Storymania - Zen And Zoom by Kathy Lafollett

Zen And Zoom
Kathy Lafollett

For my husband, who is and always will be the center of my universe.

In 6 weeks or so I’ll be 41 years of age. This is not a matter of grave importance, or a substantive statement toward my own value as a human. But, this gateway does usher in an epiphany of sorts for me as mother, wife, daughter, and female.

The last 3 years have been a warp zone inasmuch as life and all its dynamics have forced me to reevaluate who I am and why I do the things I do on a daily basis. At 39 I removed the term "obligation" from my vocabulary. In our society there seems to be a current of obligatory guilt that streams from one individual to another. I often have wondered if consumerism as it pertains to holidays hasn’t promoted that portion of life’s demands. I hold Hallmark liable. Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Secretary’s Day, Grandparent’s Day, and all the other "days" they’ve chosen either by Executive order or merely as another reason to produce a line of gift cards, has laid out in calendar format obligations.

Why, I ask myself, must there be a special "day" when in essence everyday should produce actions and natural human interactions that support the idea that all those who carry these titles should be treated with respect and honor? Why just one day? And if an employer, child, wife, husband, grandchild waits for that one day to show thanks, what good are the remaining 364 days?

At 40 I removed the terms "American Dream" and "Happy" from their 39 year state into a more reliable definition within the context of life. The American Dream is a fallacy, a lie. It does not exist. Again, I hold consumerism and all corporations utilizing this lie as a marketing tool liable. Drive the "right" car, live in the "right" house, send the kids to the "right" school, possess the "right" job title, wear the "right" clothes" ad nauseam. I have one question, who defined the term "right’ and why is it "right" for me? To hell with that, I define what’s "right".

"Happy", although a good word, is not a state of being, not as a human per say. I have replaced it with the term "content". Somewhere in my first 18 years of life everyone forgot to tell me that life is a series of challenges; they change, they morph, they ebb and they flow, but it is always a series. One can be content in that flux, but not necessarily happy. I have embraced the idea that I can rest content in any state on any given day.

Approaching 41 with my revised set of vocabulary and motives has been a liberating time. It’s also been an influence on my husband. I am an influencer. He too, has adopted my revised vocabulary. Together we are entering into a new phase of life which has influenced our children. We are influencers.

As a 3D graphic artist, 80% of my day is spent at a computer. I communicate through it, create with it, plan with it, and generally interface with a monitor 10 hours a day. This can be hard on the back as well as the mind. Deciding to bring in a bit of Zen I bought a tree, a small tree, just 8 inches high. He lives in a small unglazed pot. I nurture him, water him, prune him and coax him to become a lovely Bonsai style that when looked upon calls a vision of an old wisdom-of-the-ages tree. He has been an influence on me. He too, is an influencer. He influenced me to buy more trees. I have 17 Bonsai now. They are all influencers of varying sizes, shapes and states of being, and they are all flourishing.

I’ve been pushing my graphic design company for a few years now chasing that "American Dream" of success, money, et al. At 40 I gave up that definition, which skewed my motives with my work. Why was I sitting in front of a monitor all day when I could be doing something more fulfilling? Why was I spending 7 days a week in front of a monitor pushing for a state of success that would force me to continue to work 7 days a week in front of a monitor? I had lost my mind obviously. I posed the question to my husband, which only forced another question.

"Why am I working 5 days a week programming so that I can continue to work 5 days a week programming?" he countered.

"Damn good question. Obviously you’ve lost your mind." I replied.

Since Cali and I are both logic based individuals, he a Sr. Programmer, I a 3D CG Artist, we immediately went to the local bookstore and spent a few hundred dollars on gardening books, bonsai books, and all other books as it pertains to the Zen state of Organic gardening and the oriental style of "little tree in a pot". To regain our sanity it seemed imperative to choose a path as polar as the Earth’s poles from our current situations. Damn the computer chips, full speed ahead!

Over the span of 5 months our front porch became a jungle proffering all types of edible beings in herb and vegetable form. Countless containers filled to the brim with good things. Trees in pots also take their place among the collection of seed bearing Zen.

Ironically, as we realized by friends and coworkers request to purchase said Zen in Containers, this could be a business. Something that can sustain us in our capitalist state of life, yet remove us from the cold corporate driven wheel we’ve been taught to embrace. I immediately found myself back in front of a monitor designing a website for the very thing that would ultimately replace that monitor.

Daily we would rise with the birds to tend our small gardens and trees to then part ways at 8 am.; he to his office setting, me to continue the digital storefront as well as nurturing both plant and children present. An epoch of perfection was reached about 4 weeks ago. Flourishing foliage, rising interest in a growing consumer base, happy children, and I quite contentedly going about the daily routine of keeping everyone and everything well fed and watered. We were exponentially growing in knowledge and contentment until…Cali found a 2004 two-tone Orange Victory Vegas Motorcycle.

Actually it started before that. Blurred vision kicked in about the time Cali THOUGHT about a motorcycle, I’m not quite clear about the moment that this occurred, but as he became more interested, he became more driven to locate just the right bike. Cal focused on Harley Davidson, Ducatti, Honda, and Aprilia. It seemed the more he thought about it the more motorcycles were manufactured until ultimately I was certain that these companies had a direct patch into his brain and were pumping out models to his exact thought specifications. How many types of motorcycles are there, REALLY?

The world may never know.

I realized that his epiphany did not necessarily lie within mine. Zen masters teach a perfect state of life success that garners full respect from life, or Kwan. Cali’s epiphany lay in the freedom and exhilaration of riding a bike of supreme creamy mojo; the Victory Vegas, his Kwan. At 34, Cali was changing his vocabulary from Jeep to Victory.

