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Average Joes and Volcanoes


Our next Med­i­ta­tion Retreat is com­ing in Sep­tem­ber.

I’ll announce dates nearer the end of the month, and if you are inter­ested now, drop me a line and I’ll put you on the list!


joe volcano

A client was here last week­end, doing one our Week­end Res­i­den­tials. I was think­ing about what to do on the Sat­ur­day evening, and I flashed on ““Joe Ver­sus the Vol­cano,” a 1990 com­edy star­ring Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan.

Now, I saw the movie back in the early 90s, but it wasn’t until I was out at The Haven for a cou­ple of courses that I “got” the movie. Bill O’Hanlon was teach­ing, and I was attend­ing. He showed excerpts of the movie, and com­mented relent­lessly. He pointed out tons of themes run­ning through the movie (the fac­tory where Joe works has a sim­i­lar look to the vol­cano, the light­ing indi­cates the person’s mood, it’s a movie about “soul / sole,” and there’s a real issue with “Brain Clouds.”)

I greatly enjoyed watch­ing it again a week ago But the high­light was when we hit “the Quote,” and I remem­bered how great the dia­logue is:

Patri­cia: “My father says that almost the whole world is asleep. Every­body you know. Every­body you see. Every­body you talk to. He says that only a few peo­ple are awake and they live in a state of con­stant total amazement.”

Or, from a Bud­dhist perspective:

One of his stu­dents asked Bud­dha, “Are you the mes­siah?“
“No”, answered Bud­dha.
“Then are you a healer?“
“No”, Bud­dha replied.
“Then are you a teacher?” the stu­dent per­sisted.
“No, I am not a teacher.“
“Then what are you?” asked the stu­dent, exas­per­ated.
“I am awake,” Bud­dha replied.

Inter­est­ing. Of all the claims the Bud­dha could have made, he makes only one.

To be awake. But awake-ness of a pecu­liar kind. It is a state of aware­ness free from judge­ment, labelling, dis­trac­tion, or “pol­i­tics.” (Win­ning, los­ing, power, force.) Awake, with no other moti­va­tion than to expe­ri­ence life fully and deeply, while never, never cling­ing.

All about Leaps

The move fits with our sub-theme of late — mak­ing the “leap of faith.” You could say that this is the key theme of the movie — how one over­comes “fear” through leaping.

What is it about leaps that turn most folks into tubs of jello? Why is secu­rity prized so highly, when most rebel (qui­etly, usu­ally) at what they have to do for that secu­rity? I can’t tell you how many peo­ple I’ve known over the years who have set­tled for love­less rela­tion­ships, bor­ing jobs, blocked chances, all to be able to say, “Well, at least I have… some­thing!” It seems to take an ill­ness or a career col­lapse — some­thing dra­matic — to really shift the ground. Then, it’s leap or “drown,” leap or fall.

probe

This first stage of the movie is all about fear, “the rut,” being mun­dane, being “stuck.”

This is cap­tured in the slog­ging, slowly mov­ing conga line of fac­tory work­ers, trudg­ing into a com­pany that makes med­ical imple­ments (“Home of the Rec­tal Probe!” — a require­ment for mov­ing past Freud’s anal stage, but I digress…) and 40 gal­lon drums of petro­leum jelly. Nice to see they have their bases covered.

Once Joe is diag­nosed with a Brain Cloud, (described in the movie as a rare, fatal dis­ease, with no symp­toms: “A con­di­tion when one’s mind is else­where and some­thing is for­got­ten or done incor­rectly because of it.”)

This con­di­tion describes the way most peo­ple live life.

Joe gets (and “gets”) the diag­no­sis, and with 6 months to live, decides to shift things around.

First off, he quits his dead-end job, and says the fol­low­ing to his boss:

And why, I ask myself, why have I put up with you? I can’t imag­ine, but now I know. Fear. Yel­low freakin’ fear. I’ve been too chicken shit afraid to live my life so I sold it to you for three hun­dred freakin’ dol­lars a week!”
(1990, remem­ber ;-) )

The Brain Cloud diag­no­sis is sort of what is offered to us at each “jumping-off point.” We can do more of the same and stay where we are, or we can “leap into the vol­cano” and con­front our fear, our desire to be safe, our all-too-human ten­dency to hun­ker down in the famil­iar, no mat­ter how dreary.

Life, aka. a Brain Cloud, is always fatal. Life, as they say, is a fatal disease.

dede

Closed off, clenched fist

Joe imme­di­ately asks the recep­tion­ist (DeDe) out an a date — Meg Ryan plays 3 women in the movie, each per­fectly fit­ted for the “level of under­stand­ing” Joe is at. With DeDe, all Joe has is his diag­no­sis and a desire to do things dif­fer­ently. He doesn’t know how, he just knows he’s “dying.”

For exam­ple, DeDe sees Joe look­ing at his shoe and asks him what’s wrong. He says “I’m los­ing my sole.” Get it?

The name DeDe, by the way, is a deriva­tion of Deirdre, which means “broken-hearted,” or “sor­row­ful,” and per­haps “fearful.”

Joe has decided to shift gears, but doesn’t know how.

His date with DeDe goes nowhere — he reaches out to hold her hand and she gives him her closed fist. She sim­ply can’t get past Joe’s “diag­no­sis.” Joe, how­ever, is unde­terred. He says, [to DeDe]

I mean, who am I? That’s the real ques­tion, isn’t it? Who am I? Who are you? What other ques­tions are there? What other ques­tions are there, really? If you want to under­stand the uni­verse, embrace the uni­verse. The door to the uni­verse is you!”

