Shadows

Growing up in a conservative protestant denomination I was suspect when I chose to go to a state school rather than a church college.  At that point I was headed into civil engineering which the church college did not offer.  As I prepared to head to Stillwater the dad of the girl next door (ok, across the street) pulled me aside to warn me about the philosophy classes at OSU.  “Those philosophy professors will lead you astray!”  

Being suspect has remained a theme with me.  

Second semester of my freshman year I had philosophy.  It was in that class that we read Plato’s Allegory of the Cave which has been one of the most descriptive and powerful things I’ve ever read.  It described what this dad was advising me in a way.  

If you’ve not read it (do so) but the short Malloy paraphrase is—several guys are in a cave seated on a bench able to only look forward—a wall is before them.  Behind them is a fire and in front of the fire are some figures walking.  What the guys on the bench see is only the shadows of the figures on the wall before them.

The fellow on the end of the bench somehow frees himself enough to turn around to see the figures walking between the bench and the fire figuring out what they’ve been looking at is only shadows. That fellow (often me) tries to explain to his bench mates what really is—they think he’s nuts and keep staring straight ahead. 

Frustrated, the guy on the end sees a very bright light off in the distance.  Breaking totally free of the bench he takes off to check out the light finding to his astonishment, the entrance of the cave.  He steps outside finding few words to describe what he is seeing.  He rushes back to the bench to tell them of the realities he’s seen now, they just roll their eyes and stare forward.  He takes off from there and like at the end of certain movies I want to see where it goes from there.  What happened to him?  

Gaining knowledge is not the safest thing you may have figured out by now.  Some knowledge is safer than others.  Some of us old men gather a wealth of random facts to spout off with their grandkids who also respond with eye rolls.  

Seeing things a different way has a tendency to separate you from others, or you might even use the term to distinguish you from another—that begins to sound like the descriptor of “those of us sitting on the end” disparagingly called WOKE. The further you go from the bench and the cave, the lonelier it gets.

Some days I wonder myself “why didn’t YOU stay seated? Forget the brightness of the caves’ entrance.  Sit still.  Why take the risk?”  

I don’t have a clear answer for that.  Except I took the road Robert Frost spoke of, the one less traveled.  And like his analysis, it has made all the difference.  Why some do and others don’t baffles me.  For me, there is adventure going toward the unknown.  It is actually fun pursuing more information. There is enjoyment in learning.  Whether that be travel, reading or meeting someone new who comes from someplace beyond my ‘hometown’, it fascinates me.  Maybe my career of talking to people all the time has taught not to fear differentness. I won’t deny there is some angst on occasion as I step into the unknown but that almost sharpens my interest.  

A long time friend said years ago that he wished he’d taken more risks as I had done. I’d not seen my choices in that way.  There are times taking some risks will get you burned.  I always considered the risks I took as calculated risks—not totally impulsive, yet I’ve certainly been impulsive on occasions.  What all of this taught me was failure was not fatal.  As I look back there were occasions I wondered if I’d make it through.  The difficult transition from twenty years at the non-profit to private practice was one. Getting sucked into a lawsuit for two years that had nothing to do with me (I was eventually dismissed as others had said I would but…).  Judy, a client of mine said “Mike, don’t you know, you’re a nobody until you’ve been sued”. I told her I could have lived forever being a nobody.

Then my diagnosis of prostate cancer early in the game at fifty-two was another fearful period yet I’m here to talk about all of it.  Having disgruntled others, previous staff swear to destroy me because of some differences were also tough seasons that lasted longer than I’d have liked—but here I am.  

It seems easier for many to remain lockstep with the crowd, to take Frost’s other well worn road or just stay seated. The way I am wired just doesn’t allow that for me.  As I said, few head out of the cave—and keep going.  The road is narrower.  No need of a freeway since traffic is less.  I’ve met others along the way though, traveling companions.  They share similar stories of where they’re from and how they too got on this road.  

there are a few companions

I believeI in a divine, a cosmic compass of sorts that has guided me, pushed me at times. The strength (stupidity?) that it took to step into various risks was not all my own.  I have a Divine companion walking the road beside me.  

I say that seriously because if you’d seen the fearful, timid kid/teen I was back there, you too would have had major doubts he could have boxed his way out of a wet paper bag.  He’s still with me, but a therapist years ago taught me to parent him—my inner child—better than I had for decades.  

The Bible talks a lot of pursing the light, walking in the light—or into the light.  

Leaving the darkness and shadows in that cave—heading out of the opening has made all the difference.  

The invitation to venture out is always there. . 

Come with.  

In my travels west I have stood right there, where Forrest Gump / Tom Hanks did, then turned around. I went on into the valley.