Plane Spoken
At 16 my cousin, Dave, and I would sometimes visit his girlfriend, Jill, at the restaurant where we all worked. Dave and I enjoyed conversing loudly (enabling other patrons to hear) spinning yarns we perceived as more interesting than our own lives. We told tales of teenage pregnancies, evictions and arrests. Clearly we had no idea what we were talking about, and had we been courageous enough to tell the stories of our actual home lives, the story would have been dramatic enough without the embellishments. Jill, knowing the lives we actually lived, just gave us "the look."
On my flight to Costa Rica a couple of weeks ago, several passengers played musical chairs at the request of my assigned neighbor. The result: a new seat mate for me. When I awoke from a brief nap, I listened to the passengers across the aisle chatting, and felt grateful that those strangers weren't talking to me. Then I looked at a piece of aircraft falling apart before my eyes and asked my neighbor, "That doesn't seem quite right, does it?"
"No, it surely doesn't." A moment of panic on my part...shoot, I didn't just inadvertently begin a conversation, did I? I hate that kind of inane chatter. Ah...safe! Oops! "Where are you from? What about that Hernandez thing? What's taking you to Costa Rica?" Oh good grief, seriously?! I made a commitment to myself to be open to what came along on this retreat from beginning to end; perhaps this oops beginning had a purpose.
After a stuttering start, our dialogue took a turn. This young fellow, a film writer/director, was experiencing writers block for a project, soon to be filmed, in need of reshaping. He read me the synopsis, which sounded intriguing. Teetering on coaching mode, I learned a bit about him, his well of inspiration, and his life. We spoke of telling truths and making choices. We wondered whether humans are defined by a destiny or if we create the world we live in. We discussed manifesting who we need in our lives, and whether some people are more special than others.
The irony of this conversation was not lost on me. Clearly, I had manifested this 24 year old California surfer-type tutor to help me gain clarity about my own beliefs. It turns out, there are a lot of things I don't have answers for, and I'm totally okay with that as I evolve.
Then a weird thing happened. He went from teacher to student, while I shifted from student to sage. I don't know what possessed me to say some of the things I did. And yet, he kept asking questions, and I began to feel that I was living my personal version of the "Celestine Prophecy". I was both student and prophet simultaneously.
After a while, I spoke a bubbling truth. "We're at the point in this conversation, when it feels hard to know if any of what you've said is true. And yet, I'm clear that it doesn't really matter, because you are here for me to learn." He pouted - seriously - he looked a bit hurt and he pouted. "I don't feel that way at all. This is one of the three best conversations I've ever had." Conversation sustained.
Disembarking, he asked for my business card (which I didn't have), shook my hand, gave me a kiss on the cheek and introduced me to one of his friends as a holy woman sent to guide him. Well, he is a writer after all...
This interaction reminded me of the tales Dave and I told as teenagers. The more ridiculous and garish, the more interesting we believed ourselves to be. And then I thought back to the words that poured through me on the plane, from some unknown spring of knowledge. It occurred to me that this, too, may be like when I was 16. What if I'd possessed the courage then to tell my own story? Similarly, what if the wisdom I offered to Logan, my seatmate, was, in fact, about my story? Do I now have the courage to be with that?
As I sit with and consider what I offered, I recognize, while my perceptions may have related to him, they certainly relate to me. And who better to live into my brilliant advice than me?
I invite you to take a page from my bizarre book. Be open to whatever madness may come your way. And when you find yourself speaking wisdom to a friend or an acquaintance, be curious as to whether you are teaching what you need to learn, as I was.
With love, as both student and teacher,
Joanne Lutz