Following Footsteps

“Shoes lovingly placed next to mine.”

Following Footsteps

“Over the river and through the woods!”

Those words of the beloved holiday song seemed to be constantly swimming through my heart as I drove east.  Not to Grandmother’s house, but to my daughter’s house, so we could share the all-important Christmas holiday.  It was a very long drive, but the words seemed to marginalize the ribbon of seemingly never-ending road stretched out as far as my eyes could see, while piercing the horizon of America’s Great Plains.  At the time, I thought the horizon would be the only object to be pierced.  I was wrong!

Yes.  I was wrong.  Yet I don’t want you to think I was wrong in a bad way.  I just didn’t have any way of knowing how a very small gesture was going to touch my heart almost immediately upon my arrival in Arkansas. 

My daughter living in Arkansas has a room over her garage.  That’s where we stay when we visit.  So, right after I knocked on the front door, one of my grandsons, Landon, led the way up the bifurcated staircase, as I carried the first suitcase up.  Then we both settled down on the foot of the bed so we could chat while petting Merlin, our fluffy, now well-traveled Corgi, just before we picked up a leash in preparation for a walk around the neighborhood in delightfully warm, end of December weather conditions.

Upon our return to the house Landon carefully reminded me to “take my shoes off.”  So, I reached down and released the latch between Merlin’s harness and leash.  Then, I stepped out of my shoes, picked them up and climbed the stairs to my room with them in hand.  When in the room I placed them near the side of the bed.  That way I would know exactly where the shoes were when I wanted to use them again.

“Wait!” Landon exclaimed, just after my shoes touched the floor.

Then, in a flash, he wheeled his whole body around, made a dash to the bedroom door and bolted down the stairs.  I stood wondering what I was to wait for.  But, it was a fleeting thought as it was but a moment until he bounded back up the stairs and through the door with a smile on his face.  My eyes quickly traveled down from his beaming face right to his hands, where they rested on two black objects, one held in each hand.  They were his black dress shoes!  He’d gone downstairs to select his black shoes because they were the same color as mine.

I watched as he carefully placed his best shoes next to mine, in a line.

I was touched.  But, he didn’t stop there, this one day!

When I came back up those stairs the next day I found that he’d added another pair of his shoes to the line.  A blue sneaker trimmed in green adorned the other, opposite side of my shoes.  Then, the following day I looked down to find a third pair, red high-tops, added to our colorful string of following-shoes.

“Over the river and through the woods!”

The exact words of the beloved holiday song came swimming back through my mind, piercing my heart, as I looked down upon four pairs of neatly lined-up shoes through moistened eyes.  Not because I was in my Grandmother’s house, though the sight made me think of the many loved ones who walked this same trail of life before me.  I was in my daughter’s home to share the all-important Christmas holiday with family.  And, at this moment the words seemed to graphically display the responsibility you and I have to all those who are now following, and will follow, the path we’re walking now. 

We must always remember the following-shoes around us.  Others are following our footsteps, standing on the trail imprinted by our shoes.

Abundantly Less

“It’s not the daily increase. But the decrease.  Hack away at the unessential.” – Bruce Lee

Abundantly Less

“We’ve taken four loads to “Goodwill” over the past couple of days!” Kilee Johnson said as she walked back into her house, directly upon her return home.

She was telling me of how she and her husband, Garrison, decided to use a couple of days, during their Christmas-time vacation, to share their abundance with others.

“We thought about selling our things on-line, but we decided we’d rather give our surplus to others in our community.” She explained as we talked just inside the door, where she had entered, while continuing to share her philosophy. Of all she told me, perhaps most impressive, was her description of careful, loving preparation.

“I carefully cleaned the blinds, placed all of the hardware in small bags, and attached each bag to its corresponding blind to make sure the new owners have everything they need.”

Her attention to attaching love as a part of her sharing is striking. Such giving is clearly focused on providing increase to others as part of a personalized process of increase through decrease. A principle akin to the process of becoming a “master” of martial arts.  A process Bruce Lee understood very well.

Imaginatively, Bruce Lee described his own life-long pursuit of, counterintuitive increase through decrease in this way, “It’s not the daily increase. But the decrease. Hack away at the unessential.”  

