I spent another long day in another hospital yesterday, waiting for news on another woman I love who is battling cancer. Different time, different hospital…different cancer. The same stressful, tedious moments watching for a change on the surgical monitor, the same slower than usual stroll towards the cafeteria because you’re thinking about, well, everything. The same, soothing color of the corridor walls that in the back of your mind, you know were painted that color for that purpose. The same tension you try to control as you sit in the same little consultation room, waiting for the surgeon to come through the door and give you the debrief. You try to listen, comprehend and stay composed (I didn’t), while they go over the procedure and deliver the prognosis. The same feeling of relief and compassion as the transport team wheels her bed into the hospital room where she’ll stay for the next few days. The same ride home in the dark with no music because the sound of the road under your car is the first sound you’ve had some control over all day. The same shot of bourbon in the same easy chair before you turn in and realize the long road ahead.
Yet, in the midst of the chaos and fear of a life-saving surgery, God lets you know that you’re not alone. Family and good friends who spend the day with you while wait and help to divert your mind with seemingly trivial conversation. Phone calls and texts messages from everyone important in your life, offering encouragement, prayer and peace. And moments of ironic laughter, like the older lady who sat next to us in the waiting room. Well-dressed and hard of hearing, her voice carried over my brother’s (not an easy task) as she told us everything about the daughter she was waiting on, about her country club, physical ailments, the soup she was slurping, etc. We’ve all been there; that cringy, uncomfortable conversation that you politely sit through with someone you don’t know. Now I know why my dad turns his hearing aids off and just sits, smiles and nods his head. Smart man, my dad.
But that’s the beauty in situations like this; despite the terrible reason you’re there, God provides moments. He doesn’t come in with chariots and an army; rather, He sends family and friends to temper your feelings. He provides slivers of laughter, like the guy sitting on the commode in the public bathroom, talking to his girlfriend, (maybe?), while soundly completing the task a commode is designed for. How do you do that? It doesn’t really matter. I shook my head, laughed a little and finished up my own business, forgetting momentarily why I was there.
If it’s one thing I’ve learned through all these experiences, it’s this; life was never meant to be an easy, seamless process where we all have wonderful childhoods, great college experiences, fantastic, life-long jobs with ever-growing salaries that pay for growing families in cute little neighborhoods where everybody takes care of their lawns and has summer block parties. Where there is no war, no disease, no terrible accidents, no crimes against humanity. A place where you’re never sick and when it’s time to leave, you leave in your sleep. We all know this fairytale and yet, many of us seek it to the point where we’re shocked when we get hit with a big dose of reality. And what is that reality? This ain’t Heaven. People throughout the ages have sought a utopia on earth only to realize it doesn’t exist. Don’t believe me? Ask some of the first poor souls who bought into Communism or a Ponzi scheme. There will always be disease, crime, war, hurricanes, floods, poverty, racism, lies, deceit, pain and death. We can mitigate and minimize these realities, do our best to avoid them, but they will always exist, even if on the periphery of our lives.
And in the end, the way to contend with reality is through careful, often difficult personal choices that lead to discipline and perseverance. You cannot have one without the other. For me, the consistent study and practice of martial arts along with faith at times no big than a mustard seed, has helped me to deal with certain realities. First; there’s always somebody bigger, stronger, faster and more skilled than you. If you stick with it long enough, you get your moment in the sun, but it’s temporary at best. So, stop trying to be better than everybody; instead, be better than you were yesterday. Second, your body has a timeline and certain parts are going to breakdown no matter what. Rather than trying to do the stuff you could do in your 20s an 30s, focus on your skills and abilities in your 50s and 60s. You’ll live longer and happier. Lastly, don’t worry so much about rank, status and titles. If, God forbid, you are ever on the wrong end of a gun, none of that crap matters one damn bit. Instead, pursue your art (and your life) with passion and tenacity and eventually you develop the ability to cope with reality.
Live your days with the realization that they are numbered. You will appreciate them more as well as the people in your life. Chose to take the narrow path that others seeking utopia try to avoid. Do that, and long days in the hospital, while painful and nerve-racking, are far more doable. Love fiercely, and say what’s on your heart while the people around you can hear and comprehend it. Because the reality is, this is not our home planet. It’s a stopover. The trip is meant to teach you something, so don’t take the highway; take the scenic route. Pull over once in a while and appreciate the view. Hold somebody while you’re doing that. And realize, you’re being held too.
Dave Magliano
Tatsu Dojo
Jissenkan Budo
Dojo Cho
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