Staying In Character

I've long recognized that heroes are not always obvious. Quite often, the character upon whom the fate of the world rests gets called to the task right out of the blue. We are introduced to such characters in the normal guise of their everyday life as students, housewives, plumbers, journalists, waitresses. The storytellers take pains to show us that these characters are just like us with all the daily drama we've each known in our own lives. And then the moment happens – they are given a briefcase, a key, a locket, a map – usually by some mysterious, desperate, probably dying, stranger. We're off on an adventure that proves the “just a plumber” character has been training his whole life for exactly the right skills he'll need to achieve the quest. And as the final scene closes, we see the hero silhouetted against the edge of his triumph, gladly ready to go back to his life as just a plumber.

I'm not like that. I've known always that I was special. A superhero waiting patiently to be called up in my world's moment of great need. I've honed my skills as a farmer, storyteller, toymaker, teacher, and healer. It's easy to see how such ability would be exactly what was needed to save our modern world. I've stepped up to the plate as an activist, a community leader and spokesman, brainstorming strategy and offering detailed plans to implement worthy new paradigms.

As of yet though, no benevolent higher power has pointed their finger at me saying “You there, you are the one.” The call that did come through was the completely unexpected one offering me a position as an accountant. An accountant! Initially, I smiled politely and shook my head, “Thank you but no, I am not an accountant.” I had way bigger shoes to fill – feeding the world for heaven's sake, or better yet, teaching the world to feed itself. I had to stay ready, to keep my skills sharp and my reputation as a superhero-in-waiting advertised for the big call, my schedule clear for the quest.

And yet, the invitation to spend 40+ hours a week in an office, wearing make-up, surrounded by file cabinets, computers and computer peripherals, phones, and balance sheets offered something precious - community. A lasting spot in the ecosystem of our chosen home. Perhaps that's just it. Our home was choosing us back. It wasn't clothed in the costume I'd come to view as heroic, it wasn't even asking for the knowledge, skills and abilities that I had so determinedly acquired. The big finger was not pointing at my resume at all but right at me.

And so I said “Yes” and seriously set about becoming an accountant. There are still moments in every day when my full attention is captivated by the trembling drop of water ready to fall from the tip of a potted plant, by the glowing generosity of my co-worker's heart, by the sheer will of my client's commitment to move forward, to hold on, to be a student, housewife, plumber, waitress. In those moments I am filled with certainty that I have answered the call. I am in the middle of an epic hero's quest story.

I may not, in my finite human life-span, get to see clearly the essential task I'm to fulfill or even the goal of the quest. That can be acutely uncomfortable. We're all accustomed to stories that have well-defined beginnings, middles, and happily-ever-afters. However, when I am limited to the context of only a single scene, it's hard to know I'm playing my part effectively. I found myself thinking that to make peace with my role as an accountant, I had to get into the character, really understand the motivations, ferret out what gifts an accountant could offer the hungry world.

Wait a minute....Helloooo.... No matter where the plot is headed, I am the character. All the insights and values, skills, joys, and regrets that make up my life guide this particular characterization. No matter what scene or costume changes occur, the only way my participation in the story is authentic and believable is if I myself stay in character during every scene. While it seems foolishly obvious now, the truth didn't settle into my heart until I read this quote by Isobel Carmody in her fabulous book “Winter Door” describing how to navigate the city of Fork:

“It's not a matter of knowing the way,” the other girl said over her shoulder. “With Fork, one must know one's destination. Then you need only walk and the city will bring you there... You see, the city understands itself. If you do not know where you want to go, the city cannot fathom your desire. If you are confused, you will find Fork confusing.”

I am not seeking another destination – I'm lucky enough to have found just the right place. But I'm rather frightened of being so occupied with the drama of daily life that I miss the onramp for my hero's quest. I think though that if I remain the truest picture of my Self, then the universe will certainly know where to find me when the time comes to complete the task for which I was born. If I believe and behave true to character no matter what role the scene calls me to act out, I'll not miss the mark.

Polar Bear Plunge!

by Zoe Mathias

We started a traditon, just a year ago, that on January 1st, we would jump in Wallowa Lake with the Polar Bear Club. Now, this is a national thing to do on New Years day, from Florida to Alaska. We are no where near the temperature of Florida in January though also not really as cold as Alaska. At least most years we are not. The year before we started, the water had been 40 degrees and the air was 14 degrees, so it had felt nice and warm in the water. This year the lake had frozen over two days before we were to jump in. Eye witnesses said it was almost thick enough to walk on.

So when we got the call at 9:00 New Years morning that the dive was still on and a guy was going up to chip a hole in the ice, we got ready for the worst. Got ready for the worst, but still jumped in the car to make it to the Lake in time! But as we drove around the bend, a totally thawed, blue lake greeted us though tell tale chunks of ice still floated in the water.

After standing in the snow for fifteen minutes, with sandals on might I add, we were ready to shed our ten layers of clothes and stampede into the water. Up to our waists in frigid water, we dunked our heads. Rae caught her hat just in time as she burst out of the water, having forgotten to take it off. She went in last year to offer me moral support, but didn't dunk. This year she promised herself that she would dunk. And she did!

We waded out of the water as fast as we could and on winged feet we flew to the car. We then piled as many heating devices on top of us as we could. And when we got home we had a nice helping of birthday cake.

Back in the Saddle and Packing a Tune

It's been a long silence - not something I'm usually known for! Technology can be less accessible than we've all come to expect and sometimes, the extra effort just moves the joy of this expression to a lower priority. We've got lots of stories to tell, pictures to show and dreams to share. For today, here's a humble message. We offer it to you on a bed of gratitude, garnished with giggles and served with a heaping helping of fondness. In the words of the a great character, "Thank you for being my friend"