As his admirers know, focusing on the pursuit of perfection in this way allowed Bruce Lee to master a quality of skill beyond the imagination of most.  In other words, the more of the unessential he removed, the more powerful and effective he became.

Kilee and Garrison have shown that this same principle can be effectively applied by each one of us. The more of our abundance we lovingly share with those around us, the more our love and the love of others will grow. And, the more we freely give of our surplus, in the way of love, the whole of our community will become greater than we can imagine.

“We’ve taken four loads to “Goodwill” over the past couple of days!” Kilee Johnson said as she walked back into her house, directly upon her return home.

She was telling me of how she and her husband, Garrison, decided to use a couple of days, during their Christmas-time vacation, to share their abundance with others.

By doing so, they’ve shown you and me how to embark on our own life-long pursuit of increase through decrease.  They’ve shown us how to live life more abundantly by giving our surplus to others.

Do What's Easy

“When I came home I was overcome by the kindness on display!” - Jill Jones

Do What’s Easy

“It’s easy!  Here, I’ll show you how.” Said the artist as I admired his work.

“You don’t understand!”  I said.  “I’m the guy who, when taking basic drawing to fulfill a liberal arts requirement in college, was told by the professor, ‘you’ll do alright in this course, but don’t take any more art.’”

“You can do it!”  The artist replied.

Then he proceeded to talk me through his way of composing an amazing hand-drawn portrait.

“Now you try!”  He said, smiling as he handed me the pencil.

Unfortunately, his smile quickly turned to a look of utter confusion as he watched my unskilled hand work in futility.

“I can see it’s wrong!”  I said while looking at his amazed face.  “I just don’t know what to do to correct it!  I don’t have the same talent as you!  It’s not easy for me!”

That was more than forty years ago, yet the memory came flooding back to me as if ushered in by a tsunami as I heard similar words from my friend Jill Jones.

“They said it was easy for them to do and they hoped it would help us!”  Jill said as she related a cherished memory of her early married years while attending college.

At this time of life, Jill and her husband were both completely absorbed by their class load, not long after they were married.  They were in lessons or studying day and night.  Of course, their small apartment was not as tidy as Jill would have hoped it would be upon the impending arrival of important house guests.

“I just knew my mother-in-law would disapprove of the state of our home!  But there was nothing I could do about it.  I was still on campus, in class, and they had already arrived.  So, as I was about to enter our apartment I steeled myself for criticism.  But it never came!”  Jill said as she recounted the story, as if it had happened yesterday.

Her emotion as palpable.  She stopped to gain strength in her voice so she could continue.

“When I walked into the apartment my mother and father-in-law had cleaned and tidied the whole thing!  But that wasn’t all!  They had also ordered dinner in, because we didn’t have a stitch of food in the fridge or cupboards.” 

She caught her composure again before continuing.

“When I thanked them, they simply said, ‘it was an easy thing for us to do.  We’re so glad we could help you in such a small way!’”

“It’s easy!” Said the artist as I admired his work.

“It’s an easy thing for us to do!”  Jill Jones’ in-laws said as they turned a dark night into a dawning of increased love.

“You can do it!”  The artist replied.

Yes.  You and I can do what’s easy for us, yet challenging for another.

After all, it’s an easy thing for us to do!

Savoring the Miracle

“It’s weird to see how this is coming all together!” – Reed Orcutt

Savoring the Miracle

Gratitude. That’s the word that crossed my mind as I listened to Reed talk to me.

“It’s weird to see how this is coming all together!” Reed Orcutt said as we stood talking about the improbable events that had occurred.  It was so “miraculous” that we both had to just stand there in a sort of fish-like, mouth-gaping manner, sensing that we almost had to catch our breath as part of an effort to take it all in.

Being part of that moment together was important.  It allowed us to look into each other’s eyes so we could silently ask, “Are you experiencing what I’m experiencing?”  And, we each got that confirmation, confidently obtained through an intertwined gaze.  Yet, there was something else at hand.

At that moment of recognition, I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what that little “something” else was.  So, I’ve reflected on it again and again, asking myself, “what was that?”

