Over and over…

Over and Over…

Greetings, fellow trudgers on “the road of Happy Destiny”…

I’ve heard insanity defined as repeating the same actions yet expecting different results. Like playing “Whack-a-Mole,” or pounding an inflatable clown, I can pummel away all I want — yet some problems keep popping back up.

On many a Monday morning I’ve thought “Today, I’m going to dedicate 20 minutes to prayer and meditation, no matter what!“ And on many a Monday night I realize I didn’t get around to it. I say the same thing on Tuesday, then Wednesday, and finally on Sunday I realize: nothing changed. My solution? Get up on Monday and start the whole thing again — only harder.

Given enough replays of this scenario, there comes a time when I have to admit I may not have the power to change this. If not, perhaps the questions aren’t “What’s wrong with me?” or “What’s all my resistance about?”

If I look at the underlying proposition, it comes down to me trying to change me into a better me, according to me. Now, there’s a pattern. Albert Einstein wrote “We can’t solve problems by using the same kind of thinking we used when we created them.” So if left to my own devices, using my own best thinking, I don’t have the power to change something, the question could be rephrased as: “Where do I get some power?“

Where do you shop for power when you’ve run out?

Visitors

Visitors

Ah, the joys of the open road: who will I try me out on today?

The Manic TailGaters, Parking Space Hogs, Not-too-SmartPhoners, Pro Roadblockers, Comatose TollTakers, Passing Lane Kut-off Krazies, Jaywalking Suicides, hearing-impaired LeftLane SlowPokes — a vast assortment of psychos, clones, morons and drones…

or

Maybe today, everyone I encounter is a visitor.

Maybe each visitor comes with a story.

And if we don’t have time to chat — maybe I’ll invent one.

Above it all

Above it All

Greetings, fellow trudgers on “the road of Happy Destiny”…

Sometimes I wish I were a balloon, just looking down, far above it all.

And then a small voice in my head says “Holy shit — I’m all by myself up here.”

Art Direction

Art Direction

After a long hiatus from drawing, due to an injury, I took up pencil again. I did what I usually do, just started scribbling random lines and see what pops up, and this is what popped up. Like automatic writing, the results can be jibberish, but sometimes they strike a chord and the synchronicity is a delight.[/caption]

In this case, the tools were directing me toward the blank page opposite…

Time to get back to these stories.

The Magic Touch

The Magic Touch

Greetings, fellow trudgers on the “Road of Happy Destiny”…

A not-quite-as-sublime follow-up to the excerpt from MichelAngelo’s The Creation of Adam in my previous post. I may add some color later, but I just wanted to get this up and on.

I do appreciate this drawing unfolding as it did, as they all do — completely unplanned (at least until the final stages), and yet another surprising reminder of a daily reality: I have to reach up and meet the hand halfway.

Happy trails!

Electing to Receive

Accepting Help

Greetings, fellow trudgers on “the road of Happy Destiny”…

Lots of folks have asked “What happened? Where’s the Happy Trudger?” The answer is: mending.

After the bad accident in January [see previous post], about everything that could possibly go wrong did. After multiple surgeries, two months in and out of hospital, a hospital-borne infection, two months convalescing as a shut-in on enough antibiotics and pain meds to kill a football team—The Happy Trudger is trying to bounce back, and hopefully the missives will resume.

In the meantime, some expensive lessons learned:

1. If I need help, I’ll ask for it.

2. If help is offered, I’ll receive it.

3. All I need say in return is “Thank you.”

That’s it!

Happy Trails!

“That Happened…”

"That Happened..."

Greetings, fellow trudgers on “the road of Happy Destiny”…

I’m ordinarily a big fan of blizzards, but today this Happy Trudger isn’t at his happiest.

Day before yesterday, I slipped on some black ice beneath some snow in our impossible driveway, and down I went — hard. The moment I landed I thought “God, I’d love to rewind that tape about five seconds or so, please…”

I lay there waiting for the incredible explosion of pain in my right shoulder to subside enough to see if I could get up. A 911 call and a trip to the hospital later, it turns out that the bones in my shoulder did not fare so well — multiple breaks of the shoulder, including fracturing the main bone of my upper arm into ten pieces. In case that wasn’t enough, I’m right-handed.

I’m gathering myself for surgery tomorrow morning. They’re going to be doing quite a patch-work job, complete with steel plates and screws. The pain from this injury is intense. I gather the post-surgical picture is a long and painful one: I’m taking medication for pain as prescribed and they’re barely making a dent. If it weren’t for Dragon Dictate, no way I could write this post, and I’m really not sure when I’ll be able to write the next one.

As tempting as it is to become lost in the sea of pain, fear, anxiety, shame and resentment around serious injury and medical trauma, I feel strangely accepting about these circumstances—and I don’t think it’s the pain killers. It’s as if a voice was saying to me “Well, that happened.”

I’ve received blessings from friends and family expressing love, prayers and generosity. I’m very fortunate to have good, caring medical professionals around me — I was treated to my first 911 ambulance ride, which was pretty exciting. My business clients have for the most part been understanding and patient as well, at least up to now.

I’m impelled by hard circumstances into a graceful acceptance that I am powerless over so much, but that I can ask for help when I need it, and the help — in often unpredictable form — will arrive. I’d rather move forward in acceptance and grace than in fear, resentment and self-pity, and I’m getting plenty of practice.

Happy salted and sanded trails!

PS Monday was 01.10.2011, a pretty interesting date. It’s also the binary way of writing the number “27.” What 27 has to do with any of this, I’m still waiting to figure out — but you can bet I’ll be counting!