Mysterious Ways

Since we were so, ahem, serendipitously sidetracked yesterday, I think it proper to pick it up where we left it off. The topic was the mysterious and magical workings of the universe. Not in the physical or scientific sense, but in the unexplained, misunderstood or even (the one that Hollywood likes), the paranormal. As an altogether unnecessary example, do you think there is a connection between the dystopian society currently being created by the cabal of republican criminals and the release of intel suggesting that US Navy pilots have been seeing a sharp increase of UFO sightings? Strange? True? Odd? Coincidence? Or are we just now realizing the reality that we are not alone, and that every action, thought, random act of cruelty (or kindness) has a ripple effect on everyone and everything else? All begging the question: Who is in really charge here?

I offered an example yesterday, an old adage about my infamous baseball career. It was 1972. I was captain of the reigning Metro League champions, the LA Pierce Brahmas. While nowhere near the talent levels of our prior team of the prior season, we got off to a hot start winning on heart, hustle and reputation. Baseball can be like that. No matter how bad they currently might be, the Yankees will always have the aura, mystique and mojo manufactured by Ruth, Gehrig, DiMaggio, Mantle and Berra, the legends that turned pinstripes into navy blue capes. 

One humid late spring day I am sitting in our locker room deep in angst. The day before we knocked the snot out of one of our league rivals. I had a particularly good day, and we were undefeated in the defense of our crown. I had school, work, auto and most importantly, girl issues to deal with alongside the upside of baseball. As I walked the oak tree lined half-mile from the locker room to our practice field I tried the self-motivation trick of accentuating the good (baseball) while discounting the not-so-good (everything else). It was working and by the time I had reached the field I was (again) cocky, arrogant and filled to the brim of my cap with the false energy of ego. We will talk more about that later. 

The response of the universe to my self-deception was to order a grey squirrel to drop an acorn on my head. 

Interrupting the message, I immediately returned to a more humble state and we had a good, spirited and productive workout. 

After practice we are walking back to the lockers when the coach, a man I greatly respected, gives me a shoulder slap and a ‘way to be a leader out there today,’ quip. 

As much as I wanted to say, ‘coach if you only knew’, I muttered a muted thanks. 

It took a single acorn to wake me up. Shackled to misery and doubt, questioning my every motivation, confused and anxious about my future and frustrated by the past, even today the reminder that it is the present moment that matters most, fills my spirit with gratitude. There is a certain solace in the acceptance of the process of our growth. I know that now, but not then. 

I can sometimes picture the squirrel in that giant oak tree saying, as he takes aim at the poor struggling kid beneath him, ‘Do not worry about the past, it is over. Do not fear the future for it is not yet here. Be present, stay awake, enjoy the game and do your best.’ Fire one. 

Direct hit.

Ouch.

The squirrel works in mysterious ways.