Poof!!

“Now you see it, now you don’t” is a typical introduction a magician in a traveling carnival might say while making a coin, rabbit or beautiful assistant disappear.

How about “we’ll miss you and best of luck in your new job”?

I recently experienced a disappearing act when I left my somewhat secure position at a large academic medical center to join another healthcare organization.

To make my disappearing act even more “stupendous”, I loaded up my covered wagon with all my modern day essentials and headed west to the Colorado territory leaving my Chicago home of 25 years.  “ Wagons ho!”

On that first expedition (aka interim living) my packing list resembles that of Noah’s ….. two plates, two bowls, two folks, two knives, two towels … you get the picture.   Except my manifesto included an iMac and an iPhone.  How did Noah survive without either!!

Then weeks later with the help of two burly guys and a truck, all the contents of my apartment simply vanished leaving only the imprints of my furniture legs in the carpet and patches of dust I should have cleaned years ago. 

It was interesting to see my life segmented into cartons, meticulously itemized in boxes labeled “kitchen”, “living room”, and “master bedroom”.   My life-in-a-box … passing before me as the movers loaded them one by one onto a truck …. as I might add …. rather indifferently.  Didn’t they know what each of those treasures safely cocooned in miles of white packing paper meant to me?   

Then there was the office I spent nine years cluttering with vital, top secret documents, some what organized files, multi-colored post-it reminder notes and dusty personal affects ……. all disappeared too.  Locking the door behind me for the last time, I looked back only to see empty bookcases and, for once, a clean desk.    Maybe that stuff wasn’t so mission critical after all!

I thought of those that witnessed my disappearance and the finality of their hugs and handshakes as if they knew my reappearance was doubtful.

I also thought of those who weren’t able to see me disappear.  Might they be wondering why I am not answering the phone, returning emails or seeing me in the halls or at meetings?  Maybe, maybe not.

And what of those I often encountered on the programmed paths I traveled daily….. the train conductor, my dry cleaner.   When will it dawn on them that my absence was not temporary.  (See Familiar Strangers, August 20, 2010).

How about my old friends, favorite haunts and familiar surroundings that I will be missing?  They as well disappeared before my eyes.

What will never disappear is how much all I left behind meant to me.  Each and every person I encountered and moment I experienced over the past twenty-five years shaped who I am and gave me the confidence to enter that magician’s black box, not knowing what awaited me on the other side. 

When one disappears, one has to understand these things.  I am not sure, I fully did.

Now I know how that nervous little rabbit might have felt … nose twitching, pretending not being afraid.  Indeed!

Poof!!!!   “Now you see him, now you don’t”!

Fear of Falling

Unbeknownst to many, on my fiftieth birthday I experienced my first "shugyo". What the heck is a "shugyo", you might be asking. Although it sounds like a maki roll, it means so much more.

In feudal Japan when samurai ruled that space in time, a samurai would venture out from time to time on a "shugyo"..... a time of extreme austere training. It would have been on a day of personal importance such an anniversary of a meaningful event. On that day, without notice or fan fare, he would leave his home and family to test his skills as a warrior. Those skills would obviously involve wielding a katana (aka samurai sword) but also this was a test of his spirituality, mental toughness and physical strength. They would endure many trials and hardships, pushing their limits and ultimately discovering what they were truly made of. If they made it back, they were pretty darn good!

Anyway .... In modern times, we too test our selves (or should). We don't go around picking fights with the guy in the next cubical or abandoning our day job without notice to wander off into the wilderness. As tempting both might be, we instead do more time appropriate and socially acceptable challenges like running a marathon, climbing a peak, changing careers, moving across country, etc.

My shugyo, exactly five years ago, was to jump out of a perfectly good airplane. I had the opportunity to learn about skydiving from a friend who trumpeted the euphoric feeling of free falling and then floating thousands of feet above ground. It certainly sparked my spirit of adventure and at the same time created an incredibly queasy feeling in my stomach. A rational person would say .... "Sounds like fun but no way". To me ..... it was to be my perfect shugyo. What an ideal way to face my fears, muster courage and test my limits!

