The Prize of Surprize

I think I found a place to land,
but between where I fly,
and the ground,
the wind has a say in that.


One of my favorite stories to tell and retell,
over the years,
is a true one circ a1974.

A woman, about 30 years old,
had had enough of her life struggle,
trying to make a living as a secretary in New York...
Maybe, ...perhaps, some of her personal challenges,
... in her world,
beyond the job...
influenced her thinking,
or circumstances at home...
or a haunting past...
a dismal future...
... that day.

So,
Instead of going to work,
if my memory serves me,
IN THE SAME BUILDING,
she rode to the roof,
peeled off all her clothes,
Empire State building.

A long way to the ground,
the world's tallest building in those days.

She had completely emptied herself
along with all the baggage of perception
when she took off all her clothes,
every stitch,
jumped free of it all.
and flew...

...and doorways opened
... or so it seems.

She had asked God for forgiveness,
in the process of releasing everything,
for her lack of ability to make it work all out...
for not seeing beauty anymore,
... or other options,
...as she jumped free,

In other words,
...She really let it ALL go.

10 seconds later, during the flashbacks,

...she found herself,
asking for a second chance.

Alone in that wild,wild, void,
... soon falling at terminal speed,

...Other vision had opened,
and deep in her heart,
she found herself seeeing
with fresher eyes,

...beyond the weights left behind,
the weight of earth,
while falling free...
with those freedom eyes,

...it was all a prayer,

evolving,
...first she had begged God to forgive her
for not seeing other routes,

then the release to freedom, the further emptying,
and as she flew,
while overviewing life's path,
she found herself asking,
...for another chance... somehow.
wishing she had had such clarity,
...more present free vision,
...30 seconds ago...
... before she had jumped.


and then the wind blew.

gently.

... blew her onto a balcony,


about 12 stories down...

not a bruise,
... not a scratch
... buck naked.

all true.

... yes, folks... this really happened,
it's a true story.
circa 1974
New York.

Look it up.

You'll see.

I didn't exagerate.

...as best I could,

I brought it to you here.

exactly as best, I have retold it,
probably 1000 times since then.


I can't help but tell a joke right about now,
and say that maybe the guy in that office
on the balcony where she landed,
...was on his knees right at that very moment,
praying for a naked woman to appear....


sorry...that part is imagination.
Anyway. I guess if it had been me in that office,
seeing her land on my balcony,
I'd a offered her a cup of coffee,
and my jacket.

in any case,

...the story hit the press.
I read it halfway through lunch,
mid day, Cincinnati Art Academy,
yeah... art school cafeteria,
.


Right about that same time,
I was getting ready to bail from my life.
The first idea was to join the military,
I had this urge to go to Vietnam,
and win it for all of us,

I'd taken the physical, done all hte tests
for the various branches of service.
the guys in the navy told me I could get laid in every port,
the guy in the army,
explained between coffee and his flabby belly,
that I could learn anything I chose,
and retire with a great pension, and full medical.
retire and take it easy,
just like he seemed to be,
coffee and donuts.

I opted for the Air force,
though they had no category for me,
they proposed journalism school,
for some strange reeason,
but wanted a fast tract to being John Huston,
or Wayne theibod...

Working on the roof of our house,
with my brothers and dad,
I told them and everyone I was going to Vietnam.

Nobody commented, affirmative or negative.
I was confused.
Nobody noticed, my death urge,
not even me.

When the recruiter called me at 5:30 am to get on the bus,
I told him I had changed my mind.
What I didn't tell him was that I had sensed,
in my heart a need for a glory route to being a hero,
...and I was trying to figure out where I got the idea,
...because, I really wanted to just go and die for my country.
I was starting to realize that wasn't such a solid plan
...for a solid future.
And it was time to sort out where that idea
...came from.

Fighting for my country is one thing,
but noticing you wanted to die a hero,
... as a premise for joining,
right when we were losing, big time, in Vietnam,
and while neighbor kids were returning in two pieces,
or a coffin,
well, well, well...

...that was something else.

So.. reading about the woman in New York,
had sort of shifted me.
one of many, beyond many times since then,
but this is about then.

