You Will Know Where You are Going; You Will Know How to Get There

Have you ever tried visualization as a way to get what you want or need in life?

Dad came out of the fog he’d been in for days in his end-of-life journey. From mumbling incomprehensible words and groans, he looked up at me and said clearly, “I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t know how to get there.

I squeezed his hand. With words coming deep from inside me or maybe from somewhere else entirely, I said, “Dad you’ll know where to go; you’ll know how to get there. We are all here to help you go.”

Dad submerged back into the fog. Frightened, I looked at my Connie who was my partner at 1:30 a.m. My brothers and sisters and spouses had been taking turns in pairs standing watch 24/7 by Dad’s bedside in our family home for the past three days.

“Oh Connie, did I just tell Dad it was okay to die?” I asked. I was 13 days shy of turning 40, yet in that moment I felt younger than a 13-year-old, looking frantically for my parents to tell me it was going to be alright.

Before Connie could answer my question, Dad resurfaced from his mind fog.

“I’m going home tomorrow,” he said simply and then lost consciousness again.

True to his word, Dad went home about 13 hours later with many family members surrounding him. It was September 8, 1998.

Our dad was not perfect by any means. But as decades have rolled by in my life—I’m now seven years younger than when he passed—I realize both his shortcomings and positive gifts have enriched my life and given me insight.

For instance, Dad taught me—heck, taught all of us in our family—to laugh hard and first at our own jokes. Dad’s theory was that others would begin to laugh along with your chortles—perhaps only laughing at you laughing at yourself.

Once a friend asked how I got people to laugh and I shared Dad’s secret to successful storytelling.

"Anita," I said. "You must finish a joke or funny story strong by laughing first and hardest, like Nadia Comaneci arching her arms skyward in her perfect 10 Olympic performance."

Anita tried it and reported back, “Donchyaknow Judi Stoa, it really works!”

Dad also passed along his fervent belief in visualization. I suspect he probably possessed the ability all his life to see things as they might be or will be, but in the summer of 1974, he discovered a mentor in that practice.

That year, money was tight for Dad and Mom living on two teacher’s salaries with eight growing kids. Two big seed-planting breakthroughs happened that summer. One stretched our dollars, and the other stretched our imaginations.

We stretched our dollars by growing a garden on our cousins’ farmland. The planting and caring for the garden was a family affair. I remember that Dad gave me a reprieve from the team planting so that I could train for the fall basketball season by running on our cousins' quarter-mile gravel driveway.

From watching an old 8 millimeter home movie from that day, I know that I ran quite a few miles in a wrinkly t-shirt and short, short cutoff jeans. Yes, yes, training for sports is fundamental and training out in nature is fun. But come on. Running in cutoff jeans? Honestly, the thought of doing that today just rubs me the wrong way.

So much for the garden. Let's scuffle off to how Dad stretched our imaginations.

It began with his training to sell Franklin Life Insurance during summer vacation from teaching school. As part of it, Dad got zippy with Zig Ziglar as he trained to grow his positive attitude.

The trouble is that when Dad got excited about something, he yanked all of us in to experience the wonderfulness of it all.

“Hey you kids! Get up and get in here,” Dad called excitedly one morning from the lake cottage front room. “You have to listen to Zig Ziglar! Come on—just five minutes."

I groaned and heard other youthful groans reverberating at the same frequency as mine. As a teenager at the lake cottage cloistered from friends, my scheme to survive family time was to sleep in and slip out. Eat, swim, and maybe forage for friends. But no. Nowhere in my plan had I noted to listen to some crazy Zig Zaggy guy who wanted to change my life.

But Dad had his way. Similar to the deceptive speed he unleashed when he chased us around the house with a spoonful of the latest French dressing he had concocted and implored us to taste—sooner or later, Dad captured his prey.