The way in is the way out

This is the per­spec­tive we “sell,” week after week. Not only is the door to the uni­verse you, it’s only you. For you, of course. So much for wait­ing around for res­cue, for “the right time,” for the cor­rect path.

Joe’s jour­ney actu­ally begins when a mys­te­ri­ous man, Mr. Gray­namore (obvi­ous, eh?) offers Joe a deal he can’t refuse. In return for a stack of unlim­ited credit cards, Joe will jour­ney to a Pacific Island and throw him­self into a vol­cano, thereby sav­ing both the island and a min­eral on the island Mr. Gray­namore wants.

This trip com­prises most of the movie — Joe jour­neys a “crooked road,” as do we all, to get to the “leap.”

angelica

I really need to get over myself!

The other two roles played by Meg Ryan are the daugh­ters of Gray­namore, Angel­ica and Patri­cia. Angel­ica is the wastrel. She has money, yet wastes her days in empty pur­suit of noth­ing.

She says, “I am com­pletely untrust­wor­thy … I’m a flibbertigibbet.”

She can­not seem to set her­self in motion. She claims to be a painter and poet. Her only paint­ing hangs in a restau­rant owned by her father. As for her poetry:

Angel­ica: Would you like to hear one of my poems?
Joe: Sure.
Angel­ica: “Long ago, the del­i­cate tan­gles of his hair cov­ered the empti­ness of my hands.” Would you like to hear it again?

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Joe is “all com­pas­sion”- he sees Angelica’s pain and lone­li­ness, and treats her with great dig­nity. How­ever, he is clear about his own path, and says, [to Angelica]

If you have a choice between killing your­self and doing some­thing you’re scared of doing, why not take the leap and do the thing you’re scared of doing?”

Do it alone, in groups

patricia

Soul sick, and ready to leap…

At every stage, there was some­one “right there” who mir­rored Joe’s state of mind. In each case, Joe had to learn what he could, and move on, leav­ing DeDe, leav­ing Angel­ica, behind.

Joe meets Patri­cia aboard the ship that is sup­posed to take him to the Pacific Island. They get off to a rocky start, but later real­ize a deep attrac­tion. They are on the adven­ture together, although they also seem to “get” that they are inde­pen­dent of each other.

Tossed into the sea of change, the sea of tur­moil, each helps the other to make it to shore. Only the shore they make it to is the one they sought, and there’s a vol­cano ahead.

They dis­cover that there is more to vol­cano jump­ing than sim­ply show­ing up.

The path is pretty much one per­son wide. This is clear in the assent up the vol­cano — but here’s the point. Oth­ers are walk­ing the same path. You just have to go and find them — metaphor­i­cally cross an ocean to find them. There will be, as in the movie, ship­wrecks, and your bag­gage always come with you (It’s his lug­gage that saves Joe twice.) That being said,

Joe: “But there are cer­tain times in your life when I guess you’re not sup­posed to have any­body, you know? There are cer­tain doors you have to go through alone.”

We encour­age an active hunt for peo­ple who are walk­ing on the path with you.

There are oppor­tu­ni­ties to stop and talk, reflect, inter­act “get mar­ried,” etc. But again, the walk to the lip of the vol­cano is a solo trip that most peo­ple resist.

Why? because the nor­mal, mun­dane, day-to-day slog is so much fun? Because putting work (even fun work) ahead of “leap — work” is “what’s expected?” I offer “leap­ing” to many of my clients, and often that’s when “out come the excuses.” Maybe it would be best to re-evaluate.

Or, as Joe said to Patri­cia, his soul and sole mate, after all was said and done:

I saw the moon when we were out there on the ocean, shin­ing down on every­thing. I’d been mis­er­able so long. Years of my life wasted. Been a long time com­ing here to meet you. A long time, on a crooked road. Did I ever tell you the first time I saw you, I felt like I’d seen you before?”

He had.

leap

It’s almost a require­ment, this leap, if you don’t want to just lie there and take it. Drop­ping the excuses and walk­ing to edge requires great courage, and leap­ing — well, let’s just say you can’t bet on there being a net. There may just be, how­ever, an out­come you’d never have expe­ri­enced, pre-leap.

Still, the reluc­tance runs deep. Few make the leap, and some drown in the process. At the movie’s cli­max, Patri­cia joins Joe at the edge of the precipice, and they gaze into the flames.

Joe: Don’t do it [leap] for me.”

Patri­cia: “I’m not doing it for you! Joe, nobody knows any­thing. We’ll take this leap and we’ll see, we’ll jump, and we’ll see. That’s life.”

What, oh what, is so pre­cious about putting in time until you die?

Go, watch “Joe Ver­sus the Vol­cano,”. Then find your “vol­cano,” and leap!


Make Con­tact!

So, how does this week’s arti­cle sit with you? What ques­tions do you have? Go to the top of this arti­cle, click on the title, and leave a com­ment or question!


Work­shops, Retreats!

Dar­bella and I can help you to find a new, vibrant, rich path. We offer day-long and week­end events —just you and us—and we will work with you, to be the change you want to see.

Read about it here:

Day-long Inten­sives
Week­end Residentials


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