So on the morning of July 21, 2006, my fiftieth birthday ... I left my house early in the morning without fan fare and notice, went off to a small grass covered airfield in rural Illinois. After a brief lesson and two or three trips to the bathroom, I was strapped tightly into a harness, introduced to my tandem partner, and entered a small plane with it's two propellers whirling. The deafening engine noise was masking the pounding of my heart.

Off we went into an extremely steep climb, quickly flattening out after reaching proper altitude. I was among experiences skydivers and a few other tandems. The pro's were joking around but us fledgling baby birds were just a little bit nervous about leaving our nests for the first time. My tandem skydiver joined in the kidding torelieve a little of my stress but even in his clowning there was a clear serious nature about checking harnesses andgoing over Safety instructions. We were ready.

As we reached 14,000 feet, the signal was given to stand and approach the now opened door. Just like in those WWII movies, we lined up like paratroopers, ready to jump into battle. The experienced skydivers couldn’t wait and, with ear-to-ear grins and carefree abandon, quickly jumped one after another shrinking in size as they fell. For me, it was an eerie feeling ..... wind blowing, staring out at the patchwork fields below, feeling the vast nothingness of space and knowing that the only thing between me and thehard ground was that open door ..... but there I was ...... toes over the edge.

In a tandem jump, you are securely fastened toan experienced skydiver on your back. My guy was a scrappy Brit named Jacko. Besides being there for your survival, he was there to "help" you take that first step into thin air.

Out we went. Remembering my instructions of arching my back, legs bent at the knee and arms out .. I was in free-fall. Oddly enough the fear was totally gone, replaced by an incredible sense of freedom and serenity. The only hint of falling was the images on the ground quickly getting bigger. It was an incredible feeling. With the cool wind noisily rushing all around me, I was screaming with excitement and exhilaration. We dropped 4,000 feet in one minute. At 10,000 feet, I was too distracted to pull the ripcord so my partner did, thankfully. We gracefully floated in contrasting silence to the ground where I made an albatross-like landing. My "shugyo" was over and concluded with high fives and a manly hug from Jacko.

I was reflecting upon my experience over a cold beer at a nearby bar that offered discounts to us skydivers. The realization was that all the fear and anxiety I felt was driving to the airfield, strapping on the harness, enduring the steep accent in that noisy, prop plane and, most of all, standing at the open door with my toes overthe edge, gazing into the unknown.

Once I was out, there was no feeling of falling but only the joy of facing my fears and knowing that I successfully completed my first "shugyo". I felt alive... in many ways.

The moral of the story? ........ You can figure it out.

Round and Round and Round in the Circle Game

The concept of a "circle" applied to our personal life implies something frivolous and, most often, wasteful.

A merry-go-round with painted ponies going up and down conjure up a vision of children squealing with excitement or perhaps a Joni Mitchell song.

Chasing ones tail like an energetic puppy makes you feel unproductive and silly.

Getting the run around is frustrating and upsetting.

Spinning ones wheels gets you nowhere fast and only kicks up mud.

Getting around to it, means "it" will never get done.

Spinning the bottle can get you slapped, but that was a long time ago!

Going around someone is a way of getting what you want ....... evasion at it's finest.

Round the clock is just plain tiring.

I think you get the point ......... in a round about way! Sorry.

But there are times when going round in circles is a good thing and even a masterful way toward personal and professional development.

There is a concept in Martial Arts called the "Path of Interlocking Circles" that may shed some light. I was fortunate to come across it in a book by Mark Moeller. This concept put my years of martial arts training quickly in perspective. I used to ask why am I throwing the same punch or using the same block over and over again .... hundreds of times. Why do katas always go in sequence from the most elementary to the most complex? Why are black belts doing the same kata and drills as the white belts? Sure, sure ..... practice makes perfect, but really now!

Well .... you only had to watch a black belt perform Heian shodan, the white belt kata, or a series of simple punching and blocking combinations. Their moves "snap" and the power is felt with every move. The sleeves of their gi would crack like a whip. It is easy to see, hear and feel the way even the most basic move was supposed to be performed.

Well ... The answer is the path of interlocking circles.

