February 22, 2005
After that slightly dark post, I decided to shake it off with something more positive.
If you haven't seen the movie Signs with Mel Gibson, I recommend it. Despite the strange back story of alien invasion, and yes, I think it is the back story, there is a wonderful message in there. Despite the challenges that come to us in life, there may be a reason behind it all. That's the story line as I see it.
On my honeymoon, I decided to do something I had said I would never, never do (lesson: never say never). Sitting in the hotel bar, overlooking the beautiful lagoon of Bora Bora, I said "if I were to ever get a tattoo, it would be somewhere like this. Somewhere where it would have special meaning for me." Next thing you know, I'm on a table in a little shack on the side of the road. This guy is drawing on my leg with the same dedication as Picasso. My leg was contorted during the actual needling, and I thought I'd pass out from the lack of circulation for an hour. I persevered and marveled at the single-mindedness of this artist as he continued his work. Someone was mowing their lawn across the road, and a rock flew out of the mower. I heard the rock get ejected, and when the projectile hit the little shack, it sounded like a gunshot. The guy didn't even flinch (thank goodness). The design is a Great Blue Heron styled as a traditional Tahitian tattoo. I consider the heron to be sort of my personal totem (or in Tahitian - te mana as I recall).
As much as I liked my new traveling art piece, it belatedly occurred to me that it may not have been the wisest thing to do when less than nine months later my wife drove off in our only fully functional vehicle. Where had my brain been? And no, I wasn't hammered when I decided to do this.
The answer came when Annie was about three years old. We were visiting my folks who live on a lake. It was summer, and we were swimming. Annie was having a blast jumping off the dock and swimming like a dolphin. Ok, like a dolphin with floaties on its arms. Grandpa was fishing from the boat, and looking forward to encouraging Annie to catch her first fish. My nephew, who likes to spend most of his time under the water surface, brushed against Annie's leg.
She freaked as the realization sunk in that the fishing adventure that was waiting for her was directly linked to the same body of water she was currently splashing in. There were fish in this water. The lake is fairly large (by California standards). The fish are most likely proportionately large... and have teeth... She knew. She had been to the aquarium, and had seen them. The water was murky. Who knew what prehistoric beasts were hiding in the depths.... waiting for an unsuspecting little girl to brush against them.
For the next three days, I couldn't get her in the water.
Our time was growing short for that visit, and I wanted her to have fond memories of swimming at Grandma and Grandpa's. We decided to try another venue. We went to a very shallow beach area, and Grandpa told her there weren't any fish there. She didn't buy it, even though I managed to keep her from seeing the floating fish that had lost a game of chicken with a boat.
During our time there, I pointed out the Great Blue Herons all over the lake. Somewhere along the way, I told her that they were fishing. On this last day on the water she sat on the boat, watching the water and the herons. In a moment of inspiration, I told her that the fish were afraid of me, because on my leg was a heron. Fish wouldn't come around (as evidenced by my lack of success at actually fishing). This logic seemed to appeal to her, and she spent the next couple of hours spashing and playing in the water. Success.
Finally, the purpose and connection to one of my less-than-brilliant decisions came together. There might just be a purpose for all things.
Feelin' good about life, again.
If you haven't seen the movie Signs with Mel Gibson, I recommend it. Despite the strange back story of alien invasion, and yes, I think it is the back story, there is a wonderful message in there. Despite the challenges that come to us in life, there may be a reason behind it all. That's the story line as I see it.
On my honeymoon, I decided to do something I had said I would never, never do (lesson: never say never). Sitting in the hotel bar, overlooking the beautiful lagoon of Bora Bora, I said "if I were to ever get a tattoo, it would be somewhere like this. Somewhere where it would have special meaning for me." Next thing you know, I'm on a table in a little shack on the side of the road. This guy is drawing on my leg with the same dedication as Picasso. My leg was contorted during the actual needling, and I thought I'd pass out from the lack of circulation for an hour. I persevered and marveled at the single-mindedness of this artist as he continued his work. Someone was mowing their lawn across the road, and a rock flew out of the mower. I heard the rock get ejected, and when the projectile hit the little shack, it sounded like a gunshot. The guy didn't even flinch (thank goodness). The design is a Great Blue Heron styled as a traditional Tahitian tattoo. I consider the heron to be sort of my personal totem (or in Tahitian - te mana as I recall).
As much as I liked my new traveling art piece, it belatedly occurred to me that it may not have been the wisest thing to do when less than nine months later my wife drove off in our only fully functional vehicle. Where had my brain been? And no, I wasn't hammered when I decided to do this.
The answer came when Annie was about three years old. We were visiting my folks who live on a lake. It was summer, and we were swimming. Annie was having a blast jumping off the dock and swimming like a dolphin. Ok, like a dolphin with floaties on its arms. Grandpa was fishing from the boat, and looking forward to encouraging Annie to catch her first fish. My nephew, who likes to spend most of his time under the water surface, brushed against Annie's leg.
She freaked as the realization sunk in that the fishing adventure that was waiting for her was directly linked to the same body of water she was currently splashing in. There were fish in this water. The lake is fairly large (by California standards). The fish are most likely proportionately large... and have teeth... She knew. She had been to the aquarium, and had seen them. The water was murky. Who knew what prehistoric beasts were hiding in the depths.... waiting for an unsuspecting little girl to brush against them.
For the next three days, I couldn't get her in the water.
Our time was growing short for that visit, and I wanted her to have fond memories of swimming at Grandma and Grandpa's. We decided to try another venue. We went to a very shallow beach area, and Grandpa told her there weren't any fish there. She didn't buy it, even though I managed to keep her from seeing the floating fish that had lost a game of chicken with a boat.
During our time there, I pointed out the Great Blue Herons all over the lake. Somewhere along the way, I told her that they were fishing. On this last day on the water she sat on the boat, watching the water and the herons. In a moment of inspiration, I told her that the fish were afraid of me, because on my leg was a heron. Fish wouldn't come around (as evidenced by my lack of success at actually fishing). This logic seemed to appeal to her, and she spent the next couple of hours spashing and playing in the water. Success.
Finally, the purpose and connection to one of my less-than-brilliant decisions came together. There might just be a purpose for all things.
Feelin' good about life, again.