive returns seem to come most when I am offshore in my canoe, hiking a mountain, getting lost in music and dance, riding my bike in the middle of nowhere, just me and God’s awesome creation filling the air around me, and with the occasional like-minded souls that I meet along the way.  They also come in places I have talent but reluctance in.  Work, drive, vision, perseverance, creativity, strategy and ability to make just about anything happen without limitation or compromise.  Those are really cool things to be able to apply, but for the most part they are dry and without continuity.

I am fortunate to still find ways to positive returns, even though it is difficult at times to dig and discover them with the world streamlining us in a certain direction.  With more navel gazing than most would be inclined to, and with some additional reservations in play with age, the world out there is still to be acted upon, just as it always has been.  Crossing oceans, pursuing goals unlike many others, it has always been a part of me.  I see the concern, and I feel the anxiety of stepping into the unknown, but I also know to overcome those in trust that the reward is there, as it always has been, more than I ever could expect or imagine.  Thus I go to the adventures that await a little gentler on myself for the wear.

AMERICANITIS

Hale called it Americanitis: how American society provides adequate fuel for stigmas of minorities, low self-esteem, deification of illusions and suppression of progressive change.

So I go back, back before there were stigmas, before I realized how messed up life is, but rather how unique, before the hurt, the fear, the loss.  I go to when I dreamed of flying, I go to running in the fields with the dogs, running against a stone wind and jumping so that I might feel a lift.  I go walking in the woods, damp and green with moss and chipmunks.  I go to secret blueberry caches, to a garden full of hidden treasures.  I go to distant lands and see the cultures, learn the languages and that is all the good, all there should be.    

That is where I am, who I am. In light of that, let’s evaluate goals:

Family & home: establish a primary relationship
enjoy others when you can
support boys emotionally

Financial & Career: prepare for retirement
maintain adequate standard of living
produce for next 5 years

Spiritual & Ethical: continue to serve
love others
do no intentional harm

Physical & Health: keep working out (stretch, strength and cardio)
manage bad habits (eating and drinking)

Social & Cultural: go out 2x/wk
travel as much as you can

Mental & Educational: read 5 books a year
write

1987 TRANSATLANTIC

Leaving Montreal’s inconvenient and expensive Mirabel airport in the 80’s in a new pod.  Funny how people can make absurd decisions that affects the entire globe and redirect millions of dollars to a useless purpose and get away with it, but when I told people I was crossing the Atlantic in a 42’ sailboat with two other people, they thought I was insane…  :)

This is not a tempestuous mariner’s tale or a story of survival against the lady with the green eyes.  It is one person’s journey out of the chaos of her life, sailing merely being the ‘vessel’ to facilitate it.

It started at the Montreal Boat Show in February of 1987.  Like many Canadians, I am sure, I embraced a dream of getting a sailboat, a womb, to deliver me to a habitable tropical island somewhere in the South Pacific.  There was a booth there for an outfit called “Voile Aventure” who offered charters to isolated places.   I inquired about prices and was dissuaded.  I then asked if it was possible to work on any of the ships.  No, they weren’t hiring, but, there was a boat in the Grenadines that would need crew to take her back to France come the summer.  How much would that 6-week trip cost?  $800CAD.

Done!  My girlfriends were coming, of course.  Who could turn down the white sands of the Bahamas, the pink sands of Bermuda, the black sands of the Azores and the grey rocks of Marseilles?   I ended up on the plane alone.  In a way relieved that I didn’t have to be responsible for the higher maintenance needs of some of the girls.

Starting out, there was only the French Captain, Olivier Tommelleri, and Denis Goulet, a French Canadian with fresh water sailing experience.  Olivier had been with his girlfriend Brigitte for a year crewing on the boat and she flew back to Marseilles to be with her son earlier.    Denis was married, but decided to do the Bermuda-Azores leg of the trip with a third party.  I was on sabbatical from men and fresh out of college with a degree in Philosophy that proved difficult to market.  Tired of majoring in bartending and minoring in limited real estate sales as a vocation, I needed a break.  All in all, we were well-suited to one another in terms of our individual and mutually exclusive boundaries.

