THE YOGA CHRONICLES: CONFESSIONS OF A RELUCTANT YOGI

“ATTACHMENTS”

            “My opponent is a quiche-eating liberal and a political harlot who would lift his skirts for anyone with a dollar.” –Tom Barron, March, 1984

            It was one of those lines that was simply too good not to use.

If I do say so myself.

The line left nothing unsaid: I called him soft and a woman, which in East Texas was decidedly worse than calling him a whore.

I liked the idea of being a guy who could write and deliver such a line. I liked the idea that I knew it would make the headlines and lead the evening news. I liked the idea of being a boy wonder politician.

It was the age of Reagan and I was a candidate running for the District 6 legislative seat in the Democratic primary against a one-term incumbent named David Hudson, to be held the first Saturday in May, 1984.

What possessed me to run to be a member of the legislature is a toxic combination of dilettantism and youthful naiveté that makes me cringe to this good day. I have never given any real thought as to why I would have wanted to be party to the biennial money buyoff of the Texas legislature but there I was- all twenty three years and elevens months of me- walking around shaking hands and kissing babies.

After all, I did have an impressive resume of four years of frat house drinking and a five-month stint as a speechwriter for Bob Bullock under my belt so why wouldn’t anyone vote for me? (On the other hand, these same credentials had worked pretty well for George W. Bush.)

My monumental ego had not even considered the possibility of losing a political race in my own hometown, but things were getting a little desperate late in the campaign. The political traction I thought I would get never materialized as more moderate democrats began to flock to the republican primary, eroding what I had thought would be a strong political base.

This mass exodus from the party created a strong backlash by the democrats in the primary, with labor unions and teachers pulling even further to the left to protect their incumbent office holders.

The political center I had counted on had all but disappeared so I had to do something, even if it was perhaps the ultimate political Hail Mary. (I feel compelled to say it was absolutely the correct political move from a strategic standpoint; pushing him further to the left might cause voters to reconsider their support for a candidate who might not survive the general election.)

So that dark March morning, I stepped to the podium at the Women’s Building in Tyler, Texas and delivered possibly the most inflammatory political speech of mine or perhaps anyone else’s political career, the most memorable line of which is quoted above.

I take a certain solace in knowing that I had the stones to actually deliver that speech to my opponent’s face, rather than say it in an attack ad. On the other hand, that would have been more effectively politically.

My mother knew there was trouble in the wind when her nail lady looked up at the television at the beauty parlor and said,”Uh oh, Miz Barron, Tommy done did something.”

The teaser for the six o’clock news that evening had begun with, “It’s amazing the walls of the Women’s Building are still standing tonight….” The speech made the front page of the afternoon paper (yes, there used to be afternoon papers) and was ultimately picked up by the wire services. Friends took joy in forwarding me copies from as far away as Washington, D.C.

I’ll never know if the speech caused me to lose the election or if the fact I was a supremely underqualified dilettante had anything to do with it.

In the years since, I have come to realize this loss was a true gift of understanding and insight that one can only attain from being fully vested in something and failing. After the campaign, my friend “E-Street” Judy Cook Birdsong once said to me that I had something none of the rest of my friends had, foolishly thinking she meant understanding and insight.

But even before I had a chance to ask, she said, “political enemies.”

That was the greatest insight of all.

I had said something to hurt someone for my own personal gain.

And I hadn’t cared until long after I said it. At the time it was hard because it was inflammatory and required girding oneself to the very real possibility of a cuss fight and perhaps even a fist fight, neither of which are unheard of in Texas politics.

But as I grew older, I realized I said something to and about an adult, a grown man with both the dignity and political savvy to weather the storm even though I am certain his instincts were to kick my ass.

Even worse, I realized was a punk kid who said it to a man with a family who read and heard it.

Worse yet, I realized I was a punk kid who said it because I thought I wanted something that–in the end- I never really wanted at all.

I just liked the idea of it.

It wasn’t until last night when the true lesson of that experience became apparent. After our weekly Friday Night Happy Hour Restorative yoga class, I was headed into Matt’s in Lakewood for our weekly Friday Night Happy Hour Restorative drinking session when I was stopped by a friendly and vaguely familiar face.

David Hudson. The man who ruined my political career.

            Thirty years and six grandchildren later, his hair remains the color of straw and there is a hell of a lot of it. His face remains boyish despite his sixty-six years but there was a warmth to it, a warmth I had never seen and which I certainly did not deserve. We shook hands in earnest, perhaps for the first time.

For me, there was something transcendent in that moment, an ultimate understanding about that primary experience almost thirty years ago. It was a weight lifted off my shoulders, absolution for a childish comment made thirty years before.

We may have enemies in this life but they are our enemies and are part of our journey. They can be and should be cherished. I remember Muhammad Ali once saying of Joe Frazier, “I love Joe Frazier because he makes me work so damn hard.”

Enemies are the people in this life who shape us in ways in which we do not want to be shaped. Enemies make you decide if something is really worth it because they’re standing in your way.

They force us to decide if we really want something or if we just like the idea of it.

So maybe they are not enemies at all.

In retrospect, I owe David Hudson a great deal. Losing that election changed the direction of my life. It sent me to law school, after which I got a job where I met a beautiful and talented woman who challenges my pretenses and affectations every day and makes me decide what I really want.

She is the woman who took the picture.

In yoga, we talk about ridding ourselves of attachment. Not only did David reshape my journey thirty years ago by stripping me of my attachments, he let me off the hook last night.

Thank you, David.

And I’m sorry.

© (2013) Thomas C. Barron