It Ain't All That Serious

WARNING: This blog entry may contain TMI for some of my friends and colleagues.  :)  Read with caution.

For those of you who don't know me well or haven't met me, you may not realize that I am one hairy SOB.  Yes, God granted me the blessing of follicular abundance over my entire body excepting one very important location...the top of my head.  Call it unfair, call it a curse but no matter how you see it, the result is a considerable amount of time spent manscaping. 

It wasn't until my mid 20's that my body began to express its true  primate nature (though my sisters may say there were earlier clues).  As each day afforded me an ever thickening forest, I soon knew that I had to respond.  I didn't want to be that guy that all the women were talking about because of the hair on his back. 

I tried a variety of things, but the most extreme was the day I completely shaved everything but the hair on my head (of which I still had a little).  As do many young men, I imagined that going hairless would be sexy as it revealed the hard lines of my muscles.  For some young men, this is quite true.  Of course, not all of us have the muscles we believe we have worked so hard for and somehow magically see as we gaze admiringly into the mirror.  Reality sets in pretty quickly when all the hair shadows are gone, and for a guero like me,  light reflects so glaringly off my paste like epidermis.  And still, denial is a powerful thing.

Hoping that my time at the gym was finally showing up, I needed to test my newly shorn bod in front of the ladies.  A little voice inside my head was calling to me, telling me the painful truth but, as readers of my other blogs know, hope springs eternal.  I arrived at the pool, nervous but determined.  When the time came, I pulled my shirt off confidently and gave my pecks a squeeze, ever so casually of course. The simple reply from my good friend Tammy told me all I needed to know.  "Oh Mat" she said, "it ain't all that serious."  As right as she was, she also couldn't have been more wrong.  For me, it was far more than all that serious.  I was crushed but, at least, no longer deluded.  I knew what I needed to know.  Sometimes what we'd like to be is not truly what we are.  I was horribly embarrassed but at the same time, I understood that she was not being mean at all.  She was actually being quite loving and telling me that I didn't have to try so hard because she loved me for who I was. 

I was reminded of this event tonight, 20 some years later,  as I stood in front of the mirror, shaving off the excess hair into a pattern that better suites me.  As the hair fell to the floor, revealing my body in the largest size it has ever known (and I'm not talking muscles here), I was comforted to remember, "Oh Mat, it ain't all that serious."  Those years of self discovery have led to these years of self acceptance.  While there are things about youth I miss and long for, the self doubt of my teens and twenties is not one of them. 

A Mentor's Advice

For my friends who know Marshall, you will especially appreciate this little poem that I jotted down one day recently after a chat with him.  For those who don't know Marshall he is a wise mentor that I am fortunate to have in my life. 

"Keep writing my friend" that's what he said
More from your heart and less from your head
Deep from your soul, the core of your being
Probe the mystery, explore the meaning.

The meaning of meaningless?
The something of nothing?
What are you talking about?
You've got to be joking.

If it's a joke it's a joke
but the truth is the truth
try to accept it
without all the proof
Learn to love yourself for all that you are
Dive into the abyss, you can't go too far

Sometimes it feels crazy
but I know that you're right
I'll embrace my sorrow
and run toward my fright
I'll embrace my shadow in the darkest of places
and find the integrity in all of my faces

Whether weak, wise, or strong
You cannot go wrong
your life IS the path
it has been all along.

Releasing Judgments Opens Doors to Helping and Being Helped

Parallel parking is something I am generally pretty good at.  I seem to have a  natural sense of where to start the maneuver, when to first begin turning the wheel and how quickly and far to turn it.  These  things seem to be the key to effectively sliding into a space on the first try.  While I usually succeed in hitting it on the first try, sometimes it doesn't go that way.  Halloween night of this year was just such a time.  I was attempting to get a space in a very busy neighborhood.  Cars were coming down the street in rapid succession and children were running about in every which direction in their anticipation of the pending treats.  If ever there was a time that a first try success was desirable, this was it. 

As I made my approach I could see a car coming up behind me and several families standing on the sidewalk just feet away from where I wanted to park.  In haste, I began to back up without completely setting myself in the proper starting position.  I knew immediately that I had not begun right and as such, aborted to start again.  As happens with parallel parking, one bad start usually leads to another and this time was no exception.  As I pulled forward once again to find the right spot cars began to stack up behind me as they could not get by due to oncoming traffic.  I tried to console myself that a few extra seconds now would result in a much more effective effort and would save everyone time in the long run.  The calming self talk was easily overtaken by the shouting in my head yelling "get out of the way, your creating a traffic jam."  I again began the maneuver from the wrong place and again knew it immediately, but this time I did not want to push myself back out into the traffic a third time and jam everything up again.  I knew that it would take a couple of back and forths to get the truck into the space, but I knew I could do this without blocking the traffic and decided to proceed.  As I began to inch my way forward...crank the wheel, and backward...crank the wheel, and forward...crank the wheel and so on, it was quickly evident that it was going to take more that just few repetitions to get the truck where in needed to be.  At this point I felt committed to my method and with irritated resolve I decided to proceed.  Soon, I became aware of a gathering of people who were watching this botch job and I was certain that they were taking bets on how many times I would have to repeat this motion before I would either give up, or make it into my space.  Annoyed as I was that they could be taking pleasure in my pain, I knew that my feeble efforts were undoubtedly entertaining so I had to accept the natural draw for others to watch. 

