Your Throat in a Tiger’s Mouth (CONCLUSION)

In last week’s newsletter, I told the incredible story of
Roy Horn’s near-death after being dragged by the throat by a
400lb White Tiger on stage in Las Vegas. If you haven’t yet
read this amazing story and the comments you wrote, go to:

      http://snipurl.com/cjdq

To see my responses to many of your comments – which I’ll
continue to post on a daily basis over the next few weeks –
every morning check out:

      http://wealthysoul.typepad.com/wealthysoul.

What struck me most about your comments regarding this
story is The Way in which each of you perceived Siegfried
and Roy’s actions. Montecore, the tiger, as you read last
week has been kept as their beloved pet – an extraordinary
act of unconditional love.

      There is, however, a major twist to this story.

And to describe it, this newsletter is longer than usual.
But if you stick with me, there may be some extraordinary
Wealthy Soul gems for you to discover about your own life.

So toward that end, I’m going to start by telling you a
Completely Disconnected Story . . . at least, so it will
seem at first. . .

It involves two close friends of mine, the honorable Dr.
Marty Finkelstein and the irrepressible Dr. Louis Leonardi.
The three of us have known each other for 25+ years from our
chiropractic school years together.

We are the perennial "odd couple" (okay, "odd triple.") –
Marty, a guitar playing romantic but the most stable of the
three of us, in the same practice for 23 years and the only
one with a family.

Then there’s Louis – The Condor – living out his dreams
traveling the world, teaching fire-walking and making his
home on the island of Bali.

And finally, there’s me, having a temperament and lifestyle
somewhere in between my two friends.  And though I’m the
(ahemm) youngest by some eight years, I often play
peacemaker. (That is, when the two of them aren’t ganging up
to put me in my boots!)

Yet the three of us – Marty, me and Louis – are inextricably
bound by our school years together, and, ironically, by
years of not-so-smooth history with each other. For
instance:

Louis was my first roommate ever, who I subsequently kicked
out of my apartment after only 3 weeks (!) living together.

And regarding Marty, I was supposed to be the pianist at his
wedding . . . and never showed up! (A whole ‘nother story).

Through some strange alchemy, despite our hilariously
melodramatic history with each other  – or because of it –
our bond has not waned, but deepened, nurtured over the
years by three forgiving natures, our mutual love of the
holistic field, and our even greater love for Truth.

Several years ago, I went out to lunch with Marty. He
complained to me about the following regarding Louis, who
was on one of his misadventures in South America:

"Can you believe this? Marty began. "Louis is off there
gallivanting around the Amazon . . . he calls the office at
5 pm . . . right during my busiest hour . . . I’ve got 12
patients in the waiting room . . . he forces my secretary
to interrupt me . . . I don’t have a moment to breath . . .
the phone connection is terrible . . . I can’t hear three-
quarters of what he’s saying . . . and he’s going on and on
about something or another he needs me to do for him,
expecting me to drop everything for him at that moment."

"That dog!" I shook my head in good-humored commiseration.
"So, what did you do?"

"I told him to call later."

"Then?"

"Then I hung up on him."

"You hung up on him?"

"I hung up on him."

"Good job," I nodded, trying to repress a smile to myself.
"So what did he tell you when he called back?"

"He didn’t." Marty shook his head dismissively. "Probably
forgot whatever it was that seemed so important to him at
the moment."

"Yeah," I agreed. "You know Louis. . . he’s just forgotten
what responsibility is, living the good life, traveling
everywhere. He just doesn’t know what it means for someone
to have a schedule any more."

With a satisfied ‘Harummph,’ Marty appeared appeased by my
answer.

Six months went by.  After I had long forgotten the incident
– this type of interaction between the three of us everyday
stuff – Louis arrived back in Atlanta. I picked him up at
the airport, whereupon the first thing he told me as I drove
him to his home was:

"Boy, is that Finkelstein a pip! I needed him to check
something out for me awhile ago about the deadline on my
Chiropractic license renewal . . . I’m in the middle of the
Amazon . . . I have to travel upstream out of this village
for two days on a broken-down boat with this half-drunk
toothless ‘capitan’ just to get to a pay phone. I’ve got to
punch it a half dozen times to get it two work . . . It then
takes me two hours to get an operator on the line who speaks
English . . . I finally get Marty on the phone and . . .
would you believe it? He hangs up on me!"

