On Three Kings Day
The Role of Single-Pointed Focus for the Journey
It is with gratitude that I publish this inaugural post for Drafting Winds on Three Kings Day. This is a day of personal significance that connects me to my late dad, his Puerto Rican culture, and a story that has come to symbolize resilience—a theme central to this project.
As legend has it, the Kings traveled a long distance from all around the world to meet the Holy Family. Note that I am not a biblical scholar nor am I even a practicing Christian, but I am a lover of theology, spirituality, and philosophy. For me, this journey that the Kings made symbolizes a single-pointed faith and determination in something. In the context of Christianity, this focus is directed into faith in Jesus as the son of God. However, the power of single-pointed thinking comes up across the spiritual spectrum and is a skill worth honing independent of any specific belief system.
In my experience, single-pointed thinking has allowed me to zoom out and identify how one impression leads to another, creating a path of perception. I look for a light to shine through in the spaces between my thoughts. When my practice is working, this illumination reveals a central underlying concept or emotion that my mind has focused in on. If I wanted to practice this from a Christian perspective, then I would seek to direct this illumination to the teachings of Christ, but I personally work with this method a bit more open ended, drawing from a wide range of philosophies to identify confluence. This fundamental process is particularly helpful when overwhelming feelings of suffering are revealed. Seeing how my emotions shape my thoughts helps me better understand the context of my thinking. It is like standing on the the coast of Cabo Rojo watching the waves carve their mark into the shore line. The coast hardly has a moment before it is hit again with another crash of a wave. If the ocean could pause for a moment, allowing the waves to be individually discernible, then the brutality of their flow would be muted in the context of a natural process. This is no different than the waves of emotion present in the human condition. When I think of the Kings, I think of this state of focus applied to a long journey illuminated by a faith in the workings of the universe.
Since I was a boy, the Kings have visited me on their journey shortly after the turn of each new year. In the story that we are taught, their bags arrive filled with gold, frankincense, and myrrh—symbols of the supreme power of God or Mother Nature. However, I happened to know a fourth wise man and his gifts more typically arrived in the mail engulfed by the scent of his mother island. If you were to ask me what Puerto Rico smelled like when I was growing up I would tell you of old newspapers and coffee. The memory of the packages of music and treats that my dad would receive from the island still makes me smile to this day. I spent a lot of time hanging out with my dad so his tastes had an undeniable influence on the things that I reach for to color my world. It was him who had me posted up in the “World” or “International” section of the music store back before latin music had broken through to the mainstream zeitgeist. Do you recall those sections? Despite the fact that “World” music seems to imply an ethnocentric viewpoint emphasizing “us” against everyone else, this over simplification helped expose me to more sounds outside of what my dad immediately listened to. Music is key to my understanding of the world and is instrumental to my connection to my dad. It is a bridge of sounds that can transport me back into the passenger seat of his Ford Bronco on our way to a soccer game. I do not know about you, but the right rhythm can allow me to travel through space and time. I often find myself using this method to reach for my dad’s hand in times of triumphs and tribulations.
As an adult, I realized that I have always used music as a meditative practice. It became apparent to me while watching a documentary where a skilled practitioner explained the experience of samadhi—a state of deep, ego-free contemplation. This perfectly describes the clarity I feel when dialed into the right frequency of a special song on loop. If I am looking to optimize the conditions around me for peak mental clarity, then music is always involved as a central focus. It is a tool that I use to access a state of single-pointed thinking and it helps me to see behind the veil to what is really going on in my mind. It transports and grounds me at the same time, typically resulting in the conclusion that there is nowhere to go and everything is within my reach here and now.
Obviously, my dad’s gift of music on Three Kings Day is special to me and has grown into a tool I use daily, but I also appreciate the other gifts that the Kings bring us each year. The divine symbolism of gold and frankincense reminds me of the supreme power of the universe—the organized chaos and randomness that we give meaning to based on our learned heuristics. However, it is the duality of myrrh that I find most interesting as of late. Historically, myrrh has been used for medicinal and embalming practices. It has come to have multiple symbolic meanings that span the spectrum from that of suffering and death to renewal. This gift augurs the burden of Christ’s mortal birth with the suffering that it entails and ultimate death that was promised. That is, even the Three Kings knew that suffering was baked into the cake for Christ—just as it was for the rest of humanity. How we work with suffering is an interesting analysis that I hope to take up in future essays.
One defining characteristic of the Puerto Rican people that I have had the opportunity to know in my life is their resilience in the face of suffering. Look no further than the recurring electrical blackouts that the island faces for evidence of this. For me, the story of the Three Kings is a reminder of resilience on a journey that is filled with divine gifts, but remains balanced with unavoidable challenges—reminiscent of a paradise island under threat of storm. I am proud to come from a lineage that handles hardship with wisdom and grace. Despite the fact that my dad has not been with me in physical form for almost five years, I find solace that his energy continues the journey alongside me. I am thankful for the gifts that he shared with me and the tools that I have developed.
For the year 2025, I look to the Kings to inspire a mindset in me to produce writing that will serve my development on the journey ahead.
¡Feliz día de Reyes!