After what was literally about the 15th repetition of my forward...almost hit the car in front of me, backward...hit the curb with my back tire, a man stepped out of the crowd of roughly 25 people (I swear, I am not exaggerating) and began to guide me.  I wasn't sure if he was acting out of kindness for me or if he just couldn't take it anymore and had to end his own suffering.  I wanted to ignore him and pretend I didn't need his help as if accepting meant I was conceding to the fact that I was incompetent.  At this point, however, my incompetence, at least at this particular moment was undeniable and I really didn't care anymore, I was just so thankful that his assistance might bring the humiliation to an end.  His guidance as to how much room I had between me and the car in front of me was invaluable and quickly netted significant gains from each rocking maneuver I made.  Within about 3 more tries, I was in a good enough position and could finally stop.  When I got out of my truck I was certain that I heard applause though it may just have been people slapping their knees at the hilarity of it all.  I felt compelled to explain myself to the now dispersing audience, but knew that it was pointless.  There was nothing I could say that could reduce the ridiculousness of what had occurred.  So, I head my held high as I gathered the things I needed from my truck and walked away as though everything was perfectly normal.  I felt red faced for quite some time, but eventually was able to shake it off and accept that we can't get through life without being an idiot at least once in a while. 

I had put the entire incident out of my head until yesterday when I arrived at Costco for gas and observed a woman who was pulling around a person at the rear pump to get to the open front pump.  To get passed the car she had to overshoot the gas pump and then back into the space.  She began to do so but quite ineffectively.  She repeatedly attempted to angle her car so that she could get into a spot close enough to the pump but repeatedly made the same error and basically just pulled forward and backward in the same arc over and over again.  My first thought was, "oh my goodness, this woman should not be driving."  My judgements began to swirl in my head with great righteousness until I ran, head on, into my memory of my own inane parking attempt just 6 weeks earlier.  Once the judgment was cleared from my mind, the thought that came was, 'oh, I wish I could help her.'  A much more  positive and potentially productive thought than all of the judgments it replaced.  I quickly ruled it out, however, knowing that by the time I got over to her to offer to help she would, undoubtedly, have it worked out.  Besides that, I know that being approached by a strange man can be uncomfortable for a woman who is alone.  Just as all of this was passing through my mind, she stopped and got out of her car to check her position in relation to the gas pump which, at that point, was exactly the same as it had been when she first began.  The car behind her finished pumping gas and squeaked its way past her as the attendant approached and said, "You're not close enough to the pump."  She nodded in agreement and meekly attempted to explain the difficulty she was having as he turned and walked away.  As all of this was happening, I pulled up to my pump and, as I began to pump my gas she got back in her car and began the whole thing over.  Forward, backward, forward, backward in the exact same arc over and over and over again.  If you saw it in a movie you'd say, "That's so over written." But truth is stranger than fiction and, as endless as my parking fiasco had seemed, hers was even worse. 

I decided that she might be frustrated enough by now to just be grateful for some help rather than being frightened or offended, so I approached her car and tapped on the window.  I asked "Would you like me to help you?"  She looked up, cautious but defeated.  She gave me a look up and down, then opened her car door and, stepping out, said "If you don't mind, I would really appreciate it.  I'm such an idiot."  I smiled warmly and said "It's a rough angle."  I hopped into the car, put it in gear and promptly pulled forward once and then backward right up next to the pump.  As I got out, the woman said meekly as if admonishing herself "Not such a rough an angle, I guess."  Again I smiled and said "Some days things just don't go the way we want."  She replied, "This is definitely one of those days."  She thanked me again and I could tell she felt really embarrassed so I quickly recounted my situation on Halloween night so that she would know that it happens to us all.  As I told her the story, she began to relax and laughed heartily at the absurdity of it all.  I don't know how else to describe the moment except to say that it was one filled with tremendous joy, honesty and compassion.  It affirmed everything I have heard and know about the important things in life.  While I believe that the woman felt she had received a gift, the gift of kindness, I know that she gave me an even greater gift.  The gift of reminding me that, however small or large the ways, my life has meaning. 

As I drove away, I was aware of the importance of the act of releasing judgments in allowing this moment to happen.  I had to release my judgements of her in order to move to the next place of wanting to help.  Additionally, in order to allow me to help her, she also had to release her judgments of herself and what it would mean about her if she admitted needing help, just as I had done for myself a few weeks earlier.