The threefold awareness in transformation

What does a year of living out of suitcases, a year without furniture or a home address teach you? How do you see the world when you have no tripod or fixed point of view. This is not the post I set out to write, but somehow it is the one that emerged as words started flowing. In a way it is only fitting as this year was not a journey that was planned, strategic or intentional.

I am you

The year has been filled with friendship. Old friends whom I hadn't seen for 26 years, new friends with whom a deep spiritual connection must have existed before we even met. The year has included (in chronological order) Costa Rica, London, Cologne, Frankfurt am Main, Stockholm, Berlin, Tegernsee, Munich, Derby, Bali, Singapore, New Zealand, Nuremberg, Mallorca, Berliiiiiiin, New York, Denver, Medford, Portland OR, Middletown CA, Palo Alto, San Francisco, Santa Cruz, Mt Hood, Open tent somewhere in Utah desert, Helsinki, Cape Town, Kalk bay, Johannesburg, Pretoria, Magaliesburg, Pilanesburg, Lodz, Buxton, Leeds. (Duplications and miles and miles of mountain walks not noted).

In connecting to so many people in so many places the most persistent thought is the sense of genuine connection we all share through our humanity. The journey I am undertaking is the journey everyone undertakes on a day to day basis. The distorted lens of flights and passport controls has only served to bring this basic human quest in focus. No matter where or who you are, we are all on a journey to add meaning and substance to the life we have been given.

Once in a meeting with Stefano Marzano I thanked him for taking the time out of his schedule. His answer: "we all have the same number of hours in the day." A profound insight about the choices we make in filling each hour with substance. In this instance it made me acutely aware of my responsibility towards him; to fill the hour with 60 minutes worth of value. In this regard every one of use faces every day with the challenge of filling it with our unique biography, a contribution that transcends the escape velocity of the hours lent to it by creating a substantial shift in the people around us. The value of the journey is not measured by the places you have seen, it is measured by the lives you have touched.

So, you are me. The travel catalogue of daily adventures mapping kindness, generosity and the conversations people will have, when you are not there.

I am not you
Having roots, a home and the network of support that grows organically from seeing the same sights every morning, provides a sense of stability. Time and again I have seen peace in the eyes of those who have lived in the same place, dwelled along the same paths, all their lives. Is it an innate sense of calm that leads one to feel content with your home environment, eschewing adventure, like Bilbo Baggins? Or does having a home create the calm that fills these environments with a content happiness? I don't know which way the causality runs but a foundation gives you more than the obvious stability, it gives you a calm energy.

This calm energy is well suited for constructive arts. The patience of building a house, watching a community develop. The patience of waiting for the seasons to carry a crop to bare.

Over the past year my energies have been channeled into facilitation, connection and contradiction. By not being embedded in a fulcrum of production, the "touch and go" contributions I have been able to make feel like the platinum plate of a catalytic convertor; consumed in and by its use, leaving nothing behind but an altered quality of experience. The delivery of the experience, the real value has to be realized by someone who takes anchor and works with the now, the space and the physical possibilities of the "sit-you-ation."

You are not you

A long time ago I had a vision of an individual life's trajectory. I imagined a thin glowing white silken line stretched between someone's parents, and their counterpoint. Looking at this thin line I saw how people were running back and forth on this thin white line, to either manifest what their parents represented (in the words of the Cowboy Junkies: "become their mothers and fathers without a sound") or to try hell for leather to be the opposite. How strange I thought that no one dared to step outside the silken thread of two dimensional connection. How many alternate versions of you could there be if neither one of these two poles was an actual definition of your destiny.

By being on the shiny certainty of confirmation/contradiction we are mostly blinded by the binary nature of our "yes/no" choices. But there lies a universe beyond what we see in front of use. The choice you face today is not: "shall I go to work or stay at home." The choice is rather, how many different places are there out there where my true potential could illuminate a more meaningful contribution.

We underestimate who we are and the true power of our thoughts and actions because for the most part, the measure of success and meaning is flawed. If there is one thing the past year has taught me, it is that staying in Plato's cave turns you into a caveman. Once you let go of what you hold to be manifest truth, a new version of you emerges that has not been defined by the "accepted" interplay of light and darkness. The image of you reflected in your job, your family or your immediate set of friends are not the whole truth of who you are. When you let go of the silken strand of identity, you immediately embrace something much bigger.