Everyone starts at the bottom and learns basic skills. Visualizing a circle, we would continue that learning, rounding the circle. As it comes completely around, you are at the bottom again, but this time with slightly refined skills. It might not be noticeable at first, but you have improved incrementally. At which point you pick up additional techniques and refinements on those you have learned before. You continue to progress along a slightly higher circle indicating a little bit higher skill level then your previous circle. So round and round you go, on and on ..... refining your previous skills and adding upon your foundation of abilities. Over months and years of training, there you are .... cracking your own whip and intimating the lower belts with the shear mastery and beauty of your technique.

But there is more, much more. It is a complex equation. The answer does not lie in simple repetition but in the intensity of the practice (i.e., passion) plus its purpose (i.e., why am I doing this). Repetition without purpose and intensity is simply motion. It might feel good and you might look good but are you truly learning and are you really growing?

Here's another variable to include. This one is from the ground level. In the style I trained, we were bare-footed. We were trained to grasp the floor with our toes. Seems odd but it worked. Gripping with your toes create the base. We were grounded and had the needed stability and traction for the next move. That was the foundation upon which we built our skills. Techniques became easier and the wobbling stopped.

How does all this apply to our every day? How many times do we just go through the motions just to get by or get through the day? Are we spinning our wheels, chasing our tails, getting around to "it" and going around the obvious? Hhmmm .....By returning to the "base", we may rekindle the passion and regain the sense of purpose we once had. Possibly?

Now ... from the ground. What about our basic beliefs, core values and principles? Have our toes lost their grasp on the floor? How many times do we wander from who we are or who we want to be ....... loosing our footing and wobble? If that is true, how can we take the risk to venture out on that skinny little limb with confidence to be who we ought to be?

Maybe it's not so frivolous to go round and round after all ..... "The path of interlocking circles, young grasshopper." A reminder for me ..... for sure.

Source: Karate-do Foundations by Mark R. Moeller, 1995

"Should we experience a loss of cabin pressure......."

How often have you heard, and immediately tuned out, the pre-flight safety announcement recited by flight attendants on every domestic and international airline.

The presentations vary. Some are dry and monotone, others are rhythmic and poetic, and, if you are lucky, some are repeated in multiple languages. The wisdom of these messages are often lost in conversation with perfect strangers, fallen on the deaf ears of a drifting mind or distracted by flipping through those catalogues of curious gifts that no one buys. Anything to distract us from listening.

Besides the obvious value of potentially life saving instruction, the pre-flight safety scripts, in my less-than-learned opinion, has provided the most meaningful personal development guidance since the timeless wisdom found in fortune cookies.

I am not talking about stowing away your luggage under the seat in front of you or putting your tray in an upright position or even turning off all electronic devices. Although, knowing where to can find a floatation device in case of a water landing could prove important someday.

However, there is one more instruction that often escapes us but is extremely powerful and meaningful.

"Should we experience a sudden loss of cabin pressure, masks will drop from the ceiling above you. Secure your own mask first before assisting others ......"

Wow.... how profound is that. Think about it....."Secure your own mask first before assisting others". It makes perfect sense. In such an event, you could loose consciousness trying to save your traveling companion first. Then what good are you? The normal reflex is to help, especially to save a child. But that reflex could jeopardize you both. It goes against all those things we are taught to care for others and our natural tendencies for self-sacrifice.

The same holds true when we are not flying..... in our work and personal lives. We often try to help when we are not capable, but feebly try out of reflex to "help".

How many times have we reached out to "help" someone in need only to find we had little to offer other then a hollow "don't worry, things will work out". Now that is really helping.... Isn't it?

Don't get me wrong. There is a place for a soft shoulder and a wiling ear. There is a value to that for sure. Providing a safe place for someone is often all that is wanted. But I propose there is so much more to offer.

Whether it is a friend, co-worker or family member, the value we can provide is from our own inner strength, emotional stability, knowledge and abilities. We have to be able to contribute something tangible and worthwhile ...... Our mask has to be on first.

One more reason to round the "State of Being" cycle and "be" someone or something. If you are a parent..."be" the one who advises, nurtures and loves your child! If you are a friend, "be" there in times of trouble and celebration. If you are a leader, "be" the one who motivates, engages and promotes.

We need to have our act together, be grounded and have a solid foundation before we can help others. Not that we need to be enlighten by years of meditation in Nepal. I simply mean that we should be secure, comfortable and honest with ourselves because you never know when there will be a loss of cabin pressure.