I went to work the next day,
Richard Wuest florist and greenhouses,
I told them I needed a break,
and without knowing where I was going,
I got on my Honda Dream motorcycle,
and took off,
... solo,
with my camping gear and 150 bucks.

Hoping to be taken to another planet,
... by the space brothers.
...what happened on that road trip,
... is for a science fiction movie.
and doesn't really apply here...
except to say, I lost 5 hours of time,
and I have been searching for it ever since.


anyway,
later on that year I also started skydiving,
the idea was to face death,
a necessary step,
i felt.
and I did...
that's also for a later blog.

Along that route, there were a couple of mishaps.
One was mine.
Another, was one I saw while standing on the ground
and watching an experienced jumper
wrestle with his tangled lines,
and , meanwhile,
on the ground next to me,
hearing his friends laugh aobut his faulty chute,
in a matter of fact sort of way,
while he struggled.

They all told this story that offered no consolation to me,
but it was the flipside of that New York secretary story.

Evidently, a master jump instructor
who was also an aerial acrobatic jump master,
had taken a team up for practice jumps,
like so many other times,
as an instructor.
And, often, he would jump with them,
but on this day he had decided not to, before getting in the plane.
...
But that day, he forgot asbout the earlier decision,
in the heightened moment of the thrill,
...he found himself deciding to jump also,
after they all had already safely jumped,
...he followed them out the door...

You hear stories like this, no matter what the
endeavor or trade, or job,
you hear stories about the down side.
Like the guy who died from touching a spray nozzle,
on a house painting job,
at the wrong time,
injecting air into his blood stream,
causing heart failure,
a result of an open wound, and a speck of concrete dust.

Here's the kicker,
the world skydive acrobatic master jumper,
he was doing his acrobatics,
same as usual, on ever jump he did.
not shwoing off... but purely in joy.

... then, halfway through his manuevers,
he realized he had forgotten
his earlier decsion , not to jump, on that ride.
...he had no chute on, that day.

also a true story.

10,000 feet.

No chute.

Falling fast.

Master acrobatic world champion skydiver.

Folks watching from the ground said that what followed his surprize,


First, they saw him freak out,
search for the chute,
flipping chaotic,
bizarre,
crazy.

but that was only a few seconds.

then there was instant peace and acceptance.
... he performed his peak mannuevers there after,
...world class,
smooth... graceful,
...the best routine, all the way down, they had ever seen him do.

Perfection.

His last jump.

No chute.

until he collided with earth.

like dying on stage mid-song,
...if you are a performer,
or mid - routine for a stand up comedian,

Like some say Andy Kaufman fooled everyone,
until his last breath...

best performance ever.

the very last.

but no choice.

yet heroic.

... don't you think?


I heard that one, while I watched a seasoned skydiver,
wrestling with his tangled cords,
listening to his friends yell,
"cut away!"
"cut away"

at the last moment, the tangles were sorted out,
and he eased his landing a few feet away.
............

Back to the New York Secretary story,

All we know is that the story was reported.
That it was true,
and that it was her testimony of her experience,
inside and out.
...as she flew, ands she fell.

and for me, it became a testimony about faith.

the importance of HAVING faith,

...but maybe also the importance of LOSING faith.

and possibly, also about being truthful with oneself,

...and those ideas, will be another blog... I guess.

this one is about the PRIZE OF SURPRIZE.

...sometimes the thing you least expect,
from the intention you release through action and thought.

or maybe this is about playing the cards you are dealt.

but finding out halfway through the game,
that it's not in your control, at all...

...and you will be as surprized as I am,
because this blog is not about what you think it's about.
as usual...

nor what I expected to write, either.

as usual.

...but back to the story.


she said that as soon as she requested forgiveness,
...peace filled her heart.

the kind of peace where you need nothing more.
... the fullest of peace,


you are fulfilled.

along with that peace came clarity of vision,

and with that vision, problems unsolve-able, became transparent,
and reformed themselves as challenges,
and not problems, at all.

along with her self awareness,
came awareness of renewed inner strength,
...showing her that she was beyond the limits of such challenges.

all this occurred instantly,
while she was hitting terminal velocity,
...within 10 to 12 seconds...

tapping that new source of strength,
... beyond the limits of any challenge.
...she saw renewal from inside out,
and along with that,
new ways to make another try.

