| I ran into my dear friend Jonathan Gramling at Africa Fest 2006 at Warner Park. He was standing in front of a little tent with open sides proudly and enthusiastically tucking copies of "The Capital City Hues" under the arms of passersby. Some of us remember when James Brown was called the hardest working man in show business. Jonathan Gramling is the hardest working journalist, photographer, and chronicler of life in this community. He is everywhere. His camera is an appendage. His smile and energy are infectious and engaging. I am proud, privileged and happy to call him my friend. And where you find Jonathan, another dear friend of mine is usually somewhere in the vicinity. Many of you know Heidi Pascual. I don't remember how it came to be, but she calls me brother, and I feel honored that she regards me in this way. Heidi and Jonathan are like thunder and lightning. Where you find one, the other is nearby. I've been to more community events than I can recall, but there was something different about Africa Fest 2006. Maybe it was because I had made the decision to leave Dane County government where I had worked in the County Executive's Office for nearly 14 years. I worked under two different administrations in three different positions. And not long before working on the county side of the City-County Building, I was a Madison police officer for a little under 10 years. The City-County Building had been an integral part of my life for nearly one-quarter century. The experience had been positive in many ways. I got to contribute to the community in ways that made me feel good and the paychecks were predictable. And as is the case with everything, there were costs. Children became women and men and I suspect that I missed some of the less obvious changes. Relationships changed. Being overly attentive to the problems of others sometimes meant letting my own difficulties grow to epidemic proportions when a mere pill would have cured the malady had I been paying attention. All my jobs in the City-County Building required hurriedly trying to balance several sets and subsets of needs simultaneously -- a feat commonly referred to as multi-tasking. I knew while in the midst of it that there was something inherently wrong. Now that I've been retired for a whole five days, I can say emphatically that multi-tasking and racing from one thing to another at breakneck speed are the banes of this culture. How many times have you had someone give you the finger, blow their horn, shake their fist at you, and tear down the road only to sit in the lane next to you at a stop light three blocks later? The difference between you and the irate driver -- assuming you didn't get pulled into the madness -- was that his blood pressure was shooting through the sunroof as you enjoyed a sweet Miles Davis trumpet note wrapped in a tune that floated out of the CD player of your car. The day that I ran into Jonathan at Africa Fest 2006 was the day that I began to take a new look at what nourished me versus what depleted me. It was the day when I honestly asked myself whether I wanted a steady diet of up-to-the-minute local or national news or spending time with the Rubiyat by Omar Kayaam or the Prophet by Kahlil Gibran. It was the day when I decided that I would be open to my own tendencies, my own heart, my own yearnings, and my own way to open myself to the infinite possibilities of the Universe. It was the day when I realized and felt and knew that the prerequisite to being open was shedding enough existing stuff (or maya -- the illusion of separateness -- as described in Hindu texts) to allow the new possibilities to enter, to fill the void, because voids demand to be filled as soon as they are created. It's all a matter of timing because time is our most precious commodity. It was also important for me to remember that working in the County Executive's Office was precisely what I yearned for a considerable time before I actually got the opportunity to make that ambition manifest. There is a time for all things. What I needed in 1989 is not what I need today. I felt lightness on the day of Africa Fest 2006 — room to breathe, a flowing gait and a smile that lit up my whole body. Even my elbows grinned. Many people are fond of saying that it is critical to know your past before charting your future. That's fine. I see the logic and wisdom in that statement. But I have another thought that has more meaning for me at this time in my life, and it goes something like this: You have to know where you are before you move forward if you want to increase your chances of getting to where you want to go. You have to know where you are now because you exist in this very moment, this very breath. All the events that preceded this beat of our hearts have led us here, and here is where we are. When asked if you had it all to do over again, would you make the same choices? Some say yes and others say no. What I'm trying to say is that it doesn't matter because we are here and the breath that we are in the middle of now is the only second that we have for sure. Africa Fest 2006 was a magical day in a non-dramatic way. I have come to believe that our most illuminating moments are not usually preceded by blaring trumpets or the sky opening up to reveal blinding light. The road to Damascus is whatever road you happen to be on now. The expanding of our possibilities happens in the midst of ordinary, day-to-day life. Maybe the big difference is how we happen to see things on any given day. I strolled through the gauntlet of food, clothing, jewelry, African crafts, newspaper hawkers, music, dancing, drum making, and assorted folks proclaiming the virtues of their respective political candidates or parties. I dodged the flurry of multi-colored brochures and leaflets, each promoting a good cause. But I was open to new possibilities in the midst of this familiar scene. I gave Jonathan a big hug when I saw him. I told him that I was retiring from county government and that September 8 would be my last day. I told him that for me retirement did not mean sitting on my back porch whittling wooden duck decoys. It would mean being able to buy a few months of my life to do whatever I wanted to do. Time to work in my psychological and spiritual garden to decide what needed pulling and what needed additional nurturing regardless of whether the growing things fit the classic definitions of plants or weeds. Time to put my agenda first to see what it would feel like to give that horse its head. Time to get reacquainted with the idea that it is silly to try to push rivers because rivers flow by themselves. I confess that the last sentiment is not mine. I borrowed it from a book entitled "Don't Push the River, It Flows by Itself." I don't remember if I liked the book, but I continue to love the title. Right there on the spot, Jonathan offered me the opportunity to write a regular column for "The Capital City Hues." I gladly accepted without hesitation. I told Jonathan that the name of my column would be "Simple Things" and that I had thought about doing a regular column by that name for a long time, but didn't know in what publication I wanted it to appear. Another interesting development unfolded while I talked with Jonathan: Rockameem, the master drummer, heard my retirement announcement and told me that I'd better keep my bags packed. He uttered those words with such conviction that I took them to heart. Jonathan looked at me and asked if I knew what Rockameem meant. I told him that I did and left it at that. It is part of my journey to let thoughts, perceptions and the things we "just know" incubate before tucking them away in neat little intellectual cubbies. I'll let you know how it all evolves. Thank you for accompanying me on my first journey into Simple Things. I'll talk with you again when my wife and I get back from Belize. |
| Simple things/ Lang Kenneth Haynes We are here |
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