"Be" the one who grabs the oxygen mask first by being who you are!

Memorial Day ... Don't forget to remember.

Today is Memorial Day and it is a time for us to remember those who gave their lives during military service as well as those older warriors who are passing every day.

We just lost the last US veteran of WWI, Frank Buckles, on February 28th and WWII vets are leaving us by the thousand every day and not to mention the troops that are currently dieing in Iraq and Afghanistan.

We are loosing our national treasure at an alarming rate.

I have also had contact with a few guys who served in my dad's Army unit during WWII... 63rd Infantry Division ("Blood and Fire"), 255th Infantry Regiment, Company L. To make a long story short, one of them invited me to their reunion in Indiana. Bob, 87 years old, wasn't sure how many more reunions there will be since "there aren't many more of us left". How very sad for us all.

Yesterday, on "Sunday Morning", there was a segment on Tom Day who founded "Bugles Across America" in 2000. He and 7,500 volunteers make sure there is an actual bugler at ever veteran's funeral playing taps. What a wonderful way to show respect and appreciation!

Again another sad statistic ... they estimate a half a million veterans will die every year for the next seven years. Imagine that!

I know I can't bugle nor would I even try, but there's something I will do today. I will make a donation to Bugles Across America as well as the 63rd Infantry Division's reunion fund. I will also take out one of my dad's war time pictures and say a short prayer to him, his war time buddies and the fathers of my friends who served. I will simply thank them for their service and for enabling me to be who I am.

God bless them all!!

Check out the link to Bugles Across America: www.buglesacrossamerica.org and the 63rd Infantry Division: 63rdinfdiv.com

This Week in the Life of Joseph Anthony

On this day, March 14th, 66 years ago, the morning report of Company L, 255th Infantry Regiment of the 63rd Infantry Division read, “Departed Sarrenguemines Fr WQ 522 2015. Arrived forward assembly area Muhlen Wald Germany WQ 5261 2215”.

The day before, the morning report stated, “Co. received special training in attacking fortified positions and night attacks”.

The boys knew they were in for something serious.

My dad, Joseph Anthony Pulichene, was one of those boys. He and his buddies in Company L were getting ready for an advance against a German position. He would have celebrated his 19th birthday just days before on February 28th. What was going through his head THAT day as he waited for THAT moment? “Will I see my 20th birthday?” … might have been one thought.

Unfortunately he passed away many years ago when I was 21. I didn’t have the chance to ask him what it was like during those days in March, 1945. Although he may not have even told me as many WWII vets often kept their experiences to themselves. They knew and it didn’t need to be said.

My daughter and I have been walking his footsteps by way of Company L’s morning reports, trying to understand where he was and what he was going through. Maybe it was receiving an information packed CD from a granddaughter of a fellow Company L soldier, or recently viewing Ken Burns emotional documentary, “The War”, or maybe it was watching “Band of Brothers” on the monitor attached to an elliptical machine at my gym yesterday, but reading these morning reports last night moved me in a way I can’t explain.

Joseph Anthony Pulichene was a simple foot soldier being asked, as his entire generation was asked, to do the unspeakable. I hold no fanciful image of him charging a machine gun nest with a grenade in each hand. No … I think of him just as my dad. The guy who worked every day to raise his family, watched the Ed Sullivan and Dean Martin variety shows, drank with his friends at the Knights of Columbus, coached my little league team and was the loudest parent in the bleachers cheering me on the HS football field. He lived a blue collar life so I could go to an expensive college prep HS and see me at least through the middle of my senior year in college. He never knew what college really was all about, but he knew it was good and he wanted it for me.

That’s the terrified, skinny kid I pictured, staring out on that lonely, vast field in Germany he was about to cross 66 years ago. Maybe smoking what could have been his last cigarette, maybe saying a Hail Mary while clutching the Blessed Mother medal around his neck that his mom gave him the day he shipped out or maybe he was horsing around with his pals to mask his fear. That’s the guy who was ready to do the impossible.

