You may have heard of the biblical story of The Three Wise Men. In a brief telling, these visitors (anywhere actually from 2-12 in number) traveled from different and across many lands, with a star as their guide. The star led them to the place where a child, the infant Jesus, and his family were resting in their own journey home. This meeting has become known as the "epiphany"--a word which also means, "the sudden realization or comprehension of the essence or meaning of something." Regardless of your religious background, these travelers poetically symbolize how we, humanity, wander through life looking for direction, looking for clarity, looking for meaning, looking.
Often, we're not though. Looking that is. We THINK we are. We THINK we know where we are, where we are going, and that we're in control. We THINK a lot of things. Or rather, I do. I'm often so busy thinking I miss the real issue, the real obstacles, the real moment. Fortunately, in my own uncoordinated, clumsy journey through life, sometimes there are stars that have guided me. My personal prophets, like Mo...
Mo, of the "what about me" saga, is a sage beyond his years, purely by his actions and simply by being. However, nothing Mo did was simple and his actions and voice were bold, always. Of course, as I see it, they had to be...cause I'm so busy with my THINKING and DOING that I need to be hammered over the head to get it(perhaps a little like another group of 3's...Stooges, anyone?).
The book of Mo, as I write it, has this as Moral #2: look, pay attention, YOU are in YOUR own way. AND here is the parable:
You knew he had arrived even before you saw him. You could hear him from anywhere in the building. His voice was a presence unto itself, heralding his arrival. The energy swarmed about him as did the other children--they, mostly in a panic, trying to avoid his flailing arms and erratic, unpredictable directions. One second, he would be lock-in-step with the group, casually walking towards a common goal, breakfast; suddenly, as if his life depended on it, he'd be dashing through the room, plowing over others, including teachers, tables, and very large, heavy bookshelves, to be sure to get there first.
Mo was often seen and heard shouting, "Who hit me? You! You hit me!" after knocking into and over another child. The children learned quickly that this was their warning to move back or duck, because, yes, he's about to swing. His was a defensive approach to life, protecting himself from the forces he couldn't see or control but thought he knew. Their's, of course, became about getting through the day without an attack.
We, the teachers and children, practiced our best "I" messages when Mo struck, hoping to help him take a different perspective. The teaching staff would watch intensely, like children jumping rope, waiting for the moments to jump in, hoping to get teachable moments or, at the very least, prevent warfare. We tried over and over to help him see how the other child was not the cause of the incident but he didn't see it that way, he couldn't, no way! That is, until, the lonely day in the desert...okay, it was a sandbox and he wasn't really alone, BUT, it was profound, and it did open his eyes, and mine.
One morning, after breakfast, while the other children were huddled in a corner in fear (alright, maybe just reading and building in the "construction zone"), Mo was busily darting around the tables, looking in every direction but the one in which he was going. Suddenly, he careened into the sand table, knocking himself to the floor. He immediately jumped up ready for a fight, fists raised, exclaiming, "Who hit me?" And then...looking around the room...he realized NO ONE was around him. There was a sudden stillness and quiet in the room. Then...with his eyes locked on mine, a smile began to replace his serious stone expression. And with a knee slap, he actually barreled over in laughter, falling back down to the floor.
Mo's wisdom returns often, especially when I get so busy thinking, planning, protecting, controlling, deciding that I forget the being, just seeing. I'm a slow learner...I seem to need a lot of sand table collisions, stars and noisy prophets.
