“But, Where Do All The Magic Turtles Go?”

It wasn’t until I was around twenty-four that my father and I began to have a relationship again. We’d been on hiatus for several seasons. The reasons for the show’s delay are typical: creative differences, salary demands, new plotlines, you know the drill. By the time I’d hit my thirties, we started to better understand one another and the similarities we shared.

Four months after turning thirty-eight and fourteen months after losing my mother, I received a call. Dad got his results back from a recent MRI. He had tumors all over his hips. It was cancer and in his pancreas and stage four. Two weeks later, he had emergency surgery on those hips and his spine. After the first hip surgery, I took the trip from my new home state to my state of origin. He and I began cataloging the things he wanted us to remember and the ways in which he now saw life.

A few weeks later, he was released from the hospital into a skilled nursing facility - things were looking up. I finished a milestone year in my career and again left my new home in exchange for the one I had left years prior. He wanted to record more of the family stories. The ones I listened to on repeat since I was a small child nestled in a pallet on my grandparents’ bedroom floor.

We hadn’t done much recording since I’d been back for this second visit. It was difficult to find time. It seemed like we spent four days in a patterned loop - settling into a space where we could weave yarns only to be interrupted by a nurse, physical therapist, long time business acquaintance, etc.

One particular morning, I managed to beat the crowds. I settled in for story time, but he asked me to read some of his favorite passages from The Bible instead. I am not religious, but I have always loved theology and philosophy and was happy to read to him from Galatians 2:1-21.

It begins with Paul being accepted by the Apostles and goes on to talk of his opposition toward Cephas (a.k.a. Saint Peter, the gatekeeper). As I began reading the requested passage, I was struck by certain phrases: “1 Then after fourteen years, I went up again to Jerusalem… 2 I went in response to a revelation and, meeting privately with those esteemed as leaders, I presented to them the gospel that I preach among the Gentiles. I wanted to be sure I was not running and had not been running my race in vain.”

I continued reading and got to the section where Paul confronts Cephas about Jewish law and what Jesus teaches and their roles within that. I thought of transcendentalist philosophy; my love of that kind of wisdom and how it stems from my father - who’s sitting next to me, waiting to die - and how in that moment none of the fights or bullshit from the past mattered. The past was he and I living out the laws of others instead of following our hearts. I read the final line from the section he chose: “21 I do not set aside the grace of God, for if righteousness could be gained through the law, Christ died for nothing!” As I finished the last verse and gave a curious, “hm,” Dad looked at me.

Out of left field he asked: “How do you think love manifests?”

It’s important to note that I have never - in my thirty-eight years of living - ever heard him speak this way. Getting him to say "I love you" was an act of Congress, for me. Throughout my adult life, I would send him messages that said nothing more than “I love you” and his response was always either: “You too” or “Ditto.”

I rushed to grab my phone so that I could record whatever was about to occur. We both needed that question and the conversation that would come from it. I responded with: “How do you think love manifests?” and hit record.

Dad: …Well, it happens in either one of two ways. Say you got the scientific guy that says: 'Look, it’s all already right here. It’s as simple as putting it in this bucket and then everything will be fine.'

Well, why will everything be fine then, when we could have another bucket and discover another beast that’s perfect for the turtle, and together they resolve all the issues.

Same difference. Same deal.

But, which one is right and which one is wrong and why would it be? And that’s - when you look at most issues with love and involving resolving whatever horrible situation it is - it’s usually that simple.

Me: Making some sound of audible recognition at this revelation.

Dad: And how does that work? If it’s that simple, who made up the rule that this is really the way to go and this isn’t. You know?

Look at Troy… Agamemnon - pew - tried to destroy it. Only to come back a few days later, and really destroy it. Ya know?

And did Helen of Troy really, really love Achilles all that much - I mean whichever one it was - why were they the guy when they were kind of chicken-shitty anyway? He didn’t have all of the qualities they say are perfect qualities for manliness and…

Where is your English course on this?

Me: On love?

Dad: Yeah.

Me: I think if life’s taught me anything… it’s that you’re spot on with the notion that a lot of us are fed with the idea of this is how love has to be or this is how a partner has to be.

And, I think throughout my life, I’ve learned the most loving acts - the best acts of love - are when we take all of that supposed to be, throw it out the window, and say: “I accept and love you exactly as you are.”

Dad: Yeah. Uh huh.

Me: All of your flaws and imperfections are what make you the magic turtle in the bucket, ya know?

Dad: Yeah… But, where do all of the magic turtles go?

Me: I think the magic turtles are inside of us, but we get kind of beat up by life, and then it makes us forget that we are the magic turtle and so is everyone else.

It’s easy to get conditioned to believe that you’re not good enough or not worthy of love…

Dad: Mm-Hm…

Me: …And then when we are conditioned that way, we lose our turtle, and we think that everybody else—

Dad: —And then, we just don’t give a shit.

Me: Yeah, yeah!

Dad: Yeah… Yeah.

There was a long pause in the recording. I tell him “I love this question” as I grab the phone from where I placed it on his chest, where his anahata is: his heart space. It rustled across the newly washed sheets from his house. He then says “What’s that?” and the recording ends.

It’s the revelation from the symbolism and philosophy and memory of moments that my father taught me. Because of all of our flaws and imperfections, I was able to discover the magic turtles and to release them from their buckets.

I was able to learn how love manifests.