Our first dinner together was unimpressive.  Olivier did not seem particularly enthusiastic about our trip.  He was certainly unhappy without his girlfriend and hardly spoke a word.  Denis was all smiles and I spent half the dinner explaining to him that the lime that came with his fish was not a green lemon, but an actual lime.  I don’t think he’d ever seen one before.  No wonder the whole world thinks Canadians live in igloos and drive canoes to work.

As the late arrival, I was left with the forward cabin.  Denis and Olivier took the two aft.  That first night I realized the boat was infested with roaches. After a few more nights of disgust, I finally got used to them.  After all, they were the only other creatures around for hundreds of miles at times, and they often made better company than the rest of the crew.

I was given the 2am-6am and 2pm-6pm watches.  Not sure what kind of deal that was, but I slept soundly and vividly around those watches nonetheless.

Our second day out we caught a good wind out of the east that rendered the toilet inoperable.  Funny how easily things can impact comfort or even survival at sea.  My efforts at discretion were not reciprocated in the slightest.   When one of these men needed to relieve himself, or shower, I would go below and keep myself busy.  When it was my turn, I tried to plan in their absence, but Olivier and Denis inevitably found their way on deck to check things out, be it an ice cold bucket shower on the poop deck, or my morning constitutional.  Oh, wouldn’t the girls love this.

This trip was meant to remove me from my environment and give me a clearer, more objective view of my future path.  So far, I had progressed only as far as an acclimating to my new environment.  I was enjoying the change, however temporary it was.  We were entertained by the usual dinoflagellate glow of the water at night, and got over-excited by the limited SSB squawkings, whale and dolphin sightings.

On our entire approach to Bermuda we had a hard time staying dry from all the spray.  We surfed the following seas and could get an extra 3 knots out of a good wave.  We were scheduled to reach Bermuda at night and I had every confidence that our Captain 1. knew the way in, 2. knew the protocol for arrival and 3. had the tools and ability to enter safely into the harbor.

My first inclination that things were amiss was his request for the copy of “The Atlantic Crossing Guide” I had picked up from an Armchair Sailor store to familiarize myself with the general voyage.  As the title suggests, it is merely a guide.  An out-dated one at that, with crude over-simplified maps to various points of interest.

I could tell he was’t completely confident with which channel to follow, given the minimal navigational information available and so he asked me to get on the radio to the Harbormaster since he did not speak English.    The extent of my experience at the time with a VHF on the water was limited to engaging drunken Bridgetenders.   The conversation went something like this:

Me (M):  This is the French sailing vessel  “l’Arbre du Voyageur” (an old idiom for the word ‘mast' in French) calling St. George’s Harbormaster.
Olivier (O): (in French)  Ask them which is the cut to get in
M:  The Captain would like to know which passage is the entrance to the harbor?
Radio Tower (RT): (with proper British accent) What is your position?
M:  We just passed light #…
RT:  Well, the (so & so) light is not functioning and if you are not familiar with these waters, we strongly advise you not attempt the passage
M translates to O
O: Describe to him the passage in front of us and ask him if that is it
M: Yes, Radio Tower, um… We are near some rocks and there seems to be a narrow cut that looks like it might take us in, but there are no markers
RT: (after a long pause) Where is your Captain?
M:  He’s here, but he does not speak English
RT:  What is the make and size of your vessels?
M: It is a 42’ GibSea
RT: Port of Registry?
M: Marseilles, France
RT:  What kind of survival equipment do you have on board?
M asks O
M: A life raft, some life jackets, flares
O gets annoyed with all the questions and tells me to end the communication
RT: We need names of all the passengers on board
M responds
RT: You cannot come into the harbor without checking into Customs and Immigration first, nor can you anchor here without doing so first.  You will have to stay where you are for the night.
O gets angry and asks me to sign off

Thoroughly embarrassed and frustrated  I sign off I head up top.  Olivier then tells me I had to help him find our way in because he is blind in one eye and has no depth perception, but damn the English, we are going in anyway!