I sat with three other siblings on the saggy pink, green, burgundy, and white striped couch. We scratched our mosquito bites and stirred in our seats like NASCAR drivers jockeying for position to win over more physical space from each other. But our struggling in the lumpy, slumpy couch was like fighting quicksand; the more we fought, the further we sunk into the trap. When our tussles stopped and we sat low in the couch, shoulder to shoulder and mosquito bite to mosquito bite, Dad turned on his tape recorder that he had purchased to listen to the training tapes. His blue eyes sparkled with excitement.

“Now pay attention kids. Ziggy will change your lives,” Dad said reverently.

For the next 20 minutes, we listened to Ziggy talk about how to see and bring out the best in ourselves and others. Ziggy introduced us to Edgar Cayce, the self-professed clairvoyant, who purportedly learned his studies through osmosis—Edgar slept on his schoolbook and would awaken the next morning, knowing the lesson. I don't remember much about Edgar beyond that because I was fascinated by the osmosis story. I thought what a way to go through school! I wouldn’t have to study; I could just sleep on it. When I tried it (I think all of the kids in the family tried it), the only insight I gained was that sleeping on books gives you a stiff neck, and you don't have your homework done.

But Ziggy also said stuff like, “Life is about balance. Be kind, but don’t let people abuse you. Trust, but don’t be deceived. Be content, but never stop improving yourself.”

And, “You don’t have to be great to start, but you have to start to be great.”

And finally, “The seed of a bamboo tree is planted, fertilized and watered. Nothing happens for the first year. There´s no sign of growth. Not even a hint. The same thing happens - or doesn´t happen - the second year. And then the third year. The tree is watered and fertilized each year, but nothing shows. Then - after the eight years of fertilizing and watering have passed, with nothing to show for it - the bamboo tree suddenly sprouts and grows thirty feet in three months!"

Wait. What? Wait eight years?! Eight years in a 13-year-old’s life is pretty much a lifetime, but shoot, the bamboo story planted a seed within me.

Ziggy and Dad kind of made sense. It stirred something inside. I started to wiggle a little which must have pressed the mosquito bite buttons of my siblings, because they began to stir as well.

The next day, Dad held another session in the cottage front room and he and Ziggy introduced us to Pistol Pete Maravich. Pistol Pete was a professional basketball player from 1970 to 1980. He earned his nickname because of the way he shot the basketball close to the hip, like shooting a pistol. But he also had the nickname because he was a sure shooter and great ball handler. It’s been said that if we had had the three-point line on the court back then, his Louisiana State University game point average would have been in the 50s. He shot long and scored well.

Ziggy and Dad attributed Pete’s scoring success to his practice of visualizing the shot more than from practicing the physical shot. Think about that. Pistol Pete was a scoring maniac because he spent time just visualizing—seeing himself shooting the ball and seeing and hearing the snap of the hoop net as the ball swished through it.

I wished I had followed visualization more stringently as a kid because I really do believe in it today. But I have to say, as little as I tried it back then, visualization worked for me even back then. I remember Mom and Dad asking me to do sone chores when I was just laying around the house, and I'd say, “Excuse me, but please give me some peace and quiet; I’m practicing basketball in my head.”

As the years have marched by, I’ve used Dad’s and Ziggy’s lessons not to get out of work, but rather to get more out of life. I believe in the benefits of visualization. I believe in looking for and seeing the best in myself and others. And I believe no matter what you are up against, you will be okay if you just believe.

So, for this 21st Father’s Day since my dad passed, I thank you Pops for sharing your love of learning, visualizing, and believing. And I am forever grateful that you planted a seed early on that I was able to give back to you in your hour of need: “Dad, you’ll know where you are going, and you’ll know how to get there.”

This week's lesson is to not be afraid in life. When you need to know, you'll know where you're going and you'll know how to get there.

Learn more: Nadia Comaneci Zig Ziglar Pistol Pete Maravich

Judi Stoa's Donchyaknow Life Lessons to see and bring out the best in yourself and others

Website: Judi Stoa Books

Blog: Donchyaknow Life Lessons