DACMan

I arrive in Bali, poised for action, ready to do, do, do. The must-do list is already too long to accomplish, so I set out at madman speed to get it all done.

My time in Bali is designed to make things happen. I’m here to make things, make ‘em well, make ‘em beautiful, and ship ‘em home. This is actually a rather silly caricature. I love Bali; I love my home, my staff, my work, my friends, my driver, the land, the food, the vibe, the culture. I laugh as much as possible; I imbibe the Bali evenings, curse the hot days, and live in gratitude for all of it, almost all the time. I’m an energizer rabbit and I don’t ever stop working for long. There are many tasks to do if the next container is going to be sent anything close to on time..

Once in awhile I worry that I am missing the Bali-state-of-being. I am questioned about this, but then again, I’m happy, completely alive, if a bit worn around the edges. Maybe I’m just in sync with the Bali vibe and creativity. Maybe the energy is so rich, I can’t help myself. Maybe I just have to make beautiful things as fast as I can.  I won’t be in Bali for long and I won’t live forever. I think this may be at the heart of the drive. It’s fun, exciting and it won’t last forever. I’m also not designed for days at the beach. The quiet of early mornings and evenings is thinking and planning time. That’s my balance, my Bali-time.

I dance through customs
Without shoes or my belt, then,
by The Man, (personally) felt

I once read in an ancient tome on the earliest forms of haiku, that anything in parenthesis didn’t count. You simply said that “extra” word over your shoulder, sotto vocce, or (however you spell it).   Try it.  It adds an imaginative twist that layers meanings and subtlety.  It vanished from use in the late 14th century. Commentator of the time claimed the nobility was getting lazy and simple minded and couldn’t think like a go board anymore.

Ok, I’ll play by the rules of today

I dance through customs
Without shoes and belt, then
Felt up by the guard

“I want ____” seems to be the mantra that gets an exceptional work-out in my mind.  Unless I’m deeply engaged in something like writing, X-country skiing, watching the Olympics, or reading, I find myself in the “I want” world.  In watching the Olympics, I’m given plenty of commercial breaks per hour to “want.”  I want that truck, I want that hair style, and I want some Doritos.  Then I realize I already have that truck in the driveway, I’m almost bald, and the Doritos are already in the bowl in front of me half eaten. When skiing, I want more snow, lighter snow, better sunglasses, a drink of water, warm feet and my back to not hurt. God!  The litany of complaints and desire reveals something.  What’s revealed is that it is a litany, like the responses in church that are unthinkingly repeated week after week, year after year.  The mantra goes on, even when we’re really engaged. When we’re not engaged, it’s obsessive. I want new shoes, a bit more cash, to be heard, understood, the kids to get along, Tommy to stop complaining.  I want a real vacation. I want this flight to be over. I want less work, more money, less noise, more love, less traffic, and more respect. I want to be more happy, less angry, more generous, less grumpy, more patient, less demanding, more kind, less __, more _, less, more, less.  The machine is off and running.
Part of the cost of “I want” is the peace, contentment, joy, satisfaction, love, happiness, relatedness, understanding, kindness, generosity, and friendship the “I want” mantra precludes.

I want more fresh snow for X-country skiing. Am I skiing? Yes. Is it amazingly beautiful? Yes. Does it feel good to use my body? Yes. Is this a great vacation? Yes. Are my wife and I loving our time together? Yes. Is the cabin warm, the hot-tub hot, the food brilliant, the Olympic skating inspiring, the writing going well? Yes, yes, yes.

Inventory: I am one to the happiest people I know. I have everything I need. I have everything I want. If I really wanted something more, I could find a way to get it. I have work I absolutely enjoy, an amazing wife and an extraordinary 26 year marriage, great and loyal friends, the incredible freedom America allows, three cultures to live in and draw upon (India, Indonesia and America), good health, beautiful homes, extensive travel, rich experiences, plenty of talent and intelligence, and a reasonably balanced mind and spirit. And yet I want.  Like clockwork, I want more, less, different, or better.  It’s an incessant habit, unless I’m fully engaged in life or just watching this want-habit’s performance.

So my quest is for freedom: freedom from want.  When I’m not wanting, I already have everything I want and I can and do take pleasure in what is.  What’s left at that point is pure graditude.

Control is one of the grandest illusions of all time. This illusion is pervasive and deliberate, but also invisible and unconscious. We really believe we are in control of our lives. The true lack of control of what happens to and around us is masked by routines which form the parameters of daily life. We’ve also made subtle agreements with those around us concerning who controls what areas of our work, home and social worlds. This way either we are personally in control or accept another’s control. In the background we remind ourselves we can change their control over us any time we want, so again, we aren’t faced with the prospect/reality of living a life we can’t really control.

This illusion of control is unmasked a hundred times a day, but we cling to the illusion like a life raft after a shipwreck. When is the last time you missed a green light, were in a traffic jam, got hit in a parking lot, had a call dropped on your cell phone, or had an appointment canceled? We accept these are breaks in control routinely, but still believe we control our lives. The real breakdowns in the illusion of control come when there is an injury or death in our immediate sphere. That’s undeniable proof that we are not running the show.

So what if it’s an illusion? I like the feeling of control rather than chaos. So what if I’m a control freak? It works for me just fine. At the center of control is the big “I”. I can do what I want, when, and how I want etc., unless of course, something intervenes. “I” is of course, the center of the universe.

Unfortunately “I” isn’t the center and I have limited, sporadic control of life. The best I might do to prove control is say “I will smoke this cigarette now,” and do it. Of course where and when that can happen is becoming more and more limited. It also begs the question, “If you are in control, can you not smoke that or any other cigarette for the next 6 months?” It’s just a thought. It applies to a 1,000 things in my life, when I look. The illusion is in any case shattered, and yet I believe or have a habit of believing.

The question that arises is, “What’s the cost of wanting to or needing to control everything? If we’re fighting for control, it’s pretty hard to recognize and allow good stuff to happen. It’s the same with the bad stuff. The “control world” is unreal and dangerous. It’s also a world that promotes frustration and anger from not getting what we want, when we want it.

What helps unlock the gearbox of control? A slam-dunk is to travel to a new place with a language we don’t know. Lack of control is omnipresent, but I can almost accept that in a foreign but exciting and rewarding setting. None-the-less, it is a constant reminder of the reality of no control. Other ways? If I am for a moment angry, upset or frustrated, for sure it’s from something I would like to control and couldn’t.

The bottom line is that wanting and needing control precludes almost everything else I need and want, from great friendships to a clear and healthy mind and body. The truth is: “We do what we do and get what we get.” Period. Or “It is what it is.” I need to let go a bit. I can’t truly control life anyway.