The waves were still 15-20’ high with winds at 25-30 knots.  There was spray everywhere and as we closed in on land Olivier and I turned to see a large light in the sky accompanied by a very loud whining noise.  Out of the clouds, an airplane was coming in for a landing on a steep decent to a strip on the shore that must have been directly in line with our boat but not visible from our position.  Olivier dove into the cabin for the spreader lights, the spotlight and the planes right wing dipped to accommodate out mast.  In spite of the strong wind, we still felt the draft from the aircraft a smelled the fuel.

Somehow, we made it in and anchored for the night.

After a good scolding from Customs and a reprovisioning, I climbed the hill to the radio tower to thank the man I had spoken to.  He was not there.  I could only leave a note thanking him for his assistance and apologize for polluting the airways with my lack of protocol.

We picked up Denis’ girlfriend and we were off to the Azores.

Bermuda to the Azores took 17 days.  I rained the entire time and we were followed by 40-60’ rollers the whole way.  When I opened my eyes the second morning, the hatch above me was submerged.  A huge cash and vibrations made me think we had hit something very large.  I made my way up top only to find Denis standing completely naked at the wheel wearing nothing but a blue safari hat and a cigar protruding from under his mustache.   The image might have bothered me more if I hadn’t been distracted by the great wall of water behind him that looked like it was about to engulf the entire boat.  Another crash!  I looked to the bow and it was submerged again, and losing its grip on the wave passing in front of it.

I moved my sleeping bag into the main salon where I could minimize the effects of levitation between crests.  Unfortunately that location also came under attack when a pot of left over mac and cheese came flying out of the sink and onto my head.  I donned my long johns, baseball cap, fowl weather suit, walkman, boots and safety harness.  My hands were soaked on the wheel and easily lost their grip as the motion of the waves lifted me up off the deck.  Force 7 winds and Olivier was delighted with the time we were making to get him back to Brigitte.  Ah love…

My spirits were waning with every passing day and I considered going home after the Azores.  My tooth ached, I was cold and wet, the food was dwindling and the boat was getting less functional the further we went.

I turned 24 about half way to Horta.  I had a few thoughts of moving to Toronto and finding a decent job, but then I got to feeling cold and wet again and wrote a poem:

Ode to the Transat (it rhymes in French)

I am sick of being at the wheel
All wet and wanting to vomit
I don’t want to be on the sea
Without sun or sleep
Take me back to my bed
I beg of you

To the point, no?

We were on a starboard tack for about 4 days which got annoying.  I thought the French Canadian couple would surely get ill from all the rancid hame they were eating.  I contemplated insanity for a few hours.

Finally, two days out of Horta the weather started breaking.  We saw the good omen of dolphins and even talked to some sorely missed ships on the horizon after 15 days without another soul.  That night I started thinking about Marine Biology.

We landed in Horta, reprovisioned, said goodbye to Denis & Co. and greeted our new French companion, Andre.  He had the demeanor of Chauncy Gardener and a very dim view of women, especially on a boat.  I never thought I could embrace a lack of romance as I did on this trip.  Andre did not bathe until we were pulling into Marseilles harbor 11 days later, which Olivier fortunately had some familiarity with.  Andre’s wardrobe... well, at least he had one.

As the trip was coming to an end, I started to feel nostalgic.  I felt this should only be the beginning of an epic adventure I did not want to come to a close.  I wrote in my journal by a full and bright moon in waters where historical battles had been fought and many lives had been lost.  Each day of the last week at sea I removed a bracelet from my wrist and cast it into the sea.  They were ragged old things given to me by people in my past life.  We passed through the highly-trafficked narrows of Gibraltar with a few close calls and headed for the Gulf of Lions.

