Matt's Dance - Can You Do It?

Every once in a while, I run into a video that captures an important element of my journey and I want to share it. In NVC circles, I've heard this called a "remembering" of the intention, the heart behind nonviolent communication. So, when I saw this video, I was moved and wanted to post it here because it ties in with my recent experience/blog entry "Dancing Jackals Away". The video met my needs for fun, celebration, community, shared experience and meaning. Posting this blog meets my needs for contributing to other people's freedom from jackals***.

Please watch this video and comment.

Here are a few things that I noticed: Matt seems to enjoy dancing. Matt is doing his own dance, regardless of where he is located. Matt seems aware of the people around him, and seems to enjoy their company; but he keeps on dancing to his own rhythm. Every now and then, he modifies his dance to match that of other dancers. I'm guessing that the variety of the locations for his dance is part of his celebration of beauty and diversity in the world. People around him seem to enjoy joining him in his dance. I wonder: Are they feeling joy because they are wanting to celebrate life and a world community? Or, are they feeling happy and just like dancing? After watching this video for the second time, I decided to try Matt's dance style in my room, in front of the mirror. It was fun -- I laughed. It was a connecting experience for me.

Are you moved to dance? Are you feeling joy and wanting to join the party? If you are not moved to dance, what are you telling yourself that is keeping you from dancing? Are your "jackals***" keeping you from dancing? If you are not able to dance, please ask yourself why; keep knocking on doors until one of them opens. Maybe, seek out people who seem to enjoy dancing and ask them how or why they do it. This is a party and everyone's invited. Will you accept the invitation?

*** "Jackals" are critical/judgmental thoughts that we have of ourselves and others. Also called "inner critic", "critical parent", "the comittee", and other less than complimentary evaluations.

Money for Food - for thought

I went to main beach in Corona Del Mar on Friday evening for my weekly beach volleyball fix. My son Alex decided to skim board instead. While he was out there, he ran into his friend Robbie, and they traded off skimming on his board. After each volleyball game, I went out to check up on Alex, to make sure everything was ok (contributing to our needs for safety, peace and adventure). On my last trip out to check on him, his friend came up to me and told me that "they were hungry," "that they didn't have any money," and "do you have any money?"

I was surprised at the directness of his request. My jackals were telling me "how could he do this?" "it's rude and not proper!" I tried some "lame" empathy, "so you are hungry and don't have any money?" He said "yeah! Alex and I are hungry -- do you have any money?" This time, Alex yelled out from his skimming: "Dad, we're hungry! Can we have some money to buy food at the new beach restaurant?"

So, I answered "yes, I have some money," and walked away. I was feeling annoyed because I was wanting autonomy and I was hearing a demand. As I walked back to the volleyball court, I thought about my need for autonomy and their need for food, and how I might contribute to getting all of our needs met.

It was clear to me that indeed they were hungry (and it wasn't just some kid trying to "scam some money"), as now Alex joined the chorus. Robbie walked off a bit, and I had a chance to ask Alex how much he needed -- he said he didn't know because the restaurant was new.

I gave Alex $5. He ran off with Robbie and they discovered that prices were higher than they expected. But they bought an ice-cream treat and shared it. I didn't see Robbie after that, and Alex eventually came back telling me he was still hungry and wanted to buy fried cheese sticks for $4.50. I told him he could have another $5 if he gave me a couple -- he said yes. So, I got to taste the cold cheese sticks with BBQ sauce, and celebrated how great they tasted as I too was getting hungry.

After dinner, I began to think about my internal conversation regarding "my money", someone else's need for sustenance, and decided this was a topic worth writing about.

What would you do if someone asked for money to buy food? What do you do, and what is the conversation that you have with yourself and with the other person? How do you balance your need for autonomy with someone else's need to eat?

Baseball!

I had some friends over on Friday to celebrate our day of independence. A friend gave me 4 tickets to a ball game the next day, and we jumped on 'em. They were great tickets down the first base line, we were free that evening, and the tickets were free. Got to the stadium, and my son and I started advertising for the 4th ticket. "Extra ticket!" "Extra ticket!" No takers. Then we said "Free Ticket!", "Free Ticket!" -- and a family of 5 that was converging to the stadium with us told us that they were looking for a ticket. I said "great, here you go." The mom said, "well, would you like some money for it?" "You, know; to buy a drink or something?" "We were going to buy a ticket anyway." I said "sure, that would be great". "Give me whatever you want." So, she called up her husband, who was 10 feet in front of us by now, practically running for the gate. "Honey, give this man some money!," she said. I wish I had my camera ready - the look on his face said something like "are you nuts?" "we scored a free ticket here!" "you want to give this guy money?". I smiled, and repeated my earlier sentiment. "It's ok, just give me whatever you want." The guy was definitely struggling with the amount -- the "vibe" between us was totally different than with the woman, so, I said, "ok, how about 10 bucks?" After a few strained moments in his wallet, he pulled out several green sheets of paper money and handed them over. And so it was.

At this point, I was actually ahead $2 because parking was $8. But, hey -- getting paid $2 to take your son and mother to a ball game ain't bad. Of course, as a captured audience, we bought food, drinks and snacks at outrageous prices (bratwurst 7, pizza 9, two frozen lemonades 10, cotton candy 4, snuck in bottled water 0).

We had a great time. My son and I had our mitts on and wanted to catch a foul ball. Actually, I think I wanted to catch a ball more than he did. I wore my mitt religiously throughout the game. I think Alex wore his till the 5th inning, and then focused on eating. There's something special about baseball for us. Alex loves to play it, wear the uniform, and imagine that he's out there on the field playing ball -- making the play that saves the game, or hitting the winning home run. I used imagine myself being out on the field too, but this time, I just enjoyed being there. Something about the green grass, the smell of leather from my glove, the bright lights above, my son and mom getting along for the moment, and the crowd of cheering fans all around us -- and "I" was one of "us". I love baseball, and the constitution that made it possible. It meets my needs for freedom.