That wasn’t the plan

T. McCabe

My head said ‘this is the plan’

And my heart said ‘no’

My brain said we should do this

And my soul said ‘no way’

My guidance councilor suggested a direction

My spirit said ‘you must be kidding’

So I gave up thinking

and started dreaming

and my heart and spirit aligned and applauded

but my  parents, colleagues, and all around me

screamed, all said ‘you’re crazy’

I held my tongue and my heart

lined up my dream through a riffle’s eye

And held the trigger and target in the crosshairs,

through all the doleful years of mediocre humdrum

until there was the first opening,

and bang, off it went

my dream and I, both shot through a barrel

and the dream replaced the plan.

And now when I plan

I have better aim:

I ask my spirit if it’s crazy enough.

Iambuses—An Unplanned Poem

Mary Westcott

This line took time to plan its useless demise.

My wish to write of glorious autumn leaves

fell slightly to the right of bubbly brooks.

One almost wants some wind and a hearty breeze.

Autumn this year might just be a defeat:

just bitter rains without any signs of sun,

then a winter of storms and snow without end.

I welcome iambic plans for this sad poem

and a rainbow of autumn trees for Fall’s demise.

That wasn’t the plan

T. McCabe

September 2011

The subject this month is near and dear to my heart.  ‘That wasn't the plan’ seems to be the organizing principle of my life. It was not only the case that my life direction and events were not planned, they in fact were exactly the opposite of what I thought was my plan.

When I was young I had two pronounced fears -- -- they were palpable and visceral. One fear was of being in the business world. The dishonesty and under handed dealings seemed treacherous and something I did not want to deal with -- -- it seemed like a very cruel and uncaring environment and I heard many stories of good people getting crushed.

The second visceral fear was a public speaking. I would almost break out in a cold sweat watching other people at the podium. I couldn't imagine handling stage fright and I was certain this would be the absolute last thing I would ever do. I did notice, however, identifying with the speakers and searching for the fitting and appropriate word -- --   I thought I often found the more suitable phrase or wording.

Not only were these galvanizing phobias but I took no academic course work and had no training at all in either business or public speaking. By now you've figured out where my career took me -- -- right in the cross hair of what I feared the most -- -- I owned my own business and gave frequent public presentations.

I never really learned the nuances of running a company. I made it successful by making the profit margins so ridiculously high that I never had to bother with the detailed planning of cash flow or concern myself with taking a loan. I always had a certain form of stage fright but the message I carried and was committed to was bigger than my fear -- -- somehow I rose above my fear. The fear of my business failing usurped the fear of public speaking.  More so,  I focused on the dream of my business succeeding and that inspiration swallowed up any fear of public speaking.

The principle here is to latch onto a bigger dream with more energy and more force than the power of your fears. It wasn't like I overcame my fears; it was more like the dream superseded them -- -- they were never conquered, they just took a backseat.

Synchronicity played a huge role in my life. I did have several plans but they were replaced by the synchronicity and good luck of meeting other very successful people, and in some sense emulating their success. I had several conversations with people that were leaders in their field and they became defacto mentors – there were only a few encounters but that’s all it took. Surprisingly they were delighted to describe their path to success and enthusiastically encouraged me to give it a go.

My latest ‘not the plan’ experience was an intentional redirection. In November 2010 on a flight home from Greece it struck me that I had let my life get flat and hollow. I use lists all the time and always have a ‘ to do’ list at hand. So I started a ‘never do’ list of the things I never do --- made myself write down stuff I never do and have never done.  I came up with about six items --- things I never do but a person like me might well do.  Not a bucket list, more like a blind spot list.

Then two interesting things happen. First I got a phone call out of the blue about going to a retreat; to which I gave the same knee jerk answer I always do --- ‘no, I don’t do retreats’.  After I realized that retreats would qualify for my ‘never do’ list it dawned on me to give it a try. The St Louis Parish September 2010 ACTS Retreat was one of the best experiences of my life.

Second, there are many new things I have been doing off my ‘never do’ list that are turning out just great. It has required dropping a few erstwhile obsessive hobbies – which itself turned out to be a gift.  Another gift is not offhandedly dismissing ideas from others -- I listen more now and frequently hear wonderful ideas that I had been blind to.

All my life has not been 'the plan’; it turned out so much better. And while I appreciate and rejoice the great place not following  ‘the plan’ took me,  I look back at ‘the plan’ and have a good chuckle. If you want to hear God laugh, show Him your plan.

Unfinished Conversations -- Linda Fotheringill

The

Conversation

of two

with all already said

and all said and said again

as if there is nothing  more to say

is silent.

Yet…

so painfully

Unfinished.

Unfinished Conversations - Sally Huss

"From the Dyslexic Mind"

The man said, "Write on 'Unfinished Conservations'." It seemed illogical to her, but she proceeded:

Do you think there will ever be a time when unfinished conservations are finished?

Do you think there will ever be a time when protections and savings will be unnecessary -- when we live in such harmony with ourselves, each other, and nature that conservations of any kind will be unthinkable because they will be unnecessary?

Too much use of too many things, too much work, too many of us to pay attention to what is being lost. Thus our conservations come into being, grabbing at the things we'd like to save, if only we could. And, they remain unfinished. Wherever you look another is needed.

Will there ever be a time when unfinished conservations are finished? Not in our lifetime or even in a hundred lifetimes, but some day -- yes. And when they are, life with be golden!

Then she thought about the subject again. No. No. He must have meant, "Unfinished Conversations." So she proceeded again:

When he started to say what he was about to say, I said, "Stop!" I knew before he finished, actually before he really began what he was going to say. It made no sense to me to continue. Words are a shallow expression of knowing. Feeling is deeper and silence is deeper still.

And so he stopped. I stopped him. But, I knew he needed to say something, if only to speak. It was wrong of me to stop his thought, even if I knew his meaning.

And so the conversation remained unfinished. No words were spoken; an exchange was lost. I will be silent next time, I promised myself.

Good, she thought. Either way, "Unfinished Conservations" or "Unfinished Conversations," she would be covered. After all it was just moving a few letters around.

The Lake Camp, Unfinished Conversations -- Mary Westcott

I think of all the muddy bottoms of lakes
Like the one outside Troy, New York. I remember
My Grandmother’s camp there with linoleum
Floors and the musty smells of wicker
And rollaway beds. I remember getting tangled
In seaweed in that lake I learned to swim in,
the rowboat that took us far out and my fear
of the black snake on the path to my aunt’s
Cabin. I can taste the blackberries by the side
of the road we picked that pricked our fingers
For that tart fruit and black smudge on our hands
And tongue. I remember the pine smells, the acid
Taste of lemonade, bitter yet sweet.

The Trees Talk --- Mary Westcott

I hear them speaking to each other
in proud tones of strength, I see how
we don’t notice them. They look down
on us and think “why do you worry?”
About being too fat, too thin, too tall,
too dark. We are here to watch over
the daffodils in the field, the wet ground,
to shade your fears, to allow your tears
to fall like the rain on our branches.
Can’t you see we accept all differences,
patiently standing on firm earth?
I don’t hear them and walk on.

Mary L. Westcott