Gymnastics Moms-

April 15, 2012 in Reno, NV

Why continue to help? Heather’s son hasn’t been in gymnastics for two years, Lynn’s sons graduated 10 years ago, and Susan’s son quit just this year. Yet these women continue to give. They organize and store the uniforms, they collect the meet forms, they manage the money, they get the coaches gifts, they bake the cookies, they order the banners, they make sure the judges are fed, they register the athletes, they make sure the coaches have drinks, they encourage the kids, and they mop up after you and I have long left. These women continue to give because that is who they are. Of course they help, they are helpers, they always have been. They just needed an opportunity. Thankfully, they chose to accept.

Nationals-

April 15, 2012 in Reno, NV

78.00

That is the score you need to hit in order to make it to the big show, the national championship. In order to accomplish that goal you must score a 13.00 on every apparatus. That isn’t the easiest score to hit, but of the four gymnasts that I tried to help make it, three were successful. One sprained his ankle on the second event, an as such was out of the competition. My heart sank. It was the low point of the competition. The good news, is that he is a junior, and will be able to try next year.

The gymnast in this video ended up scoring a 13.7 on high bar, and an 81.15 in the all around, and now he is nationals bound.

Pay It Forward-

April 15, 2012 in Reno, NV

“It was an accident,” he said. “My mom tripped, bumped into me, and said that this was for you.” And with that, Jed gave me a gift from his mother. He said, “I know you would like to do something for her, and you are going to ask me anyway, so I’ll just tell you; she likes seascapes.”

The gymnastics competition has afforded me little time to paint or draw, but I did have a bit of time one morning and I was able to knock out this painting of the Big Sur bridge and the ocean. I was very happy to give this to Jed for his mother’s kindness, but I was even happier to tell him how her gift to me had multiplied.

I was able to give the gift to another coach because I saw a way that they could use it with and for his gymnasts. The other coach was honored, but let me know he had several of his own, and therefore wasn’t in need of the gift I gave him. As such, he gave it back to me. Beautiful, I got to receive again. Not that there is more joy in receiving than giving, but I got to watch a beautiful man be kind to me.

The next person I gave the gift to, I knew could use it. Despite all the protestation she made, I knew she needed it. Thankfully, she accepted it and despite her need, she knew I could use it myself, and so she re-gifted it to me.

I still have it, and have successfully tried to give the gift away 44 times since. But, it seems people would rather give than receive, and the gift always comes back to me. I gave it to the kids, and they gave it back. I gave to other coaches, they returned it as well. I even gave it to some parents, a homeless woman on the street, and a man who needed a ride downtown. I gave away this precious gift, and yet it is still in my possession at this moment.

It was the gift of a hug.

And as such, it was the gift of kindness. It was the gift of love. Whether or not you have been given the gift or not, you can be like Jed’s mom, and give it away. Go have an “accident”.

Culture Shock-

April 15, 2012 in Reno, NV

Showers really are a luxury. Most people in the world don’t wake up daily to a hot shower. Being on the road I’ve learned that food will somehow always be there, water can be harder at times to find, but showers…they are a delight. Being back in “society” hasn’t made me forget how wonderful each one is.

Side-stepping back into a life I left behind so many months ago has been…interesting. To be really honest, I’ve been feeling a bit of culture shock. Being Peace on the road presented its own challenges. Being Peace and peaceful in stressful situations, with people that have known you for years and perhaps expect you to be who you were, has presented me with my next battery of tests.

However, I feel gratitude has remained my focus. Compassion has been the litmus test by which I measure each action and thought. Love has been the motivating force. Peace has been the end goal. That doesn’t mean however that I have not faced tests. But, pass or fail, both have provided lessons.

Through a series of events, Monday found me saddled with the responsibility for the entire program again. That left me a little overwhelmed to be honest. Two days later, I found myself in Reno, Nevada at the Men’s Region 1 Gymnastics Championships with the hopes and dreams of 12 little boys in my pockets.

Reno is not a community that is weathering the economic storm well. There is a lot of stress in this little town. Casinos are populated with people desperately trying to improve their fortunes, better their luck, and generally inundated with stress. Going to a casino always revolves around money, and the hope that perhaps this time fortune will smile upon you. But, as we all know, the game is rigged. And, despite if the slots are loose, life has a way of presenting situations that even money cannot fix.

Each gambler is stressed.

Casinos then seem to provide a perfect storm when coupled with a gymnastics competition. Kids have busted their butt at what could be considered a part time job training 20-30 hours a week. Then the pressure to display it all in less than 5 seconds as they sprint down the vault runway can break down even the toughest 17 year old. The championship serves as a qualifier for the National championships. If you don’t do well on the day of competition, your year is done, and it is a long ride home.

Each kid is stressed.

The coaches arrive all wanting to be the next “it” coach. They want to be the coach that molds a group of rambunctious 6 year olds into Olympic All-Around Champions. Their pride, their ego, and perhaps their bonuses and livelihoods depend upon the children doing well.

Each coach is stressed.

The gym owners are scared. What if the economy gets worse? What if the kids don’t come, leave, or worse—switch gyms? Their very livelihood is dependent upon the caprice of children and their parents. Many feel that the winning, is the only thing that will keep their program alive, and keeps the kids coming and motivated. Who wants to go to the gym that is known for loosing, if the only way you can quantify success is by competition titles?

