Real Joe

I competed in the first observed trials event of our club’s season over the weekend… and I finished both days, the first time since last July when a small plague of Uncategorized aches and injuries descended upon my not-yet-geezerly-by-god body.

I rode better than I expected, in part due to the gem of a motorcycle I was on. But I actually tried out my Malcom Smith/Phil Mickelson smiling strategy just about every time I got on the bike to ride a section or to ride between sections. I rode more relaxed than usual and I had waaaaay more fun than usual. My concentration still sucked at times. Radical thought: Maybe next time I’ll even try it while I’m in section, like Malcolm.

I think I’m onto something here.

Last Thursday morning, I woke up after having a very vivid dream that Dru Sjodin’s body had been found. It was so startlingly real that I immediately wondered if I’d read about it online the night before… or if I was having one of those experiences where one’s dream foretells an event that actually happens. My son Tyson had a dream that he was in a car accident only a few minutes before the van he was in was hit head-on by a drunk driver.

Sjodin’s body was found on Saturday. I told this to my mathematician buddy Bruce Morlan, wondering whether this might make me a minor league clairvoyant. He said I’d need to know a few more details and kindly blogged the details:

- Those who dream of an event and the event happens
- Those who do not dream of an event and the event happens
- Those who dream of an event and the event does not happen
- Those who do not dream of an event and the event does not happen

He put it in terms of dreaming of tornadoes: “To scientifically determine if our dreams are predictive, we would have to deliberately collect all four of the numbers shown, particularly annoying would be finding out the true number of people who dreamt of tornadoes that did not happen, only slightly less annoying would be trying to collect the number of people who dreamt of things other than tornadoes when tornadoes did occur.”

It occurred to me that the same could be said of people who pray for future events, like the safe return of Sjodin. If she’d been found alive, there would have been a torrent of media quotes about how it was a miracle, that God answered the prayers of the millions who were praying for her safe return since the day of her dramatic abduction and the nationwide news coverage of it.

As I read some of the stories of families receiving the bodies of troops killed in Iraq, no mention is ever made of prayers or God. Yet surely most of these people prayed diligently for the safe return of their loved ones. And just as surely, many of them are now having a crisis of faith because of their lack of understanding of the differences between false prayer and true prayer.

What’s also puzzling is how supposedly enlighened members of the clergy are generally silent on these kinds of intercessionary prayers. Jesus wasn’t hesitant to criticize the way some people prayed, but it’s apparently politically incorrect to tell people that prayers for future events are not only mistaken from a statistical point of view (as goofy as believing that dreams predict the future) but potentially harmful to their relationship with their God/higher power.

Yesterday I was standing at the return counter at Best Buy and the guy examining the digital camera I was bringing back on the exact 14th day since I bought it looks up and says to me, “You’re a couple weeks past the return date. We have a 14 day return policy.”

I tell him that the first camera I bought was a month ago, but I brought that one back and got this one instead… 14 days ago. He patiently explains that their policy applies to when the first camera was purchased. Basically, I’m fucked.

My dad had a tough time returning stuff for credit or exchange. I have a vivid memory of him trying to return a Skill saw to a hardware store — I must have been around ten. He ended up screaming and swearing at the store manager. I thought he was going to punch him.

So I’ve inherited the problem though I don’t quite get what the mistaken thinking is. As I stand at the counter, I feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead. It’s as if I’ve been asked to give an impromptu speech in front of a thousand people. My body’s reading some goofy signal from my brain that this is a life or death, fight or flight situation. I don’t quite have my dad’s temper so my inclination is to walk away. Then it occurs to me that I’ll have to face my wife when I get home. She’s the queen of merchandise returns and seems to actually enjoy the negotiations when things get sticky. She’ll be privately aghast at my weak-kneed behavior, and although she’s sensitive enough to not berate me for it, she will be upset.

So I pause and it then occurs to me to make an offer. “How about I get another camera and keep that one instead of returning this one for credit?” He goes off to check with his supervisor and comes back with an approval but they’ll have to charge me a 15% restocking fee. A seasoned negotiator would have argued to have that fee waived since the repackaging I did was flawless. But not me. I’m just relieved. I’m now the proud owner of a Canon PowerShot A70.

Looking back on it now, I’m still not sure what goes on in my head in situations like that. It must be a fear of being a wimp, being taken advantage of, bullied — the legacy of my bullying father who had no reluctance in expressing his disdain anytime he saw a hint of Momma’s boy behavior in me.

I tell myself now that it’s time to shelve that reaction. Next time, I’ll take a deep breath and see it as a dance of sorts, a chance to get better at negotiating, a challenge not unlike climbing a wall. The idea is to not so much as to emerge victorious over someone but to create a win-win situation — a business lingo phrase I hate but I don’t know what else to call it. I’m sort of picturing it now in my mind’s eye. We’ll see if I can pull it off.

I watched the final round of the Masters last weekend and couldn’t help but notice how Phil Mickelson kept smiling. It wasn’t just after a good shot, either. He often kept a smile on his face the entire time while walking to his next shot.

(Photo not from the Masters in Augusta.)

It made me wonder whether this was a strategy suggested by his sports psychologist, one designed to help him stay relaxed in a high-choke situation.

His smile in the midst of intense competition reminded me of legendary dirt biker Malcolm Smith, whose prowess in a variety of motorcycle events and ever-present grin were chronicled in the all-time classic motorcycle movie, On Any Sunday.

There is research demonstrating that by deliberately smiling — putting your facial muscles in a grin position — you can often trigger feelings of happiness, assuming, of course, that your intent is sincere. Smiles, like tears, can be associated with a wide range of emotions.

So while I’ve not yet tried it in any athletic competition, I’ve been trying to trigger a smile whenever I’m aware that my head chatter has drifted into fretting or worrying about something in the future. It’s a step beyond Eckhart Tolle’s observation: “One day you may catch yourself smiling at the voice in your head, as you would smile at the antics of a child. This means that you no longer take the content of your mind all that seriously, as your sense of self does not depend on it.”

Rather than waiting for my silent watcher to trigger this internal smile — which typically doesn’t happen but once in a while — I’m skipping right to the smile.

The result is a pleasant little rush, most often flavored with some gratitude. Example: Sonuvabitch, I forgot I have to do X for client Y. But I have to also get the fricking Z done and then… Oh, I’m fretting. [Forced Smile] I love my work. And I’m lucky to have a lot of interesting shit going on in my life right now instead of being bored or depressed. So I’ll get to those to-dos when I get to them but for right now, I’m just going enjoy the taste and warmth of this cup of coffee.