Fresh fruit was my first objective when we landed in Marseilles.  I  found a beautiful box of cherries and was walking them back to the boat to share with the rest of the crew when WHAM!   I got hit by a motorcycle while crossing the street to the marina.  Cherries went flying, my hip was bruised and I was limping, but not concerned enough to heed the suggestions of other and make me want to go to the hospital.  I was leaving and could see a doctor back home.  I was two days early for my return flight home and did not even care to stay in Paris.  My desire to remove myself from the world had been met.  In 7 hours I flew what took me 42 days to sail.

The voyage changed me.  I wasn’t sure of the change’s permanence or effect at the time.  Over the years it felt more like an introduction to a side of me that many could not appreciate, a side that wouldn’t always want to be lived out to such an extent, but would need to be given life once in a while.  I felt less concerned about other people’s opinions of me.  I felt an initial loathing for the hustle and bustle of civilization that waned after a while.   

I returned to Montreal and enrolled at Chapman School of Seamanship in the fall.  There I found familiar souls, romantics of a different sort by nature.  Fresh out of there, I headed for a Trans-Pacific out of San Diego, now knowing how to communicate ‘professionally’ over a VHF.  But that is a whole different adventure!

OVERCOMING DROUGHT

Just like the seasons, life brings times of fulfillment and creativity, or attrition and what feels like an absence of life.

Over the last year, many events beyond my control have put me in a place of coping.  What do I need to do today to make it a great day, rather than, “It’s a great day!"  I’ve been sitting on this bench for a while, my life having shrunk to meet the challenges of emotional and physical limitations.  My enthusiasm for spiritual life tends to correspond to those limitations.  Reluctantly, I find myself attending a service more out of convenience that devotion.  Coincidentally, it always seems to happen on the 1st Sunday of the month when my church offers communion, always bringing up the notion of confession and cleansing before partaking in the Eucharist.

Aside from holiday events, I’ve been sitting in the same pew, on the same side of the aisle amongst the same people for the last 7 years.  The crowd today was larger than usual and there was no room in my pew or the pews around it.   My eyes had to scan further up and across to a sparser area, where I found a new perspective on the podium, the choir and my old place.  It was a welcome perspective that made me reflect on how I have been stewing in the same place for a long time, and that a change is welcome.  I do not want to be stewing in that place any longer.

The sermon was appropriate in terms of considering our prayer life and what it avails.  Truthfully, my prayer life is all over the place, from moments of intense worship and praise to exasperated and desperate pleas for intervention.  The pastor spoke about how we engage in prayer represents our definition of God.  Indeed, at times it would seem blasphemous to try to replace a view of God that we have held onto for most of our lives or have been taught the limitations of.  Then, I was transported to a very impactful AHA! moment of my life, where that exact thing happened, a wall was broken through and I was released into a new relationship with my Lord.

Four years of intense training in Clinical Pastoral Education gave us ample opportunity to dig deep and openly among trusted peers.  The extreme nature of care in a Level 1 Trauma facility makes one rely a great deal on other resources, but there are times when those resources do not seem like enough.  It was during the latter part of my residency that I was sitting among a circle of 6 peers and a supervisor, all ministers, and openly admitted that sometimes God is not enough.  Not for me, not for the patients.  It felt like I was admitting to a lack of faith and defeat under the circumstances.  It was not so.  It was my own limitations that were defeated, and I recognized my egocentricity almost immediately.  God was and is and will always be, regardless of my definition of Him.  How presuming for me to think that I could imagine the depth and breadth of His person, based on my own interpretation of Him.  I was catapulted beyond the teachings of my seminary education, beyond my childhood traditions, beyond my personal experience into something so as barely to put a finger on.  Fortunately, still something even greater.  It was freeing and hopeful in the midst of despair, as it has to be if we are to turn to Him in our lives, in our world and in our death.

