Seeking The ONE

Alright, buckle up, buttercups, here's your blog post for the day, and we're about to dive headfirst into the philosophical deep end, without inflatable arm floaties. But don't despair, it's the same Genome you've come to know over the decades, the same slightly bewildered yet vaguely enlightened yours truly, with helpful input from Ms. Wonder and Princess Amy.

ONE CYGNUS sailing under the flag of Japan

We were in Southport yesterday, which Coastal Living Magazine once called The Happiest Seaside Town in America. My name for it is Coastal Camelot. You can find my previous posts on Southport using the search feature on the home page.

It was a slow, lazy, joyful Easter Sunday afternoon, and we were there seeking the One. No, not that One, silly! The one we sought is the container vessel ONE CYGNUS.

I was scrolling through memories of yesteryear as we walked the quiet oak-lined streets near the Intracoastal Waterway, and I remembered a time many years ago when we were on vacation in Southport, accompanied by a new kitten.

We'd rescued Eddy Peebody only weeks before and didn't want to leave him with a sitter so soon. He became quite ill on the trip, and we took him to the veterinary clinic. The doctor treated Eddy and then explained that his health problem was a genetic one and that he'd probably have recurring issues for his lifetime.

I can't explain how much that prognosis crushed our spirits (even those words don't come close to describing how we felt). The next day, I was sitting alone outside a coffee shop, considering how to begin learning to care for him.

All I knew for sure that morning was that no matter what it required, we would give Eddy the best life possible. And we did. Our primary roles became health care advocates for Eddy Peebody. Eventually, Happy Cats Wellness grew out of our experience caring for him.

Walking toward the sea wall yesterday, I was reminded of a profound nugget of wisdom from Master Wen, the wuquan master at Zen Center of West Houston. Apparently, when you stop all the frantic seeking and striving, life just… unfolds, like a children's fairy tale.

Now, my immediate reaction was, "Yeah, right," because my life usually unfolds like a toddler attempting origami – lots of crumpled frustration and the vague shape of something that might have been a swan if you squinted hard enough.

But this wasn't some motivational mantra. This was about the "genuine absence of desire and effort." Which, let's be honest, sounds a lot like an existential "meh."

It's in this state of blissful nothingness that all the stuff you were desperately chasing suddenly appears. Like those lost earbuds that I haven't given up on finding. If only I could stop caring about whether they show up or not. It's a constant source of frustration and, like Jimmy Durante, I've got a million of 'em.

I've been obsessed for years with finding the book my mother used to teach me to read. The book was her third-grade "reader," and she loved that book so much she kept it and read the stories to me until I practically memorized the text. 

I remember the mule in "Old Kate's Nightmare" about the bright-eyed monster that turned out to be an automobile. I remember "Jo-Jo the Clown," and I remember so fondly the story of Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cottontail waiting in the pumpkin patch on the night of a full moon for the "Man in the Moon to Come Down Tonight."

I've searched all the rare and used bookstores of Houston, New Orleans, Savannah, Charleston, and Durham. And what's the result? Nothing. Nada. Zip. I was the persistent Tweeter, and the universe just hit "block."

If I understand the principle correctly, you become more noticeable when you stop seeking attention. It's basically like the girl in my college biology lab, who I asked to accompany me to the freshman mixer. I practically begged her to go, but she was skeptical. I don't blame her--she probably thought I had ulterior motives. 

She was right, of course. My best friend had told me, on the day of the dance, to find a date or stop hanging around with him and Denny Poo because they couldn't be seen in public with a guy so uncool as to not attend a school dance. 

But when one lets go, that's when the unfolding begins, and life responds to your absence of need. It offers abundance when you stop grasping. And so it happened that in the lab the next day, the reluctant dancer announced that she would be my girlfriend and attend all the dances with me for the rest of the year.

Do you see the problem? I had given up all need for a dance partner. I told her thanks, I'll call you. It never happened. 

I'm not ready to embrace full-blown, Zen-master-level detachment. I'm not sure I'll ever be ready for that. But maybe there is something to this "wanting nothing gets you everything" thing.

I've decided to float a trial balloon, as I believe it's called, and embrace the art of the gentle shrug. To cultivate a profound indifference to the chaos swirling around me. And I'm prepared to accept that it might not work and that maybe it's just a cosmic joke.

Either way, I'm going to try "not trying" for a bit. Worst case scenario? I get really good at doing nothing. Best case? Well, the truth is, I have no clue what the best case might be.

Stay tuned for my next blog post. For the next few weeks, I expect to provide updates on reaching enlightenment through extreme Whatevering.