Instantly, she requested the right,
the ability,
the chance to do so.

Her response to the renewed vision was to no longer curse her life,
or herself for falling prey to the limitations.

She bonded with a stronger identity.

a sign for how deep the vision went,
directly to the depth of her soul.

Maybe this woman is alive today,
and she could tell us about her last 32 years,
since that day in 1974, or 75.

that would be a great documentary, wouldn't it?

use your imagination...
we may never know if her fresh start
would match the theme of what we all want this to mean.

But it's exactly the samekind of turn around
... that created a Mandela inside Mandela,
a Mother Theresa inside Mother Theresa,
a Cesar Chavez inside a Cesar Chavez.

You know, if you research it, you find this is true.

there is alwasy that turn around point inside the lives,
... of those we see as great lives lived.

inside those from which our society benefits,
we can find reasons,
inside of reasons,
and always a turn around point.
always just like this woman's awakening,

always.

sometimes secret,
sometimes known.

but always real.
that paradigm shift that goes with it,
co-incides with the rotue they took,
the language of their life,
their soul signature.


check it out...

She saw no route to ask for another chance until she was floating above New York, absolutely free...

And that was her route,
perfect.
I am not saying this route is a necessary step for you.

But it worked for her.

Or she would have jumped again from that balcony, that very day...

...in theory.

but death wasn't the goal,
obviously.

she may have thought it the goal,
until vision opened.

then perception shifted.

I am always intrigued about how life tests us beyond whatever
decisions we make,... and our true intentions seem to haunt us,
until we sort out the confgusion,
and the surprize of life,
gives us what we need,
not what we think we need, or want,
that hidden key awaits you,
for a door only you can see.

It might be a lot simpler,
like looking into the eyes of a homeless person,
and facing your own fears.

Folks seek these junctures in standard ways,
within certain heightened moments,
inside sports or other challenges,
and sometimes there, they find a REAL junction,
realer than they could ever dream.

Running used to be to get some where.

Walking too.

Boats weren't just for fishing and for weekends,
or to win races...
cars running incrcles and polluting cities,
aren't the only reason to drive,
sponsorhip or no sponsorship,
... are you having fun?


meanwhile,
...why do so few run or boat to work each day?

Since when are selective tasks, performed to perfection,
in isolated circumstances,
with now wind..
no wind,
or switchbacks,
so to speak,
considered so great?


I am not talking about judging a sport,
just becasue it is a sport,
... for example...

mastership is mastership...in Golf, by the way.
Tiger Woods is a master.

I am not talking about Tyson, in his prime,
He made it out of those circumstances of confused youth.
That was a method for shifiting his status,
Easy for an enraged youngster to roll over opponenets,
when you come from such an empty world and you
know you deserve better.

Boxing, for tyson was a train to status.

These days, he's praising life's lessons met along the way,
...when many could say he shows evidence of a loser,
Far bigger rewards, than a world championship title.
...he's winning according to the life lessons he's learning through.
and it's still in process.
still in process.
for us all.

exactly just , exactly similar to our own lives.

My current challenges are extreme,
no doubt.

I'm hunting for an exit one minute,
then forced back to the work at hand, the next.
... and every challenge along the way,
tailor made to touch a nerve,
connected to a lesson either in process,
or one I have learned, and now get to prove was real.

either way,

just like you,
I am called to master my own life,
sometimes it's really , exactly,
like a "do or die scenario".

If it weren't , I daresay,
I would be wasting my effort.

It can only be real, if it is real.

You can't learn through tv sets,
or movies...
but you can learn direct, then write good movies and tv.

If nothing else, you will insprie others to live true and real,
but not how....
their won soul and path, will teach them,
every time.

Huntiing for a future,
Hunting for an exit,
Hunting for sustenace.
Hunting for love.
Hunting for something worth believing in.