I am grateful for these threads of a new bench on which to rest and a new perspective on God which have come around again.   Finally, I feel some healing under way.  It is spring, timely as it is to suit the mood and the coming celebration of the resurrection and I choose to trust God in His mysterious unfathomable leading.  Seasons prevail and with each one we grow and harvest what we can until the final harvest that opens us onto the eternal spring.

CAMINO PRE-CHECK

This is straight from the Camino Guides Online Self-Assessment:

o How do you differentiate pilgrimage from a long distance walk?

AJ:  A long distant walk does not necessarily include spiritual meaning, though it may have spiritual value.  There is more of a sense of being a tourist, viewing, more of the physical external rather than seeking for inner enlightenment or growth. A pilgrimage is a journey that I would think would reflect metaphors in life in its length and breadth, helping us retreat from the conventions of whatever context we come from in order to become part of a greater more inclusive one.  I expect that I will not want to return, and in my return will seek to harness the meaning in my ‘normal’ environment and circumstance.

o How do you define spirituality – what does it mean to you?

AJ:  I am a Christian who has followed a winding path to what is now my current spirituality.  I see it as an integral part of who I am, I see my limitations in being disciplined in my practices, as important and easy as they may be to access.  It is a conscious choice of submission to something greater, which means setting aside our self-importance and being pleasantly relieved and sustained by the resources at our disposal.  It means the difference between hope and survival and despair and defeat.

o How is your spirituality expressed at home and at work?

AJ:  I have my books and symbols. I try to spend time reflecting on things in such a way that would help me address people and problems from a greater perspective.  I talk to God throughout the day, for lack of other being that would see things the same way.  I try to honor the truths and lessons of the Bible, because they have helped me in life more than trying to live by any other way.


o How can you distinguish the souls agenda from the ego’s script?

AJ:  The soul’s agenda seeks and receives without plan or expectation.  The ego’s script seems to control and have certain results based on an engineered life.

o What do you see as the primary purpose of your life?

AJ:  My primary purpose over the last 20 years has been to try to raise my children in very challenging circumstances.  That is my priority and I feel God has supported me in that respect.  My primary purpose as I move forward is to continue helping the world in the ways I can and have talents for.  Much of the definition of this is in flux and part of the reason for why I am embarking on this journey.

oAre you working consciously towards fulfilling that purpose?

AJ:  Yes.  I am active in several charitable missions, although I feel like I am limited in seeing the fullness of it because of the society I live in.

o How clear are you on your goal and the right direction for you at this time?

AJ:  I am going forward in the way that is being laid out for me.  I don’t see too many options.  I pray that God makes my path clear, and even in it’s lack of clarity, I feel it is evolving as it should.

o How will you recognise resistance to any changes that might be required of you?

AJ:  I will feel a pit in my stomach, a recognition of a need for self-examination, and a determination to address those changes as best as I can.

o When did you first become aware of a desire to take time out?

AJ:  As early as I can remember.

o What prompted you originally to go on the camino?

AJ:  It was something I had heard or read about a long time ago during other travels, I kept reading about it over the years, and put it on my bucket list for a time when it was possible.  Many, many years later, I feel the time has come.

o Did the prompt come from something that you felt needed changing?

AJ:  The prompt came from change itself.

o Make a list of what appears to be blocking any change from happening.

AJ:  Nothing, change is happening.  Change always seems to happen more for me than most.  Change for me would be shifting to no change, and I don’t know if that is possible in life.
o What are the joys and challenges in working towards your unique potential?

I get to experience new places and people, use my gifts and body in the pursuit of something great.  My health is not perfect and I do not know how several weeks of walking will affect it.  I believe withdrawal from my daily routine will be a big challenge as there are many things underway at home that I am usually used to keeping an eye on.  My father worrying about me, me worrying about my children.  Some times when I may feel like quitting, but honestly, I see this as a huge reprieve and much needed retreat from many of the things that have weighed me down in life for so long.

oWhat are your next steps towards fulfilling that potential?