****************************************************************************************************
Morning Report: March 17

Location: 1 ½ Mi N Neumuhlerhof Ger

Note: Nelson, Donald E (Pvt), Pulichene, Joseph A (Pvt), Flikerson, Karl T (Pvt) Above 3 EM dy to clr 363 Med Bn LWA Germany Trfd DOP 7th A 16 March 45

Translation: Joe and two buddies were transferred to a medical unit to treat wounds suffered the day before. He received a Purple Heart for a shrapnel wound on his left bicep.

“It is the Journey, young grasshopper”

“It is the journey, young grasshopper ….not the destination”, I would imagine Master Po counseling Kwai Chang Cain (aka David Carradine) in the 70’s popular “Kung Fu” TV series.

My buddies and I were always impressed by the flowing rivers of wisdom bestowed upon young grasshopper by his kung fu master and Shaolin monk. This was almost as cool as the jumping roundhouse kicks.

If only I had my own Shaolin monk to advise me through life as Kwai Chang Cain had. He was fortunate to have two! … Masters Po and Kan. I could have used just one of them from time to time to help me answer some of life’s questions in such poetic and calming ways as:

“Grasshopper, be yourself and never fear thus to be naked to the eyes of others. Yet, know that man so often masks himself. That what is simple is rarely understood. The dust of truth swirls and seeks its own cracks of entry and the tree falling in the forest, without ears to hear, makes no sound yet it falls”

Wow!! Feel enlightened?

I often would utter …”it is the journey, young grasshopper, not the destination” when a path to completing a project seemed blocked by boulders and bandits. Also when personal problems seemed bleak and insurmountable, this mantra would work well. Obvious meaning ….the true value is the learning and personal growth gained as we deal with the obstacles and challenges encountered along the way … regardless of whether we are successful or not.

There is a wonderful Greek poem written in 1894 by Constantine P. Cavafy (1863 – 1933) titled “Ithaka”. It speaks to this subject very nicely. It is based on a Greek classic, possibly Homer’s Odyssey, about a journey to Ithaka, a small island off the west coast of Greece. The writer offers a traveler, possibly Odysseus, advice about crossing paths with angry and vengeful gods. Besides the warnings, the writer encourages the traveler to make the best of it. “Ask that your way be long” and visit as many ports and markets as possible, buy luxuries and seek the wisdom of the learned. Good advice? You bet.

Although the spirit of the poem speaks more to positive experiences and triumphs, the contrary would also apply. There has to be something gained from unpleasant experiences. There has to be some meaning to it all.

Want a real example? A dear friend’s wonderful wife was diagnosed with a form of cancer a few years ago. It was a very difficult and emotional journey they both embarked upon. They traveled from discovery through treatment and then to a blessed recovery. Besides the heart warming updates he would email to friends and family on behalf of his wife, he recapped the lessons of their ordeal. To me this was a beautiful demonstration of the journey being as important as the destination (i.e., remission).

To summarize a few …
• We are stronger then we think
• We are loved by more people then we may realize
• When in doubt, give it to God
• God does have a sense of humor
• We need to forgive ourselves and then forgive others
• Living in the past can be filled with regrets, living in the future can be filled with fear, living in the moment can make me happy.
• Sometimes it is just best to do nothing
• Nothing lasts forever – good times or bad
• Everything I have done in my life has brought me to this place. I am the sum of my experiences, good and bad.
• I want to laugh more

Of course there is a moral to these random tales of Kung Fu fighters, Greek mythology and personal triumph. There are actually two.

First ….. Too often we focus on the end …… cashing the bonus check, hanging the diploma on the wall or hearing the audience’s applaud.

Those are only important if they serve to remind us of the journey we took to get there and how the journey made us better people. If it is only for the ego, they will collect dust on a mantle, end up tucked away in a closet or as a temporary fix that needs to be satisfied again and again with less effect.

Second …. Even in the darkest moments, we learn, grow and become stronger …..if we will only let it. Those obstacles and “sideliners” can open unknown pathways to help further our own enlightenment ....... young grasshopper.

I leave you with my favorite verse from Ithaka …

“Ithaka has given you the splendid voyage.
Without her, you would never have set out,
But she has nothing more to give you.
And if you find her poor,
Ithaka has not deceived you.

So wise have you become of such experience,
That already you will have understood
What this Ithakas mean.”

Bon Voyage ….. and buy as many sensuous perfumes as you can!

Extra Credit: Reading of “Ithaka” by Sean Connery