Some hunters hunt to live, not for sport,
Some hunt to share time along the way, in the process...
to share the time with friends,
and some get chided if they aren't there for trophies,
or show little motivation to kill along the way...
for any reason.

but we all have to step on the grass,
as we walk upon it, in our search,
we all have to breathe the air,
and it all came from somewhere,
before we found it,
reborn from extinction,
just like courage in the human heart.
re-invented in the hour of need.


Some stay back and keep lunch ready,
and the fires warm,
while the journiers accomplish the impossible,
so the whole tribe can live.

as soon as there is a break in the action,
and the real reasons for being together re-surface,
along with celebration.
...or are all too apparent by their absence.
prompting us, as we start to wonder,
why we are here.

fulfillment of oneself seems to not ever be enough.

a shared outcome with all the families dancing in joy
... and starts for newer futures,
beyond those we held or had,
these are the reasons...

How well we have done with these simple truths,
..these seem to be the only real reasons to bless a life
as we let it go.


I love shooting guns,
once I shot a friend's rifle at every target in sight
... for days on end.
.. ran it out of amunition... and I noticed,
that I still... wasn't satisfied.
...then I wondered about owning a gun,
how much the bullets cost,
what could I hunt and kill ,
how much is a hunting licnese, wht are the seasons!


And I realized a part of me had gone "hog wild",
yet, another part of me noticed,
that I like to notice time going by between decisions.
Like the slow ebbs and flows of decisions inside of a painting,
or a movie, or a song... I am making...

So I went back to the sport of writing songs, painting paintings.
developing media, to move other hearts,
and the slow motion of it all felt far more safe,
not only for me,
but for all concerned.
...but I always knew that I had seen
a part of me love the thrill
...of the instant changes, found inside that connection,
found inside of instant power,
... the pull of a trigger or the flip of a switch.

and that's when I realized I may not want to be a hunter,
or a politician,
or a lawyer.


Yeah,
the creative path of painting,
Slower, more contemplative action suits
a part of my temperament,
which is yearning to go beyond the limited outcome,
of impulsive actions or snap decisions.
... or unbridled use of power.

It feels/felt like a truer motion towards a
future I could live with,
...in a more positive way...
at least for me.

Yet, from time ot time,
I still eat meat...
Every once in awhile,
and I notice...
that I admit it and I know,
somebody somewhere,
killed something so I could live.

whether I like it or not,
I participate.

just like stockholders participate in the business deals
of their CEO's.
Greedy or not.

results equal intention.
intention equals results.

etc.

yet..Grey areas do exist.

the only difference I can make,
is to bless the food,
and notice what I am eating.

bless the thoughts,
and notice what I am thinking.

and never buy stocks...
unless I can afford asking the questions,
amnd stomach the answers I get,
about what I am furthering.


and if I ever do action,
notice what portion of it I do with eyes open,
and choose accordingly.

and when it comes to hunting,
we are all hunting for something,

I know conservation is necessary,
and in this modern world of separation from nature,
...most folks are afraid of Lions and Wolves and Bears.
So... we have very few wolves, bears, lions,
in the animal kingdom.

but plenty of theives and killers among us who do so via legal business,
and politics...
and lawyering,
and fame... or power.


So... when it comes to the imbalance of the deer herds,
we have to send out a few hunters,
sent out there to glean the herds in the woods,
because the animals that frighten us, or which might kill us,
aren't there maintaining the blance,
meanwhile most folks who are not hunters,
do not see it,
the killing still is necessary...

So be it.

But, for me, this is why I watch the shows on tv,
sometimes,
the ones where they stalk the animals and you see the killing shot,
... and I admit, that it's a little difficult to watch a beautiful,
... magnificent animal get cut down,
... live on tv,
and hear the shooters praising each other
while standing in that sacred place,
of the last breath of some wild, free thing...
ignoring it's sacredness.

I hate to say it...

but maybe we should be seeing every world war killing event live on tv, as well.

perhaps no process on this planet can be shared for a shift,
one way or the other,
unless we all see with clarity
what is really going on...

perhaps this was only meant to be a killing field,
after all.

and not a peaceful garden.

the peaceful stand on the shoulders of killers,
whether they like it or not.
it's just a fact.

the same as a hamburger,
as tasty as it is,
came from the raising of an animal
solely for slaughter.

