Chuck McGuire
Now for the rest of the story (or just my perspective).
I'm not tattooed, and I have only one itty-bitty hole in my left ear lobe. I felt more than a little awkward as we initially approached the group around the registration table. I had never seen so much inked skin, to say nothing of the rest of the ornamentation. No two people were even remotely alike. "Hello, you must be Chuck and Tiana" greeted us as we approached. I couldn't help but smile; this was going to be a real experience.
Tiana was raised in a very closed social structure. It was very conservative, to say the least. It had taken me the better part of 35 years to gain the strength to leave the church by asking to be excommunicated. I think Tiana and her 3 sisters figured it out by the time they started first grade.
I learned very early not to ask the wrong (or even any) questions--the guy at the head of the church talked to God and that was it. Just believe it, do it, and be happily saved! I long ago made myself a promise: I promised to treat my family like Mrs. Todd next door did her son. Donny was a downs syndrome child just older than me. The other boys called him "retarded" He couldn't talk well and just wanted to play with the toy trucks in the sand pile. But when his mom came to get him he always smiled excitedly. She touched him with very soft hands and always smiled right back. I wanted that feeling too. It did not happen too much in my house. Somehow Mrs. Todd understood and loved Donnie even though he was very different.
Tiana is on the other end of the spectrum: She's very smart, an explorer, curious to the max. She found the “earthquake†in the wall socket probing with car keys when she was three. I thought she was fried, but she shook herself, looked up, and said “There's an earthquake in there, Dad!†“It can hurt you pretty bad too, are you okay?†Is what I can remember saying. Why freak out and scare her more if she's not hurt? At least sometimes I think I'm doing the right thing… Her mom was another story--she wigged right out. Then I had to calm them both down. I remember how scared I was. I never liked it when adults get really harsh with a young child.
I noticed right away that the girls liked to talk and would listen very intently. No such thing as baby talk for me. I don't get it: How can a person learn anything if everything is “dumbed down†because you are too little to understand? When I was young, I felt like they were telling me I was stupid; I just wanted to know. Other adults looked at me like I was some kind of nut when I'd explain what a flower is to an infant as she tried to taste it. They might not get what a stamen is or what nectar is the first time but they will surely get the context, no problem! And any child I've ever interacted with loved the no-bullshit adult interaction as well. We were never stupid, just inexperienced. Donnie wasn't stupid either--he knew how to love others like no one else on the planet! If you took the time to show him how to do something, he would smile and his eyes would light right up.
So here I am at The ONE Project; I'm the oddball. But, I was the only one who noticed. Just “Oh, you're Tiana's Dad…†from a couple of people. So much for my anxiety. I like being around friendly people: Just say “Hi†and smile my way and I'm fine.
Artistic flair has never been in short supply around my family. I like taking pictures, but Tiana and her sisters take photography to another level. So when Erica was showing me some of the latest photos Tiana had posted on the Internet, my reaction was unexpected. I saw the stitches and thought “Oh God. What has she done now? This beats blue hair, pierced labret, septum and the tattoo all at once.†Then my mind processed the whole frame and small trickles of blood from several punctures were all I saw. I couldn't stop the tear that dropped from my face onto Erica's hand on the keyboard. My response surprised her. All I could think was that my Tiana was hurt. The feeling flooded through me filtered by only my experience. I had no frame of reference for these new images. It wasn't shock, just “Oh my child…†Once you are Daddy's little girl there is little part I never want to lose. It’s a wonderful feeling to go back to, but it's not where I should have been at that moment. I was relating to an adult woman exploring sensations and experiences that are very adult. I got caught relating at the level of the 4th grade Daddy/daughter square dance. Ouch! My pain, not hers! Tiana knew right off that I needed to update my frame of reference before I saw pictures of the suspension that had been under discussion for quite some time. There would have been no way to process that in context without some major education on my part.
Realize that my knowledge of suspensions comes from the seventies movie “A Man Called Horse†and “Taboo†on the discovery channel. Both intended to shock the living shit out of adult male middle class electrical engineers like me! (It worked, too.) Even though what Tiana was talking about had nothing to do with anything I knew about. I had no positive frame of reference--I do now. I'm glad Tiana trusted me enough to extend to me the invitation a very special part of her life. That's brave. I'm a chicken. I was going WAY out of my comfort zone. I had to trust Tiana, and that she knows me well enough to expect a positive outcome. It was my turn to grow. Aw shit, I hate this personal growth stuff! It can dredge up some awful feelings. The cliff must be climbed in order to experience the euphoria of the view from the top.