Each gym owner is stressed.

The parents have taken time off work (often at a monetary loss), driven and flown through snowstorms, and paid for hotels, gas, meals and airfare to get their kid here. The competition is held on the same weekend that taxes are due. The realization too that after this meet, the child’s level as well as tuition will increase. Couple with that the desire for “My Kid” to be the best, presents a conundrum revolving around the validation of the parents ego.

Each parent is stressed.

Finally the boys I was coaching, lost their coach two days before championships…no matter why…that is hard. I didn’t really remember all the rules, the routines, the procedures, and the responsibilities perfectly either. In a sport where knowledge is so crucial, not knowing can be the difference between a good, and well—poor performance.

I didn’t even have clothes. I gave away all my clothes except what I needed for the pilgrimage. My professional membership had expired as well. My body was being shocked by traveling from Texas, SF, and now Reno. I had been talking to about 4-5 people a day during the pilgrimage, and now hundreds surround me. I had to get hotels, rental cars, clothes, registered, up to speed etc. etc. etc.

I the coach was stressed.

But, amidst this tumultuous and stressful environment, I decided, this is my life. Who do I want to be? When you think about it, what an opportunity. All these old friends have been placed before me all of them could be loved upon. I could turn this competition into a “vacation” for my overworked and tired fellow coaches. I could foster an environment that left every child telling me, “This was the most fun I’ve had at a competition all year.”

Every turn could be used to give a kid a pat on the back. Every routine was a chance to give a high five. Every hit set was worthy of a hug. Every missed set was worthy of a hug too. Every verbal exchange was a chance to bolster someone’s flagging self-confidence. Every session was a chance to validate a tired coaches self-worth. Every moment was a chance to love.

I wasn’t given this opportunity to just help 12 boys; I was given this opportunity to love the world. I could be the peace when everyone else around me seemed to be loosing theirs.

Better than being able to love on all these kids and friends, they got to love me back.

And I got to take a shower everyday.

One Day At A Time-

April 11, 2012 in San Francisco, CA

“How long do you think this trip is going to take you?” people often ask. My replies have been various, but one thing has remained consistent. I have always replied, “I don’t know, I may quit tomorrow, or it may take me the rest of my life.”

My dad prompted me to watch “Forest Gump” again before I began running. He recommended I watch the part of the movie where he ended his run. Surrounded by the empty roads and the cathedral spires of monument valley, he realized that he was done, and it was time to go home.

In my mind, and perhaps incorrectly, the peace pilgrimage has always been about the circumnavigation of the US. Doing art, loving on people, and recording the stories of people’s compassion as well as my own foibles, failures, triumphs, and success has been my way to serve. But now I see erroneous nature of that mindset.

Mother Teresa began by saying yes to serving in India first. MLK began by choosing to become a preacher. Gandhi began by deciding to write in a newspaper. The catalytic event that leads one into a life of service is only a decision. A decision to serve…in any capacity. But more importantly, it is continuing to make that decision…everyday.

What for me began only as a week of substituting here in San Francisco has morphed into something else. I chose to be of service where I could. Mother Teresa probably never dreamed of washing leper’s feet everyday. Tending to the ill, the sick, and the dying probably wasn’t what she was expecting when first starting out.

But, all these heroes did what they could. They served, as they were able.

I’m not going to lie; I’m a little overwhelmed. Two days of prep and now being completely responsible for NCAA waivers, tape, sugar water, car rentals, hotels, regional championships, uniforms, routine construction, corner transitions, and most of all mental preparation for 14 little and not so little boys is a lot.

Three days ago I was sleeping on the ground in a field of flowers, and my biggest concern was keeping the mosquito netting closed, how long till the next town, and “where can I get some clean water.”

And yet the universe has allowed me to be here, and so I can do what I am able. But, I’m not the only one doing what they are able. My friend Scott took notes, watched, and offered his suggestions just because he cares. He cares for the boys. My friend Michelle asked me, despite all that she has to do herself this weekend, “What can I do for you?”

My friends Nikki, George, Garry, LaSchaunda, and Vince all offered to help me, feed me, or love on me in anyway they could. Patti gave me five hugs and a Starbucks card to keep my pep. Jed, being a judge, refreshed me on the rules. In addition, he took me shopping to get meet appropriate attire, brought a couple guitars so we could sit in his truck and play, and bought me new running shoes so that the journey could continue!!!

Liz, the owner of the gym has gone out of her way to find me temporary housing and accommodate me in anyway should could. Mark, my friend and co-conspirator, has fed and housed me as well as refreshed my spirit. But more than anyone, my friend Susan has shuttled me to practices, fed me, given me toiletries, washed my clothes, and in general has been a sounding board for ideas and shoulder to lean on when I was fatigued.

But most of all the boys gave me joy.

It seems that although I came here to serve, I have been served. I came here to do what I and only I could do…be a substitute for a week. Now, through a series of events, that has morphed into a month. What is astounding to me is not the overwhelming nature of the responsibilities that have suddenly fell upon my shoulders, but the overwhelming love and community of which I am a part.

I said that I came here to serve. It seems, so did everyone else.

Love = Joy = Gym-

April 9, 2012 in San Francisco, CA