Sometimes I wonder if the human family is being gred,
fully and soley tocnosume,
for the corporate tigers.

I once met a guy who had to try to re-convince me about Jesus.
He felt he knew what was in my heart...
He thought he was seeing me true, through his eyes as a veteran of war,
...but he did not know what was in my heart as he spoke,
that part of the reason I did not go to war, is becasue I knew I would be too good at it,
and I realized I had to have more of a reason,
than just dying a hero.

so... I guess i was young...
and maybe neither did I,
though I claimed I did,
know who I was,
or if courage exited at all inside me,
...long ago.

He said, he used to be well known as a "kick -ass" hunter,
and grabbed all the glory there, that he could.
He became the kind of hunting guide that gets flown in,
to help the ones who can't shoot straight,
to get their guaranteed trophy.

Eventually, he was taking novices in their brand new gear on hunts,
just to guarantee them a trophy,
and he found himself existing,
inside the world of corporate game farms,
Luring the prize to a feed,
then gunning as many down as possible in a gauntlet,
a splatter of blood,
...shooting everything that tried to run.
... and Everybody happy...
Everybody found a trophy they could claim they had a right to.

Except him,
...in his heart...
because,
... he had seen no honor in the hunt,
no challenge in it.
just a paycheck.
... and the money could not shut his eyes to his clarity.

... and eventually he was strong enough to admit it.


When I remember his story, it was just as beautiful then as it is today.
He said he sort of time traveled, during a hunt,
...back to a memory of a time in his childhood,
when he was first learning to hunt,
along with his father,
...hunting ducks with his dad.

It was 5am, a place like a huge lake in wisconson
and after camping at the blind in camo gear,
they woke to see the sun was rising,
a magnificent array of color spread out as far as the eyes could see.
glorious.

and a whole flock of ducks, with more coming in,
... behind the blind at the edge of the lake.

as the new ducks came in along with the sun rise,
and the the sky was full with brilliant color,


He raised his gun,
just as he had been toaught,
ready to kill whatever he could.
...just doing it as exactly as his father had taught him...
... and they both wiated for the exact right time,
... as they both aimed,

... then something changed.

a point of shift.

...the father motioned that they put their guns down,
and the son didn't understand,
it was the best hunting opportunity of a life time,

they stood silent and watched the beauty.

while the sunrise, and the sky full of birds overhead was a sight beyond a blockbuster movie... something never to be repeated,
distinct and full of wonder,
...and it seemed to go on, and on,
... forever.

...they watched in silence.

...then, as the ducks started to fly away again,
and the sunset faded,

... the dad turned to the son, and said,

"son,
...somethings are just too beautiful to shoot"



.........

the guy telling me that childhood story was 40 years old,
he was preaching to me about somehting I already knew.
But I heard it in a deeper way.

He said, later in life he had become that hunter that helped idiots get trophies,
then go back to their offices and dens with trophies to impress other idiots.

and he couldn't stomach killing the beauty that was sacred without a thought.

so... he gravitated to bow hunting and stalking the game.

and he got good at that.

so good, that he could creep up on many a magnificent animal,
and sit secluded, watching it in it's element,
fulfilling it's destiny.

He could choose which animal would be his winter food.
He had stopped hunting for the trophies... and gave a lot of good meat to neighbors.

But the process sank in deeper in his heart.

till one day, he put the bow back in his truck,
and instead brought along his cameras.

Now...

He does all the hunting, and shows his skills perfected,
but the rewards are showcased in slideshows...

Nature photographs ... that few can get.

I cherish this story.

and I listened to each chapter of it,
until I felt I could write it someday, later,
on a day like today.

there you go.


I had to make all these turns in this road without hearing such stories.
until it was almost too late.

Doing martial arts,
I had to grab deep to withstand the unfinished boxing skills of a Navy Fighter.

