Viewing the movie The
Way again reminded me that there are some movies that you have to see
multiple times to begin to get what they have to offer. Since this is one that gets better the more
times you see it I won’t be spoiling it for anyone who hasn’t yet made their
own Camino.
Early in the movie we see a flashback that sets up one of
the central themes of the movie. Tom has
learned that his 40 year old son, Daniel, has been killed in a tragic accident
during a storm in the Pyrenees. As his
train approaches the village in which he will identify and claim the body, he
remembers his last conversation with his estranged son. Tom and Daniel have argued over the path each
has taken in life and Tom defends his experience saying, “This is the life I
have chosen.” Daniel responds sadly, “A
life isn’t something you choose, Dad, it is something you live.”
We don’t get enough detail in the conversation to know just
what Daniel means by that comment, but the contrast in their lives is
clear. Tom is settled into a profession
and is tired. He doesn’t even want to
walk the short distance to the golf ball to take his next shot but his
ophthalmology patients are scheduled a month in advance. Daniel is going to hike 500 miles across
Spain and has no idea what he will do after that.
So the death of his only son at a time when he is confused
about himself and still mourning the death of his wife tips the balance and Tom
decides to walk the Camino with the ashes of Daniel. Along the way he meets other pilgrims and
they tag along with him. When he finally
softens toward them he gets into a conversation with “Jack from Ireland” whom
Tom has identified is much like Daniel.
But Jack justifies his life as a travel writer who still hasn’t started
on the novel he dreams of writing by saying, “This is the life I have
chosen.” Unlike Daniel, Jack sees a life
as something you choose.
In the parlance of the movie there is a distinction between
a life as something you choose and a life as something you live. And it isn’t about being a romantic vagabond.
I had a conversation many years ago with a colleague who
challenged me to be more ambitious. His
critical feedback was that I wasn’t clarifying what I wanted in life and going
after it. I remember noting to
myself—more than to him, he wasn’t asking me about my philosophy—that it was my
sense that most of the really amazing things that had happened in my life arose
in a manner that seemed random or even capricious. I was afraid that if I tried to be too
focused on creating a specific outcome I would plan out the serendipity. Still I took his counsel to heart at least
enough to become more self-critical. It
doesn’t seem that one can have a life well lived if one only accepts whatever
arises.
I am tempted to suggest that we may need to find a balance
between “choosing” and “living” but that seems too passive a stance. A more active framework is one I first
learned in the writings of George Leonard.
He urges us to engage in focused
surrender. Pay keen attention and
put all your effort into it and then… let go.
At the School for Living this week we will be exploring the
phenomenon of anxiety. This feeling
arises when something is out of balance in our lives. It can be a call to action if we hear it
correctly.
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