The grim repairer

Last week I took an old and well travelled bag in for repair. I purchased the bag in 2004 for about $250. Since then it has literally been around the world 4 times and in this journey has become a standard part of my on boarding routines. The perfect shape and size for laptop, in flight reading and a pair of overnights. But then in February this year, the zipper broke and it was not safe to carry its little load. In Denver I found a luggage repair store and they now have it in their care for $40 and a shot at reuniting us.

But is this now a lost or even redundant art? Is the art of growth inside the experience being supplanted by the skill of search and discovery? Milan's iPod had a similar issue. The volume buttons got stuck and the repair would cost more than $200. The friendly Apple people would gladly take the old one as a trade in contribution towards the purchase of a new one, as long as it resulted in shifting something from their shelves. Apple is not alone in their pursuit of new sales as apposed to share of experiences. New sales and production determine market share and trajectory in the eyes of analysts. This reality all but removes the incentive to build things that can be repaired. Planned obsolescence is now a de facto requirement for company valuation.

Is my nagging discomfort with this state of things simply a fading remnant of misplaced morality? Recently I read a quote form a couple who had been married for 80 years. When asked how they had made it so long, the husband said: "We grew up in a time where when something was broken, you fixed it."

When I look at the reality for my kids though, there is almost nothing that either prompts them to, or reminds them of the waning art of repair. Awareness is shaped and rewarded by the constant streams on screens. Where friendship clicks only serve to fill your news feed and everyone needs followers only to believe in themselves. No one has time to retrace their steps, revisit decisions and reconnect with lost ones. And through this lack of exercise, the repair muscles become atrophied in favor of search and discovery skills.

The hidden cost of this though, is that there are certain dimensions of our personality that we can only discover through the process of rebuilding relationships. We never see or even know this growth exists if we only have speed dated, limited shelf live, match.coms with single soccer moms/Johns. The seratonin kicks of "new and exciting" can now sustain itself through the all you can eat smorgasbord of new connections available on the web. In this world it is frankly illogical to take on the heartache and opportunity cost of repair, when selective search can instantly bring a new beginning. And it is easier to mould a two month persona where every conversation is being held for the first time. You are in control of your limited exposure id-entity. Neither repair nor recovery, which are only learnt though moving beyond failure, are needed or developed. Failure now prompts a new search outside, instead of resourcefulness inside.

But how can people learn this if their context shouts against sticking to something? Are they trapped in a catch 22 where a failure to develop repair and recovery skills leads to an inability to know or develop these skills?

I took my kids to the tiny luggage store, dusty and hidden away in a corner of the industrial outskirts of Denver. We also spent the day visiting pawn shops, to reflect on the cast away lives and hopes that had no more value than a few dollars, and the trade in value towards a shiny new thing. I am sure there will soon be an app for that.

Beyond Bali

I was told that the Balinese dialect does not have a word for art. As I slowly became more and more immersed in the rituals and cadence of daily village life I could begin to see why not.

The Hindu framework through which so many people access the world around them provides meaning and space for everything around you. Every room in the house has role to play, every tree has a purpose in its construction. The innate quality of something transposes into its purpose. Extended to people and their identity, one discovers a real place and purpose through contribution. A selflessness imbues everything you touch and tasks are conducted in a clear devotion. "I give myself completely into this task."

Making breakfast, sweeping the yard, entertaining guests; every task becomes outpouring/selflessness. By being thus emptied, you transcend self to live an artful life. The word becomes redundant when it abounds and pervades the typography of your biography.

Balinese musicians, artists and dancers live very plain lives. The belief is that the beauty of the performance is only channeled through them, not of them. Their art only lives in so much as they are able to let go of themselves. This self therefore has no celebrity outside of the act of consecration in art. In fact, the greater the individual ego, the smaller the chance of being artful.

The result is that one finds happiness, even in small tasks. The degree to which you can pour your whole self into the task provides a huge sense of value and connection. The presence process of happiness.

What a contrast to the Western view of management and work. One is hardly ever encouraged to engage yourself in a task that can be all consuming. Instead we are made acutely aware of the transactional value of labour. One is not encouraged to be true to yourself, but rather to find your true value and hold on to it. What if the true value and beauty of a life could only be achieved by letting go of the self?

The fear of being exploited or manipulated brings on the protection mechanisms, creating opportunities for cynical dismissiveness. "Oh, I didn't think they were going to buy that in any case..." Holding back, holding out, feeding anxiety.

How would the way we engage with daily tasks change if we viewed every one of them as an act of outpouring? Do you live in the document/the strategy/the design you created? Is your 'art' so self evident that it doesn't need a word?