Pondering that question lead me back to that one word, gratitude.  Yet, this was a different kind of gratitude.  It could perhaps be something akin to a personally heretofore undiscovered classification.  Or, perhaps it’s simply a singularly more effective method of experiencing gratitude.  A process one could call, “Gradational Gratitude Taxonomy?”  

Gradational Gratitude Taxonomy, is a way of systematically studying and experiencing the general principles related to gratitude. And it’s more easily characterized by the phrase “Savoring the Miracle.” Here’s how to do it.

Stop!  Many of us live at such a frenetic pace we don’t stop and think of the good surrounding us.  

My friend Phil once said, “My life has been horribly difficult over the past while!”

I replied, “You mean having to live in a beautiful home and having wonderful food to eat?”

This small conversation between two close friends was the perfect reminder of how important it is to simply stop and put things into proper perspective.

Identify!  Reed and I knew something magical was happening as we worked together.  And, part of truly experiencing the “magic” was to stop and process what was happening.  As soon as we took this step the magic increased in capacity.  Identification opens the door to magnificent expansion.

Harmonize!  Individual musical performance can be life expanding on its own and when you add other voices or instruments it becomes a choir or symphony.  I’m talking about adding dimension and power here.  That’s exactly the result of what Reed and I experienced together.  It was great on an individual basis.  It became even greater as we shared it.

Remember!  Or, savor!  Enjoy it completely!  Have you ever considered incorporating this as part of your character?  Possessing the attribute of savoring all good is life changing. The best things in life, food, drink, happiness and everything I can think of is heightened by simply reminiscing and sharing the process and experience with others.

Gratitude. That’s the word that crossed my mind as I listened to Reed talk to me as we were processing the miracle we were both experiencing.

“It’s weird to see how this is coming all together!” Reed said as we stood talking about the improbable events that had occurred.  It was so “miraculous” that we both had to just stand there in a sort of fish-like, mouth-gaping manner, sensing we were engaged in a process of stopping, identifying and now savoring something extraordinarily special!  

You and I can deepen our gratitude by savoring life’s magic, catch-our-breath-moments.

An Inside Job

“This is my dog, Lola.  He’s a she!” – Landon Johnson

An Inside Job

“Let’s talk about healing” Angela said.  “If you want to satisfy an internal emptiness you must fill it with loving relationships.”

Even though I admire Angela Dodson and have trust in what she attempts to teach me, I have to admit that when she said these words I only heard them in my ears.  And, I’ve learned that the distance between my ears and my heart is vast indeed. That means my ears hear much more than what ends up being accepted into my heart. Allowing positive change to happen within one’s heart isn’t usually an instantaneous process at any age. Yet, it can happen to us at any age, as taught to me by four-year-old Landon Johnson.

“This is my dog, Lola.  He’s a she!” Landon exclaimed to me just three days ago over a video call.

I laughed at the time of his saying it, because his expression, though clear, was a little awkwardly articulated.  Then, as I pondered his words over the ensuing days I began to comprehend what I call “Landon J’s Guide to an Inside Job.”

First, just do what’s in your heart!  You might feel awkward about it, or in your abilities around what you want, but part of being truly genuine is to recognize your own unique approach to living.  Being you is all that is required.

Second. You can’t truly want something you can’t actually see yourself. That means If you only want what another person wants, you’re only seeing a copy. Think about that for a moment. The greatest originals, master pieces, are priceless! Copies are infinitely less valuable because they’re more prolific. If you want to be extraordinary instead of ordinary you have to put faith in yourself, in who you really are.

“This isn’t a joke! It isn’t funny!” Landon said as he heard me snicker after his pronouncement.

In reality I wasn’t thinking “it” was funny. I was thinking of his comments as a cute, priceless moment.  An all too rare of a moment when I could feel that nagging internal emptiness begin to shrink. A moment when I instinctively began to have a glimpse into what Angela was trying to instill into my heart. Yet, Landon’s sharp reply to my laughter ushered in new enlightenment.

Third. If you don’t believe it, why would anyone else believe it? Our belief in who we are, as an individual, is created by how we feel about ourselves. It has nothing to do with what other people think about us. Could it be important for you and me to be able to embrace our little idiosyncrasies? Would beginning to think of our own peculiarities as the personification of our individual charm allow us to have a greater belief in ourselves?