Eventually he tapped my survival urge,
and I backed him up agaionst a wall,
over and over.

but I didn't like the sensation in my gut, while I was winning that one.
... nor did I like my disconnected baby toe...

that had me hobbling around the dojo for weeks afterwards.

I could have busted out of my corner and went at him the same way he went at me,
disrespectful from the start.

But I had art in my heart.

And it took his lack of control,
to expose mine.

So... I guess I won,

But I saw something in my heart... deeper.

and it was art.

I hadn't been able to put the art in the martial art, back then.

Of course, you can find all you need to know, by studying where Chuck Norris is today.

He was one of my heroes growing up...

He, and Joe Lewis, and Bill Walsh, and the ones featured on Texas Ranger,
... all aging world champion full contact karate and kickboxers...

...they were my heroes growing up

and it's great to see how they can still kick and punch and walk and talk...

but even better to see the smiles on their faces when they share a truer reward than a medal,

their mutual repsect, and a sense of honor... and compassion.

allo represented by the kinds of scripts and productions and "morals to the stories" of that tv show which is geared to the kids of today, just like Kung Fu with David Caradine was geared to kids of my day.

the art inside the story telling,
replaced the art inside the battles.

but the battles just for trophies have no comparisons,
to the battles you win each day by living your life artfully, as best you can.

No trophy on the wall can come slose.

And I can see that awareness inside Chuck Norris as he ages...

He is figuring that out...

But that's not what this blog is about.


Nor is it about the time I took a stand for the art in my heart, at the gym.

when I knew that I could reply to a woman's beautiful kicks with one or two punches to her face, matching her I could have disfigured her... so I showcased it to the referee and slowing down the punches, stopping them a fraction of an inch from her face.... which drew his riducule, and caused him to stop that match, and then he said, "ok, just you and me, now"

All us blackbelts were the only ones there,
a symposium the the master at the far end of the gym, overseeing the whole deal, like it was there plan.

they were going to showcase the folly of the art part... I could see it.

and they knew I had crossed over to the art...

it was not a reclamation or rescue mission to bring me back.

it was a way to showcase the folly of the art compared to the martial part.

... the guy I was fighting was 6 feet 4, I was 5 feet 11
he was a detective on the cincinnat police force, 235 pounds
I was an art school student, and a meditator... 165 pounds.

Time after tiem, he did his trick foot sweeps,
everytime I was on the way down, I launched a punch into his gut.
everytime.

He couldn't stop me.... I couldn't stop him.

On and on it went, while I was hobbling with a dislocated little toe, and he claimed I was faking that,..

I never went back to that gym again.

I never respected the master in the shadows who called the shots from a distance.

I held a grudge for too long.


Sometiems i wish I could go visit Ray, and see where his life took him.

He'd sure see that everytime I was in such similar battles, over these many years,
...whether with friends, or in business, or other arenas, or other territories, or using other tools or methods,

I ofrten left the arena,

right on the verge of winning.

I could see, then, as I see... now,

that the very same skills for a symbolic fight, can save your life when it's real,

but if it's not real enough...

it means nothing to win.

...

the surpize of life is going to show up for everybody.

something is going to sweep you off your feet.

maybe a vision of beauty,

maybe a challeng in the street.

maybe the truth in your heart.

If it is real,

you get to see with new eyes.

No matter the size of your oponent,
one well placed punch in the breadbasket will take him down.

No matter how beautiful something is,
you mikght have to shoot it for your winter sustenance, to keep your family fed.


then there are those times,you get to see it all in slow motion,
or to slow it down,

and you won't know why you left early,

or went back for a requested second chance...

or stoppe r stopped in your tracks.

and your friends might call you crazy for choosing a camera instead of a gun,

or paddling your kayak to work in your business suit.



but eventually... you'll get to tell the story ...

and how you met up with the invisible wind.. one day...

and it blew you to a balcony.


stretch out... make peace with the journey from here to there.


and get ready to figure out a way to maintain the balance.


so you can help walk and talk others through the illusion of doubt,

and back to the art in their heart.


you ART Heart... you!


www.ARTintoLIFE.com


http://www.zazzle.com/toekneestanger*