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Grandma Caprita and the Fart: How I Began the Long Process We Call Maturing and What Transition Has to Do With It

7/23/2018

2 Comments

 
PictureA green canoe laid always at the ready on the dock . . .
With the years that pass and the seemingly countless slips and gaffes, and the downright dumb that go with learning from mistakes, it’s entertaining, even humorous, to go back over this process we call maturing. Especially so since, as we become more involved in things Transitional, our horizons broaden; gardening spreads to planting trees and saving forests, water concerns grow to include making swales and harvesting rainwater, and personal matters multiply by the increased number of neighbors with whom I make contact. My world view widens, in short, by linking more to the earth, touching my neighboring community and observing myself in these continuous interactions.

A core group of Transition folk met together several years ago to come up with a mission statement, and — after many hours of discourse — came to an agreement about what that mission was: It is to combine work on oneself, the efforts to build closer community, and the labors to better the planet such that these combined exertions become second nature. The following letter describes an adolescent episode which I now see contributed toward my earning this maturity.

Dear Jack,

Remember when we painted Dr. Caprita’s summer camp on Saratoga Lake one summer? He wasn’t there most of the time, but his mom, who spoke only Italian was. So was his wife, and you and I had as one of our responsibilities the disposing of her empty bottles accumulated after the extended sessions she enjoyed with alcohol. That was not as exciting to a couple of nearly 16-year olds as was the rest of the time that we allowed our creative urges to paint the house according to the mood we were in and the degree of labor we felt we could expend that day in the task at hand.

A green canoe, wood-ribbed and light, laid always at the ready on the dock and could easily tempt us after breakfast, and sometimes beyond … past lunch. It wasn’t long after we launched our first excursion that we discovered standing waist deep in water, we could right a submerged but still floating canoe. Bailing out the boat was a bit tedious; tipping it over on the other hand was daring and adventurous, however accidental it was to begin with.

The good doctor paid us nominally, given our room and board and the nominal hours spent at putting a new coating on his family’s refuge. He must have guessed the shenanigans we were up to — if not actually capable of, just as he must certainly have known about his wife’s consumptive habits. For us these were insignificant; we delighted more in innovative acts with each other, which of course called for our best efforts.

Do you remember one day as we were taking a break from our “duties” you were struck by the novelty of coming near where I was sitting, turning your back to me quickly and blowing a fart? Even I had to laugh at that one, as we both did uproariously for a good while. But I would have my revenge, I thought. With the laughter over and the episode passed, the day continued. In late afternoon when we were done for the day, you were sitting indoors in an easy chair. I busied myself with one thing and another as I slowly made my way to where you were seated, avoiding looking your way all the while. Then as I drew near, I turned quickly, giving you by back and let a good hearty fart go. What I hadn’t seen was that you had gotten up and mama Caprita had taken your chair. 

I will never forget — not the astonished look on poor grandma Caprita’s face — but the mild almost passive incredulity displayed at this upstart of a young creature who had no inkling of what civility and respect could possibly mean. What kind of people do they raise in this America, she must have thought. God bless you, Mrs. Caprita. I will always be in your debt for forgiveness. I knew it not at the time, though now I do. Then is when I began the long process of maturing, of learning the effects of shame. And yes, at the same time, humor.

​—Greg Marquez

2 Comments
Sylvia Holmes
8/30/2018 11:10:24 am

Dear Greg, I enjoyed your article on the fart. I was happy to see our mission statement in print, published for all to see. I’m not sure how maturing is related to our mission but no matter. Love, Sylvia Holmes

Reply
greg marquez
8/30/2018 04:37:12 pm

Thank you for your interest in the story, Sylvia, especially since you were taken by the publication of Transition Pasadena's mission. And in light of that I respond to your message.

On describing the purpose of the piece, I had in mind the relevance of my adolescent experience to the purpose of our Transition organization. As you referenced in your note, there are three facets to what serves as our group mission: dedicating ourselves to personal growth, to the better cohesion of our community, and to advance the well being of the planet, and doing these together as if they were second nature.

How is personal maturity related to Transition? My community consists of you and me and Juan and Alice, each of us unique and empowered by our own complex of energies. We are also colored by lifetimes of numberless influences. Each of us is continually involved from moment to moment - whether we're aware of it or not - with adapting to circumstances; acting out old habits, and flexing new muscles trying another way. Juan and Alice grow as a result. They mature. Not only do their thinking and perspectives shift, but their skills and capabilities expand as the product of their new insights. At every level of life from playing marbles to fixing bicycles or executing legislation, the totality of these activities and skills comprise a collective we call community.

We see that the strength of this community consists of the totality of individual strengths. On the face of it, it's reasonable to encourage and promote separate, independent expression and creativity. But of course, there are obstacles and conflicts. But wisdom grows as we learn and grapple with events not of our choosing. As a result we learn that everything fits into the grand scheme of things and must somehow be accommodated, listened to, acknowledged.

As Juan and Alice grow, their competence in interpreting the world around them and interrelating with its individuals expands too. With sincerity, their lives and outer performances embrace the lives of other peoples' wants and wishes, which becomes a need to include others as well as the environment that surrounds them. Individual and separated world views broaden and touch each other. Discovery of inner Truths and human concerns deepen. The calls of nature, unheard or unheeded in the past become audible. Evolving individual growth, warmth of the community, and activities that feed and nourish the earth meld into unified endeavor that begins to look like a natural order to things.

However, this does not happen on its own. It is much easier to simply live an outwardly satisfying existence. The stated Transition mission points toward the individual growing; which is a difficult task. Individuals are left to their own devices, through whatever religions, spiritual practice, or rituals, by any means suitable to the individual's practice of observing and learning about one's self. That is left to the person, as it should be. Individual growth, however, is critical, and cannot be left forgotten in the triple perspective of the mission statement.

As we adjust to circumstances, an ease of going from one facet to another evolves. It becomes second nature. This maturity must necessarily be applied to form a new order, for without understanding how we think and behave, our efforts to create a new world result in repeating the chaos we see all around us.

peace to you, Sylvia

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