"He hung up on you?" I asked, my eyes popping.

"Yeah!" Louis snuffs.

"Unbelievable," I shake my head. Then, playing my common
role of peacemaker, I said: "Well, you know Marty. He just
lives in his own little world . . . hasn’t really done any
extensive traveling since getting into practice . . . just
forgot what it means to try to make a simple phone call
sometimes when you’re out of the country . . ."

Louis somewhat self-righteously nodded, "Yeah."

"Yeah . . ." I confirmed, trailing off, only then starting
to realize something strangely familiar about what I was
saying. And then it occurred to me – that six months earlier
I had had a conversation on this same subject with Marty!
And at that time I couldn’t help agreeing with "him" . . .
exactly as I was doing in reverse now with Louis!

I related this perspective to Louis and watched his jaw
drop. Then, as happens so many times with the three of us,
Louis and I landed up doubled-up with laughter.

When we later shared his version of the story with Marty
along with my unsuspecting commiseration with his side of
it, we had the pleasure of watching Marty’s jaw similarly
drop. And after a few good-natured but not-very-gentle
punches on the shoulder, the three of us went out to a
favorite restaurant and laughed the night away.

– – – – – – – – – –

So, my friend, what does this all have to do with Roy
Horn nearly losing his life, dragged on a Las Vegas showroom
floor, his throat in the mouth of a 400-pound White Tiger?

And what does it have to do with why Siegfried and Roy kept
the tiger as a pet, feeling even more love toward it than
before the near-fatal mauling?

And, most importantly, what does it have to do with You
finding forgiveness in Your heart for people in Your life?

       Here’s the twist:

"If his (the tiger’s) intention was to kill me," Roy
explained to TV reporter Maria Schriver (dialogue
paraphrased), "one snap of his jaws, and my neck
would have been broken like a chicken’s."

"I don’t understand," Maria Schriver creased her
brow. "So you don’t believe it was the tiger’s
intention to kill you? Then what was he doing
dragging you across the stage with your throat in
his mouth?"

"If you look closely at the video of the incident,"
Roy began, "you’ll see quite clearly that the tiger
didn’t knock me down. You’ll see that I fell to the
ground."

And to Ms. Schriver’s confused look, he explained:

"I have high blood pressure. I believe at that
moment I had a stroke. I raised Montecore (the
tiger) since he was a cub. And as certain as I know
that I’m still breathing, I know Montecore dragged
me because he knew I was injured. This was
simply his attempt to get me off stage to help."

The fact that I am paraphrasing Roy Horn and Maria
Schriver’s dialogue aside, the essence of his words is
extraordinary.

As hard as it is to believe that a human being dragged by
the throat by a 400 pound tiger can be anything other than
exactly what it appears . . . a wild beast savaging a human
. . . doesn’t what Roy Horn say make sense?

Wouldn’t it seem logical that he would indeed have been dead
in the blink of an eye had that been the tiger’s intent?

That, in however remote a way, it is conceivable that the
tiger was actually – in a tiger’s way – coming to his aid?

That just as my friend Marty’s original perspective that our
friend Louis was being obnoxious by interrupting him in the
middle of his busy practice, so too there was the
possibility (as it turned out) that Louis was indeed acting
out of urgent need rather than blatant inconsideration?

And from Louis’s perspective, wasn’t there always the
possibility that Marty wasn’t knowingly being cold-hearted
in hanging up on him? Rather – as was the case – Marty was
simply being present to the reality of being behind with a
roomful of patients?

And most importantly, isn’t there the possibility that
someone in Your life, my friend, who you perceive as
having "done you wrong" . . . that, as hard as it is to
admit . . . that they might indeed have had no mal-intent
toward you whatsoever?

And, with the shoe on the other foot . . .  in the
inevitability as a member of the human race that there is
someone holding a grudge against You . . . isn’t there
indeed the possibility that given whatever you did . . . and
however it appeared . . . that you indeed had no mal-intent?

There is a certain godly innocence in Roy Horn’s complete
belief in the good intentions of his tiger. Perhaps it’s a
product of spending a life around beloved wild pets, such as
the tiger that is still his best friend.

Grace like this gets me thinking.

Wouldn’t we all be just a little bit better off if we gave
the same benefit of the doubt to the "tigers" in our lives
who otherwise might be our "best friends"?

Yes?

Yours for the greatest wealth,
Michael

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