Unique in Tlaquepaque

July 1999

 Looking upon myself from the perspective of society, I am an average person.  Facing myself intimately, immediately, I regard myself as unique, as exceedingly precious, not to be exchanged for anything else.

No one will live my life for me, no one will think my thoughts for me or dream my dreams.

In the eyes of the world, I am an average man.  But to my heart I am not an average man.  To my heart I am of great moment.  The challenge I face is how to actualize the quiet eminence of my being.

from I Asked for Wonder, pg 71, Abraham Joshua Heschel

IMG_1669.jpeg

Reading Heschel’s  words reminded me of this story.  Over two decades ago, after a half century of living, serving and helping others in ministry and social work I gave myself permission to spend three weeks 'in the desert' of Scottsdale Arizona immersed in therapy…and to spend the money it took to do so.  After some crazy things happening, I reached the point that it was okay to take some time out to explore my own insides or inscape.  After the first difficult week of much grief and tears I was anxious about the approaching weekend and how to occupy my time and mind. I’d never been to Arizona and had had some middle of the night flashbacks.  My various therapists (you see several during an intensive) had directed me to 'my inner child' toward the later part of that week and when I asked Ralph, the director of the center, what to do for these two days he emphatically said “take that child you’ve met out for a good time and get reacquainted”.  He knew that part of me thought the whole inner child theory stuff was silly but could see that I had serious concerns for the weekend.  I had always blown off all the inner child talk.  But then another voice inside my head...the manager...spoke up saying “You are paying a lot of money for these three weeks so why not listen and take his suggestion?” (at least play along). Ralph had earlier in the week confronted me about being a bad client as I tried to direct my own therapy…he was right.  

IMG_1670.jpeg

I’d been asked to bring a photo or two of myself as a kid.  I had brought along my kindergarten picture.  So on that Saturday morning, I woke and took the six year old Michael to the village of Tlaquepaque in Sedona Arizona (a replica of Guadalajara Mexico)…again, my first time there.  I imagined all day that I was with a six year old. We did what I felt he would enjoy---we ate hot dogs and fries for lunch and road a pink jeep into back into the backcountry around Sedona.  Midmorning as we browsed the shops of Tlaquepaque we came across one of those smooth rocks you may have seen in art or gift shops with laser carvings into them.  This rock was good size--a hand full about six inches across--with a carving of an intricate snow flake.  As I reached down to pick it up I turned it over to find that on the other side was the word ‘unique' carved into it. Michael and I looked at each other—pausing to have a moment of wordless conversation.  Michael had been called and called himself numerous things throughout his life…’different' being the nicest...but this word, unique, was a beautiful fit...even though he disputed me to begin with.  We bought the rock and lugged it around all morning until after lunch when we returned to the car.  All the time the wonder of the day was settling in within me.  I had spent most of my life repeating the negative labeling of others--particularly a father who did not 'get me' and as a result was a name caller.  That afternoon, on a beautiful plaza back at Tlaquepaque I was on a balcony overlooking a fountain with a musician playing guitar. I knelt down to Michaels level and apologized telling him I would never repeat those labels to him ever again, that he was unique and we would celebrate and rest in that from this moment on.

The rock still sits in my study...for others to see...but especially for Michael and I.  Heschel was right about being average yet exceedingly precious, unique.  Letting that sink in is a challenge for so many of us.  Be a better inner parent, big Michael. 

Edit 3/2021 

Previous
Previous

Beautiful things…or just stuff

Next
Next

I’m No Jock