Journal of Sacred Work

When the sun is shining, as it is today, I’m in love.  – Paul McCartney

   An article in the June 4 New Yorker magazine seeks to chronicle the life of the 20th century’s greatest pop musician. "Paul McCartney then and now" is the essay’s subtitle. What emerges in the story is an account of a genius willing to trust his instincts. Among the many ironies in the life of this complex soul is that McCartney can neither read nor write music. Neither could his partner, John Lennon. Yet McCartney has nevertheless pursued a rigorous discipline that has enabled him to send his gift for improvising into our ears.
   The randomly awarded potentials of caregivers also need discipline in order to flower…

   McCartney made two hard tries to learn music. His reason for failure is fascinating. "I couldn’t seem to match the notes to what was in my head," he reports. This observation is a comment on his fortitude. Most of the rest of us would never persist in a music career against the challenges of those who would seek to defeat us with the nagging question: "What, you can’t read music? You better try another career."

   As I have shared before, I once read that most small children test as geniuses up to the age of four. After that, the fall off in IQ is stunning. What happens to us? Does life crush genius?
   The improvisational abilities of children at ages three and four are enchanting. As I watch my three year old grandson act out an endless array of imaginary characters, make up songs and prance around the room to a rhythm only he seems to hear, I see confirmation of his gift to be spontaneous.
   What will become of these presents as he ages into this world? And what’s wrong with the rest of us? Part of the answer lies in the strangling strictures of society. Adults don’t  engage in much spontaneous behavior. It’s not adult. It’s not professional. The few who get away with wacky behavior are viewed with either alarm (sometimes causing them to be institutionalized) or amazement, as with the comedic gifts of actor Robin Williams.
   It’s true that professionalism requires that we do some play-acting. After all, no one wants their surgeon to emerge from the operating room screaming, "Oh my God, the blood in there was terrible."
   Useful creativity seems to be grounded in a mix of the free-spirited child with the disciplined adult. At my son-in-law’s computer company, for example, teams of engineers are encouraged to play. But their play has a point. A useful product needs to emerge from all of their energy and genius.
   Success with improvisation is an alchemy of preparation, skill, talent and the whimsical voice of genius. The first two can be developed, the last two are more random.
   When caregiving workplaces soar to greatness, as continues to happen in healing settings like Mercy Gilbert Hospital in Arizona, St. Joseph Hospital in California and Parrish Medical Center in Florida, it is because leadership knows how to reawaken the exultation of childlike creativity and channel it into the rich riverbed of loving care. Everyone at these hospitals knows that there is serious work to be done. They also know that the answers that are needed require more than technology and business savvy.
   To engage the human heart, some tolerance for spontaneity is needed.
   I watched good judgment in action as I viewed, from afar, the selection process for a new Chief Nursing Officer at Parrish Medical Center awhile back. Unwilling to pick from the first few "finalists," CEO George Mikitarian and his leadership team knew they hadn’t found the right choice yet. Their willingness to forbear led to a superb selection. Now, Edwin Lofton heads nursing at this #1 Healing Hospital and the whole department is the better for it. The final choice may, in some ways, feel random. In the end, leadership made the right decision because they were guided by Love instead of a sense of immediacy.   
   As I read about Paul McCartney, I noticed one other thing. The singer continues to feel
a sense of awe and gratitude about the luck that has come his way. To him, much of his success seems random. He walked into a church songfest at age fifteen and found a friendship with the sixteen-year old lead singer, John Lennon. Later, on a bus, he met a fourteen-year old named George Harrison. The music for McCartney’s classic song "Yesterday"(1965) came to him in a dream. He was fifteen when he wrote the song "When I’m Sixty-Four." And now, at the age of sixty-four, McCartney remains startled by his good luck.
   Was it all truly random? Or is it a commentary on this man’s genius that he was wise enough to listen to his instincts, to follow his bliss, and thus to become a channel for music that most of the world knows today.
   We all hear music, see art, feel poems. We all have dreams. Perhaps it is time for us to listen more carefully to the random occurrences in our lives. After all, how does any dream become reality?      

-Erie Chapman