Secret Grammar Police

Nobody remembers how it all started, but it was about thirteen years ago. I can’t go on living in this constant fear. They lurk in the shadows waiting for the slightest mistake. We need to stop running. We need to fight back.

 

Expectations

 

My experiences with Buddhism are very limited. I sat with a Zen group for a few years, decided to take the ten precepts, and became a Buddhist. Shortly after I became a Buddhist the group I sat with changed and there were expectations of the members. These expectations were not easily met. They expected time and service that, with family obligations, were unrealistic. I withdrew from the group and stopped meditating – the second of which I regret.

It is expectations that I have been struggling with of late – mine and others. I try not to have expectations. I am nowhere near perfect with this, but I try. I find that expectations lead to disappointment much more frequently than they lead to delight. As a brief example, my 4-year-old has an expectation about how his sandwich should be cut – on the diagonal or straight across. If I cut it the right way everything is fine. No delight; just fine. If I cut it the wrong way there is major disappointment. If he did not have an expectation as to how his sandwich was cut there would never be this disappointment.

Often times, when I am going to be involved in something of any importance, I run through the situation in my head. I script the event. I build the perfect situation leading to the most desirable outcome. Clearly, this will not lead to good things. I have set the bar at an unattainable height and anything short of that is going result in disappointment. I try not to do that. I am often unsuccessful.

In my experience, Zen teaches complete mindfulness about what you are doing. At this moment, I am writing this post. I have no image of the result; no expectation of its quality or its length. Because of that, I am not worrying about how this post is going to turn out; I am just writing it. That is not to say that I will not bother to edit it before I post it or that I do not care about its quality. Far from it, but the experience of writing this loses something if my mind is occupied with those things.

I am not am not an expert with this, but I find that when I try to be fully in the experience of what I’m doing and I have no expectation for the result that I am happier for it. When you have expectations about something, you prevent yourself from fully experiencing your life at that moment. This happens because you are now comparing what is happening to what you what wanted to happen. By making this comparison you are now split. Part of you is experiencing and part of you is analyzing.  At the very best the reality and your expectation coincide perfectly, but you are only half experiencing it. More likely, however, you realize that the reality does not coincide with your expectations and you are disappointed.

What happens if you remove the expectation and live fully in the moment? Now you can fully enjoy the experience for what it is—ideal or not. But also, you remove (or at least significantly reduce) the possibility of a bad experience by never setting the bar at all.

Janis

What happened? How did we get here?

I’d heard the story countless times, but it still didn’t make any sense.

It started simple. Who brought the complication to the party?

Do the math. Ha! Easier said than done.

Eviscerated by Janis Joplin.

 

200 Meter Butterfly (Long Course)

 

1:59.98

Her time got my attention. She broke the elusive two minute mark at a division III meet.

When she climbed from the pool I knew. She put Daryl Hannah to shame.

A mermaid in the water and a goddess on land.

 

 

Signs?

If I Had a Girl (Short Skirt / Long Jacket)

Hey Mami, American Girl, Southern Girl

Almost Lover, Young and Beautiful

She’s So Mean, Gives You Hell, Ring of Fire

Desire, One More Night, A Little Less Conversation

Falling in Hate, Hallelujah

The Church in Aci Castello

“He taught me how to read people’s eyes. He taught me how to anticipate their actions, how to know what they were thinking before even they did. ‘It was the eyes,’ he would say. ‘Always watch the eyes.’” Daniel explained their relationship as we stepped off the train in Catania. The warm breeze felt good in the hot, Mediterranean sun.

It was a bit of a walk to Aci Castello. Daniel went on about Antonio. “He always talked about Sicily. His grandmother lived here her whole life. Antonio loved to come visit her. He said he was going to move here when he retired.”

“Is that why you know he’ll be here,” I asked, “for his grandmother’s funeral.”

Daniel slowed his pace and stopped. He looked at the ground then raised his gaze to the sea on our right and stood like a statue deep in thought. I read his eyes. He was conflicted. He started walking again.

“Yes,” he said finally, “he loved his grandmother. There is nothing that would keep him from her funeral.” We arrived at the village and made our way to the church where the funeral was to be held.

We walked in at the back, the nave open before us. Daniel blessed himself with Holy Water and surveyed the interior in a manner that said, “We’re not really here to pray.” He did that wherever he went, a 360 degree surveillance tactic that was taught in close quarter, urban combat training as a SEAL, reinforced as a CIA field agent, and distilled to perfection – by Antonio – in his current trade. It was impressive to watch really; within two seconds Daniel could walk into a room and tell you how many people were there, their approximate ages, their sex, what they were wearing, and if they were a threat. If he expected a threat, the time to locate it was practically instantaneous.

There was no one there. Daniel turned to me and whispered, “Two in the vestry.” I had no idea how he knew. I didn’t hear anything and there was no direct line of sight. “Sit down,” followed and I took a seat at the far side of the rear most pew. If things didn’t go according to plan, I wanted to be out of the way.

Daniel walked a few rows ahead, genuflected and entered a pew. He knelt in prayer. The scene before me was both logical and ironic.

Daniel lowered his right hand and slid it into his linen jacket towards his left breast where his Sig Sauer was secured. As he did this, Antonio and the Priest walked in from the vestry. Antonio looked right at Daniel as he walked into the room as though he already knew he was there. He whispered something to the Priest. The Priest turned and left immediately.

“Ciao, Daniel,” Antonio said in a calm voice. “I’m surprised they sent you. Who’s your friend?”

Daniel sat up on the pew. “I’m teaching him the ropes.” By this time the Sig was loosed from its holster and resting on Daniel’s right thigh.

Antonio walked to the front of the high alter where his grandmother’s body lay at peace. He kissed the fingertips of his right hand and rested it on the casket. He stood for a moment as if in silent prayer and then turned towards the pews.

 “Can we take this outside?” Antonio asked knowing the answer.

“I’m sorry friend, but you were the one that taught me to never give up a tactical position.”

The corners of Antonio’s mouth turned up slightly.

The scene was linear now. Both men stood in the isle looking at each other, reading each other’s eyes. Antonio was calculating odds, evaluating routes of escape, trying to figure out if Daniel would carry out a contract on a friend as close as he was – Daniel’s eyes said he would. Daniel, Sig in hand, had the clear upper hand. He was reading Antonio’s eyes anticipating his movement, but he couldn’t help feel that something was not right. He had Antonio. There really was no escape, but his eyes… his eyes held a genuine calmness.

Our linear scene started to morph into one without logical boundaries as Daniel started to make sense of the situation. He slowly turned his head to his left and stared down the barrel of my Desert Eagle 44. He lowered his right hand to his side.

“I’m sorry, Daniel. How is it that you never saw it in my eyes?”

Trust

 

 

She was blindfolded, bound. There was complete trust, but fear always crept into her mind. That’s what made the game worth playing. I pushed the button on the stiletto, an unfamiliar sound. She drew a sharp breath and withdrew… then she smiled.