AJ:  Trying to take care of everything I can before I go in a way that will allow me to be more present and enjoy the Camino.

o What help might you need on a practical, emotional and spiritual level?

AJ:  Advil, comfortable shoes, stretching, training, friends and colleagues to support my endeavor, prayer for strength, peace, and health.

o How will you recognise the right help or correct answer?

AJ:  Things will come together, I will persevere.  Truth will be revealed in a way that I recognize it according to God’s word.


o How aware are you of the following? Score yourself on a level of 1 – 10 (10 being very aware etc) and compare these scores again on your return from the camino.

oAwareness of your inner spiritual world:

AJ:  8, most of the time it is a mix of dark and light, I would like to see more light in it

o Confidence with your intuitive sense of knowing the right direction:

AJ:  8, although it seems to be the road less travelled, I’m ok with that, and I think I will find comrades in this respect on my journey

oClarity on what inspires you and the capacity to live your passion.

AJ:  8, I cannot always define what inspires me in people and in life; energy, a sense of adventure, a sense of humor, a greater sense of being.  The capacity to live my passion is coupled with a complete incapacity to live a life I am dispassionate about.  Perhaps that is why I am always surrounded by change, needing to be creative about the world in meaningful ways that do not stagnate.

o Ease with asking for and receiving support from others.

AJ:  8, I am aware that I am not comfortable asking for a lot of help, although I am aware that if someone is offering something I need, I will gladly and gratefully receive it.

oAbility to recognise your own resistance and patterns of defense.

AJ:  8, I am aware of it, I have lived in survival mode most of my life with people testing and pushing me to places I do not care to go.  I default to this as a matter of course.  This is more in my professional life than in my personal life.  Some say I may be intimidating.  My true friends allow for healthy boundaries and see my vulnerabilities.  I have a hard time trusting people after a lot of hurt.  I don’t believe I will be as subject to this on the Camino simply because we are all on the same level with the same great pursuit.  If anything I should be able to explore these areas and work on the walls around me to be less impenetrable.  It says something about the environment I live in, however.

INAPPROPRIATE EGO

Inappropriate ego

The Franciscans teach about action and contemplation, resting in the midst of a polarized society where both ends have value, yet cannot reconcile.  This polarization stems from egos.  Egos that are nurtured at birth under particular circumstances and challenge us to harmonize with the great diversity that exists on this planet.

Part of this challenge and the resulting changes, according to this teaching, have to do with four major events that occur for all humans, those being; detachment from others, separating life from death, splitting your mind from your soul, differentiating your unacceptable self from the acceptable self.  All these events serve to give you a black and white view of life, and lead you away from their integration into a dualistic place where things are right or wrong, good or bad, and makes it difficult to live in a world where negatives often overshadow positives.

Allowing yourself to accept the two ends of each event as part of the whole, releases you into the greater mystery and truth, and peace of creation.  I am myself, a part of all that surrounds me, including the parents I was born from, even though I have issues with them.  Like the thorn in Paul’s side, we cannot deny it and perhaps we may even be able to make something good of the pain.  

Pain…  my new partner in life.  I am not sure if this is a long-term commitment or not.  These next few months will tell.  It is ironically somewhat like a difficult marriage, hampering my way at times, requiring my attention at inconvenient times, but I have learned a lot from Pain.  I know that if I give it the attention is requires, if I take measures to care for it in the right way, it is manageable and can even lead to Healing.  There is no delight in pain, there is adventure, however, creativity, spontaneity, and challenge - all leading me into a new, different and needed mode of existence.  I can’t say I like Pain, but I can say it has been engaging getting to know it.  Like Pain and Healing, Life and death are also very compatible in the end.  One seems to morph into the other, particularly with the gift of faith.  

Our minds and souls are so interconnected, yet academically and professionally we are taught to fit a particular mold, to see a certain way.  May we always seek to give unique life to our vocations, and may we always be able to pursue what is inspired by passion in the extraordinary way we were created to, in spite the inappropriateness of our egos.