The internet, spread before him via his monitor, presented hundreds of options, thousands of details, and millions of reviews, opinions, and locations of procurement. His joy grew and fervor rose with every website visit and new detail found. Passionately he read, reread, viewed and assimilated the world of motorcycle ownership. The mere act of research brought such a joy to him; he was a child in a candy store with a ten dollar bill.

I continued to water the plants. Content in the act of watching him dive headfirst into this new world he hoped to join. We would together, go out into the world and visit motorcycle stores in our area. I appreciated the beauty of design that contained power, speed and a level of life quality that only some understood in these machines. Cali would sit on one, get up, sit on another; I could see his eyes half close with imagination as he envisioned himself powering down the roads of Florida. Was THIS the bike?

He asked that question a dozen times.

I continued to water the plants, content in knowing that sooner or later, he’d make a choice.

Somewhere in the annals of Psychotherapy there is a dissertation called "Garage Theory and how it applies to the Male’s Ego and Id". In this hidden white paper a theory is spelled out that every husband needs a garage. A place he can go that his wife and children cannot. This garage is a place that defines the male, a place that only the male can change and impact. Only the male is allowed in, and only he can invite others to enter.

Cali’s garage is the Victory Vegas. A mobile concept, the bike will offer freedom in movement and autonomy of thought that expresses his personality and maleness. I embraced this higher definition and entered the fray as we took the final step towards purchase. I took the position of accountant, secretary and legal aid.

And I continued to water the plants.

Utilizing the internet he found the bike and the dealer and the deal.

We visited the local dealership to view the orange Vegas in person. She sat in the showroom floor in all her glory. I was sold. I was smitten. Cali took a seat on his thrown of Kwan and melded into his state of bliss. Yes this was the bike.

A moment of dickering took place that would rival any point of sale on the streets of India. The dealer and Cali head to head; offer to counter offer to add-on for free plus a bit over cost. We left the store both in a bit of mindless puppy love over an entity of steel, chrome and aluminum.

Damn, I forgot to water the plants.

In the evening, we sat on the front porch surrounded by our jungle of Zen discussing his Victory Vegas. It seems one is mandated to name one’s bike. I didn’t name my plants, but a bike must be named it seems. After false starts and word plays on Las Vegas (I suggested Elvis. Which proves even a creative may not always be creative) a title of perfection was realized; Kwan, and on the plates, MY KWAN. Cali had found his Kwan as I had found my Zen.

A holiday weekend brought a bit of Karma to the situation at hand. The dealership’s offer seemed less inviting to Cali on Saturday than it did on Friday. He once again rode the digital highway for a better deal and landed in North Carolina. Through email conversations he had obtained a better offer, and saved a few thousand on the same bike. On Sunday Arizona was in play. A counter offer to the North Carolina offer that also beat Florida! Was this March Madness? A sporting event played with a ball shaped like a bike?

I continued to water the plants.

On Monday, a National Holiday, Cali proffered the Arizona counter-offer to the North Carolina offer to the Florida dealership. No reply. Destiny played a card, as Cali played a Visa and put the down payment on the bike. In the dry air of Arizona, tucked away in Phoenix sat his Victory Vegas. It was up to us to rescue it from the grips of a retail setting and bring her home.

Time passed, but not fast enough for Cali. The FedEx truck came to our door with a package containing the scripts and declarations that would set his Chrome Kwan free.

At this point I’m not working on our digital storefront, and am only watering the plants. All efforts and time and focus are laid bare to the Kwan of Phoenix. Interstate purchases, although common, are not necessarily simple. The package of paperwork was a veritable cryptic puzzle that had to be unlocked to release the prize.

Odometer readings, VIN numbers, interest rates, document fees, insurance, monies down, shipping, verifications, notice of warranties, power of attorney, title transfer, disclaimer of warranties, pay schedules, loan brokers, credit union, retail order forms and general applications stared up at me from my desk.

I just want to grow some plants!

My Zen had been blocked by this point. A bit of frustration rose in my chest. Would obtaining the Kwan destroy my Zen? Would chasing the Kwan down like a greyhound to a plastic rabbit be the demise of my next personal metamorphosis? Would this NEVER END! I set to task obliterating this final stage acquisition like a five-star general in the theatre of war. I would eliminate this, and I would finish this, because I just want some peace.

And I just want to grow some plants!

To alleviate the stress, I took my turn at the internet and ordered 2 new trees. It helped.

I have learned while walking this path of enlightenment that one cannot necessarily embrace another’s Zen or Kwan or garage for that matter. One can respect it, possibly admire it and even look forward to its arrival and sharing it. But, at some point that Zen or Kwan belonging to another becomes labor and not necessarily a labor of love. Your only goal is acquisition so that you don’t have to focus on it anymore.

It’s been 3 days since the FedEx truck dropped off the package containing all that paperwork.

Our plants are watered. The paperwork is done. Cali is at work and soon the Kwan will arrive. Order has been restored to my immediate universe. My new trees, ordered at the height of my frustration will arrive today. I am once again centered.

Until an email arrives from Cali who is currently sitting at his office desk.

There seems to be a small matter about a helmet, gloves, boots, leather jacket, and pants, stage two upgrades, new pipes, tachometer, saddlebags….

I water my plants while quietly giggling. I love this man and his Kwan. Without him no amount of anything would work. HE is my Zen, all else is an added on item I must have negotiated on our wedding day.

Life is a series of challenges; they change, they morph, they ebb and they flow, but it is always a series. I couldn’t be happier about every inch of my life. This reminds me, I may need to change the change I made back in ’03, as there is such a thing as happy.