Finding Calcutta

"You have to leave the city of your comfort and go into the wilderness of your intuition. What you'll discover will be wonderful. What you'll discover is yourself." ~Alan Alda, American actor, director, screenwriter, and author (b 1936)

My brother Kirk had a banana Popsicle. He was sitting on our old green glider going gently back and forth, a pale yellow ring forming around his lips. The Popsicle had two sticks so it could be separated into two Popsicles. I had been circling trying to figure out the best approach.

Finally, I tried the direct one: “Hey Kirk, how ‘bout giving me half of your Popsicle.” “NO,” he replied, looking straight ahead. “You can share it; it’ll split right in half.” “NO,” he repeated. “I’ll let you ride my bike.” “NO, I have my own bike,” he smirked, shifting his gaze only slightly.

For the next five minutes I pleaded, threatened, cajoled and begged, but to no avail. Finally, I realized my brother wasn’t coveting his Popsicle so much as he was enjoying saying “NO” to me. “What kind of a brother are you anyway,” I yelped in desperation. “The kind who knows where the Popsicles are,” he responded smugly. “Why don’t you go get your own Popsicle?”

I let the screen door slam in defiance as I headed into the house. Rummaging through the top of our old Frigidaire I came upon a Dreamsicle (my brother’s favorite) tucked all the way in the back.

Triumphantly I returned to the glider, plopped down next to Kirk, and began dramatically unwrapping the frozen delight. “Hey, where’d you get that?” Kirk asked. “Same place you got that,” I responded, pointing at what was left of the banana Popsicle.

“I’ll let you share the rest of my Popsicle if you give me a bite of the Dreamsicle,” Kirk offered in his most conciliatory tone. Pausing for effect I turned my head to meet my brother’s gaze. “Why don’t you go get your own Dreamsicle;” I said parroting his earlier remark. A moment later I sunk my teeth into the coveted ice cream treat.

There is an oft repeated story, credited to Erma Bombeck, about a very successful woman. No longer finding satisfaction in her career or the money it brought her; she decided, in a moment of clarity, to write Mother Teresa of Calcutta. She sought Mother Teresa’s advice on what she could do to change her life and volunteered to come to Calcutta to help. Time passed, so much so it appeared no reply would come; till one day a battered letter arrived with a Calcutta postmark.

She opened it, and inside, on a single sheet of plain paper, she found a one-sentence reply: "Thank you for your offer, but find your own Calcutta." Though some of us might react to the seeming abruptness of the response it bears tremendous wisdom.

The exchange between my brother and me was all about what we wanted and couldn’t have. We perceived the answer to our happiness as something which seemed to be satisfying someone else. This goes deeper than envy. It is an engrained belief that if something makes someone else happy it will make us happy as well. There is an entire industry built upon this concept… It is called advertising.

Mother Teresa’s response goes deeper than simply responding to what makes us happy. It is a challenge which begins with the word “FIND.” Finding something requires more of us than responding to the first thing which gets our attention. If we are to find anything of value we are called to plan, to seek, to consider, to discern; and sometimes to even start over.

The second key to the statement is “YOUR OWN.” The successful woman thought someone else’s path would provide her with the satisfaction she sought. In reality, we are all uniquely gifted. Each one of our personal “Calcutta’s” will be different.

Much of this is conditioned by where our gifts lie and where they do not. Part of the process is not only looking outward, but looking inward as well. Often, the answer to what is “OUR OWN CALCUTTA” is not a matter of what we need, but what needs us.

Finally, Calcutta is a long way away. Our Calcutta will likely be a long way away for us as well. This means we need to start now. It also means, like the journey of a thousand steps, it will take many small steps to get us there. Life is not a movie. There are few cathartic moments and no music crescendos when they do come. More often than not, one day we will suddenly realize, “This was my Calcutta.”

Dear God: Remind me that I may need to become lost to find myself.

“I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I intended to be.” ~Douglas Adams, English writer and dramatist, (1952-2001)


© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.