At the opening circle I witnessed the most awesome display of reverence and respect I have ever seen in my entire life. In no church service or temple ceremony, no funeral nor blessing of a baby could compare. Each in turn placed some important symbol or artifact on the stage/alter at one end of the grove. Some prayed, some bowed, some just set their package on the bench and returned to the circle. No one spoke. Each displayed true reverence and respect for the other’s process. Everyone was free to participate or not, to pray or not, to bow or not and be completely accepted. Unique individuality was honored with mutual understanding. “To thy own self be true.†was never more evident. I came to understand that I could only understand and respect others if I had first done the same for myself. I don't have to be perfect. Just be me.
The statement of intent served as the best introduction imaginable. Some wanted to be with people, while some wanted to be left alone. In the sweat lodge we experienced a Native American tradition--I'm quite sure no two experiences were the same. It was packed, seventy people crammed into a space meant for less than twenty. Waves of heat radiated outward every couple of minutes. Sage lavender and other aromatic plants were burned on the glowing rocks in the central pit. Time blurred. A few quietly made their way out as they felt necessary. I neither felt nor heard anything judgmental from anyone about leaving in nor after the ceremony was complete. I knew my time was up at the second door (when the door was opened to bring in more glowing lava rocks). I had pushed my self as far as I thought safe for me. As I sat on the ground just outside the door someone poured cool water over my head and gave me some to drink. I felt honored and cared for--I learned something about self acceptance and respect.
Many things happened in the next two days. I did yoga for the first time. We listened to interesting people share perspectives. We sat and talked in the morning sun, listened to each other’s stories. Rebecca showed me how to make the three-dimensional dream catcher that I hadn't figured out how to weave. I will always keep a small bag of flower petals in my briefcase that were given to me by the couple under the pirate flag. I got out my dream catcher bag and made gifts for some who I had come to respect. I listened to Ed and others who came to suspend. I did not know about the chest pull until it was happening. I watched as several prepared and joined the circle. I watched their faces. I listened to what was being said. Machismo was completely absent--it wasn't about that. It was about the internal connection, the connection with the others in the circle. Walking around the ten to fifteen already in the circle, Tiana came over and told me she was going to get ready to join. It was then I decided to join too. I knew that no one would think badly of me if I chose to leave at an early time. This was about transcending fear and uncertainty and feeling the movement of the circle. It was about pushing ones self past a preconceived set of boundaries. It was about being accepting and acceptance.
So I went with my daughter and hooks were inserted into my chest, cords attached, and I stood across from her and felt part of the whole. I felt like a tree holding stable and strong as the ring danced in the middle supported by all and at the same time supporting all. Exiting whenever someone wanted--some sat, two were quite faint and lay down. Nothing required, pull or not, it's OK. A half a step forward and you could sit. I will never be quite the same.
As the last two of the circle ended their dance the first suspending started. The first two were suspending from their knees and swung gently. The facial expressions were calm, serene, focused. Earlier in the day Ed had said something about experiencing the sense of connecting with the suspended person while lifting and holding with the rope. After feeling the connection with the circle in the chest pull I didn't want to miss the opportunity to feel that with Tiana. The time came--all the rigging was in place and Ed asked me to take up some slack. Some adjustments were made. Tiana then asked for me to raise her slowly. I backed up and felt the increasing weight in the rope. After a couple of seconds I heard the request to go up a little more. From there I watched her face. I had seen that expression before. She was again exploring, something within this time. A few more seconds brought a deep breath and the look of exhilaration, a little tentative. Then the little smile, a smirk, a yep I’ve done it and the view from the top is most spectacular. As I pulled the offset in the block and tackle and caused her to swing the rhythm was alive--pure energy of connection of complete trust. I tingle every time I think of the experience. Tiana seemed to be oblivious to the passage of time. Thoughts and feelings were racing through my mind. Quietly--didn't think nor want to explain to anyone--I started the little chant, “Dun…ta dun, dun…ta dun…underdog…†I could see she heard--the smile was distinct.
And priceless.