Fourth. Stop thinking about it! A four-year-old generally doesn’t spend a lot of time fretting about what other people think or how they “should” think about things. They live in a state of expression beyond the mind. This is a place of deeper truth. Perhaps it’s because they’re just beginning the process of getting to know themselves, on the inside.  Which leads me to another question. As a person grows in experience, knowledge and association with others is it possible for them to begin to live as only a “shadow” of who they really are?

Finally, it takes persistence to remain true to yourself. Could the world simply be a mirror, reflecting only how we feel about ourselves? Could we, like Landon, be misinterpreting the meaning behind the gentle laughter of others?

“Let’s talk about healing” Angela said.  “If you want to satisfy an internal emptiness you must fill it with loving relationships.”

Even though I admire Angela and have trust in what she attempts to teach me, It took recognition of Landon J’s Guide to an Inside Job, to traverse the vast distance between my ears and my heart. Allowing positive change to happen within one’s heart isn’t usually an instantaneous process at any age. Yet, Landon has shown that it can happen to any one of us, at any age.

Printing a Personal Portrait

“This is a time of more opportunity than ever before!” – Paul Gardner

Printing a Personal Portrait

“It’s the hardest job I’ve ever loved!” Paul’s message said.

Of course, this message piqued my interest, so I quickly accepted his generous invitation to get together to “catch up.”  Our get-together happened just yesterday in a quaint Japanese eatery.

“I was intrigued by what you said to me about your work.”  I said.  “Tell me more about what you’re doing.”

I already knew that Paul’s career has been focused on printing.  His experience is broad.  I also know how creative he is.  Perhaps the most important thing I know about Paul’s career is that he absolutely loves printing and the unique value it has added, and continues to add, to all our lives.  Through it all, he remains unabashedly excited about what he does professionally.  His face still lights up like a runway at an international airport whenever I talk with him about his work.  I’ve found that to be refreshing and a little curious, especially in today’s shifting economic environment.

My drive to our meeting was the perfect illustration of the more common view related to the state of today’s printing business.  While driving I passed several legacy, defunct printing businesses as I progressed toward my engagement with Paul.  Such vacant businesses and their still uninhabited buildings seemed to act as monuments to the printing business’ last gasp; printing as it was once done.  To many, they stand as tombstones, memorializing the end of a business era. They offer a vivid contrast to Paul’s youthful belief in and success in a new printing business era.

“Those who haven’t embraced new, available technology are also the ones who haven’t been able to identify the shifting waters of demand.”  Paul explained to me.  “This is a time of more opportunity than ever before!  I just love it!  There’s just something about holding a high-quality representation of your life or product in your hands.” he explained.  

Then he printed a more personal portrait of his enthusiasm, a picture worth more than all the words we had spoken.

“My father was really into genealogy during his retirement years.  He literally went all over the country, as well as overseas, to collect information that was about to be lost forever.  People would often just say, ‘Here. Please take this and preserve it.’ So, he carefully curated all of it through documentation and photography. The result is a miracle, made possible by new personalized printing technology, and I was able to assist him to create beautiful, bound, custom printed books containing all of his work.  My father is gone now, but I can pull one of those books off the bookcase shelf in my home, whenever I want and it’s like, feeling him in my arms once again!”

With that, all of my questions about Paul’s exuberance for his work had been answered.  His personalized portrait had been imprinted and framed deep within my heart.

“It’s the hardest job I’ve ever loved!” Paul’s message said.

Of course, this message piqued my interest, so I quickly accepted his generous invitation to get together to “catch up.”  Our get-together happened just yesterday in a quaint Japanese eatery.

The food we ate was good.  But the portrait he printed was invaluable food to nourish our hearts, minds and spirits.

“We need to do this more often!” I said as we ended our time together.

After all.  The opportunity to learn a master printer’s secrets and have a new personal portrait printed can never happen often enough!

Losing, And, Finding Yourself

“I’ve lost my keys.  I guess I’ll need to retrace my steps.” – Shavere Marinski

Losing, And, Finding Yourself

“I’ve lost my keys!”  My friend Shav said as we were talking on the phone together.  “It isn’t the first time.”  He continued.

