On Becoming a Frog

Yes, you read that correctly. Becoming a frog, and by extension, exercising my ‘frog-ness’ is, and has always been my goal, an ideal even. And one that I actively and even passionately pursue. This, I understand, will involve something of a digression, which of course I am happy to do.

As nearly forty years of journal writing will attest, I have spent my entire adult life trying to understand, define, explain, explore, protect, or simply come to terms with what is going on inside of my head. Ever since my mind was blown open by Lennon at nineteen, I have been utterly consumed by the tantalizing glimpses of a deeper, more elusive ‘self’ that was clearly demanding that I explore it. I was given no choice! Back then I didn’t have a proper understanding of what that fully meant, nor did I have the aesthetic vocabulary necessary to read the signposts along the way. I simply ‘felt’ there was a deeper part of me lurking in the fog of my confusion.

The imperative to become a ‘Frog’ comes courtesy of Tom Robbins, whose book, “Wide Awake in Frog Pajamas” I first read in my twenties. It was this book that  introduced me to quite a unique way of seeing myself. Of course with Robbins, there are multiple threads of off-the-wall ideas weaving in and out of his stories, but one of the more inventive ideas, imagined as only Robbins can, is that we should all aim to become Frogs, metaphorically speaking of course, which he carefully explained is not to be confused with becoming a Toad. This is an important distinction because Toads are heavy, rough skinned land creatures that are not well-adapted to the water, while Frogs are athletic, nimble and are adept either above or below the water’s surface. That is key, so stay with me.

The poignance there centers on the idea that who we think we are, as unique, self-determined, self-aware individuals, is very often distracted by the surface noise we impose upon it. Psychologists have a term for this intrusion, which they label our “default mode,” meaning that we spend the bulk of our time listening to, and being directed by, the chatter inside our head. There we constantly talk to ourselves; we ruminate on past conversations, we stress over perceived slights from random encounters, we pass judgements, worry about how others view of us, obsess over money, careers, desires, and passions. We are all over the place, and this is perfectly normal. It is our default mode, after all. Even if we briefly break away from this constant inner dialog, we often replace it with others by way of entertainment. We simply set aside our own story to take on someone else’s, either real or fictional. It’s in this view that Robbins’ analogy exposes a bug in our pathology, which is our need to be entertained, even at the expense to ourselves, locking us into a life on the surface of things. This is life on dry land……the life of a Toad.

There is, however, another mode of existing that is both deeper and far richer that deserves our attention. It is a place that we all possess but seldom acknowledge or contemplate in any meaningful way, let alone spend quality time with. This place can be as hard to grasp as a wisp of vapor, yet once experienced feels solid as bone. This is the place where the distractions of the world fall harmlessly away, and our true genuine selves are allowed to breathe, deeply, or to use Robbins’ analogy, to  swim. This is life below the surface, swimming in the waters of soul.

But with that a simple question naturally arises… how do we find this pond of the soul? And what does it mean to ‘swim’ in it? The secret? There is no secret. That’s the blunt truth of it. A single one-size-fits-all path simply does not exist. We are all unique individuals, full stop. But……I can share with you how I get there.

Place yourself in my mind……don’t be scared, its ok, and imagine yourself with me while listening to a long-time favorite song, such as U2’s “A Sort of Homecoming”, a song itself about an inner homecoming, and allow a complete surrender to the moment and fully experience Bono’s full-throated spiritual yearning for deliverance during its finale.

Or to the astonishing sound of a world class violinist capturing notes that shattered my understanding of what a mere frequency of sound could do to a mind. Put yourself there with me, at the Schermerhorn, where I heard a single note, so exquisite and so incredibly piercing that it literally expanded the way I feel as a person, and I felt myself expand the moment I heard it.

Or even the experience of meditation and the stunning degree true inner peace that comes from a concentrated focus, whether on the breath, sensations in the body, or my favorite, the sound of birds singing in the evenings around my home. It may sound dubious for those who have not tried it, but when I sit outside in the evenings, as I do often, then shut my eyes and specifically focusing on each and every chirp, from each member in attendance, that a symphony will soon emerge. There will be a bird chirping to my left at 20 yards, followed by another one to my right, but in a different cadence, then others in various yards throughout the neighborhood in a dozen different spots, all singing their different melodies, all adding their voice to the stunning evening concerto.

These are but a few of my own examples of taking momentary dips into the pool. You will have your own, of course… I hope. All it takes is a willingness to surrender to the experience and allow it to take you where it will. Trust me, the water is fine.

To circle back with Robbins’ analogy, I recall a story from Joseph Campbell that continues to resonate in my life and beautifully fits within this conversation. Campbell explained that how we perceive ourselves is very similar to seeing our reflection in a pond. But due to our daily responsibilities and the constant distractions that arise, we seldom get a chance to SEE ourselves properly. Each new distraction that vies for our attention has the effect of pebbles being thrown into the water, creating a cascade of ripples. Therefore, on those occasions when we’re able to steal a glimpse of ourselves, we see nothing but broken images. Even when we briefly capture a clear view, it quickly disappears with the next distraction. After a while we begin to identify only with those broken fragments and think of ourselves only in terms of those fleeting glimpses.

But, if we can stop the distractions, even for brief moments, and sooth the tempest swirling in our minds, then it’s possible that we can see our true reflections staring back to us.

Many years ago, back when my son, Scott, was perhaps ten, I took him to the annual “Renaissance Festival” just outside of Nashville, and while casually observing jewelry at one of the many tents, I noticed an inexpensive necklace that held a Frog as its pendent and I immediately thought of Robbins book and his imperative to “become frogs” and bought the necklace on the spot….and I have been wearing that necklace ever since. In fact, I refuse to wear it with any sort of clasp that would allow it to be removed. I tie it in a knot instead. This is with deliberate intention. Therefore, I wear a frog around my neck with the same understanding that a Christian wears a cross, meaning that it works as a daily reminder, a type of mantra, of who I really am…….a water loving amphibian.