Shav was talking about his car and house keys.  But those aren’t the only kinds of things that can be lost.  Since it was he and I talking and we’re close friends, I also remembered a time not long ago when we were having a very different conversation.

“I’m just at my wit’s end!” Shav explained with his head bowed toward the table we were sitting on.  “I seem to have completely lost myself!  My happiness and purpose have fled.”

Now I was listening to him outline the steps he was going to take to find his keys.  And, I marveled that they were the same steps he took to find meaning in his life again. Discovering that the formula for finding his keys, as well as himself, was the same was a substantial eye-opener. Here is his simple, yet powerful formula.

First, he began by retracing his steps.  Shav spent some quiet, internal time, walking mentally backward, from the exact moment where he first recognized his loss, vividly reviewing each step, one at a time, until he discovered some clues as to where he had last had what he was looking for.

Second, he next physically followed the path he had intellectually mapped out in sequence.  For example, Shav went to his closet and looked in the pockets of the last trousers he’d worn.  When what he’d lost wasn’t there, he simply followed his mental map and took the next step.

Third, as he was following his path he talked with others around him, asking if they’d seen what he’d lost.  One thing of import here is that even though those he approached didn’t know where what he lost was, they were really anxious to help him. After all, loss is universal to all. That meant he increased his capacity to work toward his success immediately when the very first person he spoke with volunteered to be of assistance!

Finally, he dedicated time and action to find what was lost. In other words, he decided to really focus on recovery and he found that engaging in the process itself generated new purpose and passion which grew with each small step he took!  There are a couple of other take-aways here.  

While finding lost keys is important and, in some cases, even imperative, finding keys often pales in comparison to Shav’s struggle to once again find happiness and meaning. In that specific regard here’s what Shav’s experience additionally illuminates.

When you find something, a goal or passion, you’re in love with, you automatically find the strength, passion, the courage, to go up against the constant tests that come at you every day.  When Shav became anxiously engaged in rediscovering joy he was transformed, not completely in an instant, but by gaining strength, step by step.

With each step forward, he discovered that his greatest personal power was hidden behind the thing he feared the very most; that he’d never again he happy!  Confronting this fear head-on allowed him to discover that he never would have awakened the talent secreted deep within himself had he not confronted the abysmal darkness he courageously chose to challenge.  And, it all started as soon as he decided to take even the smallest of all steps forward; retracing his steps back to a point where he remembered having what he once had.  Then, each incremental step increased his strength to continue on.

“I’ve found my keys!”  My friend Shavere Marinski said, just a day or so after our last conversation. But, as he was announcing this good news, I realized it wasn’t the most important thing he’s been able to reconcile recently.  And, I smiled, while enjoying the satisfied feeling in my heart, as I remembered a time, not long ago, when we were celebrating the recovery of his joy.

He had lost, and found himself again.

Slivers Underneath the Skin

“Look what I pulled out of that little red hole.”  Marv Shafer

Slivers Underneath the Skin

I heard that awakening ding.  You know the tone.  The one that alerts us that we’ve received a text message on our smart phones.  So, I looked down at the screen to see a most unusual, interesting photo.

 

I would never have known what it was without the message that went along with it.

“Look what I pulled out of that little red hole!” It was from Marv Shafer.

Marv is my neighbor, friend, and perhaps the bravest person I’ve ever known.  If you don’t know Marv you may be asking why I think he’s so brave.  Well, I’ll tell you.

About four years ago Marv was working in his field on his tractor, mowing weeds, when he hit something.  So, he climbed off the tractor and started toward his mowing deck.  When he approached the connection between the power-take-off and the deck, his pant leg was grabbed by the spinning machinery. So was Marv’s leg!

I looked back at the photo of Marv’s leg, the part that’s left, now mostly healed.

“It’s been in there hurting like a big sliver for 16 months.”  I continued reading below the photo.

“Wow!”  I replied.  I’m so glad you finally got it out.  What a blessing!  Keep removing the festers from inside and you’ll be fully healed in no time.”

Festers inside.  I thought to myself, realizing that all people, everyone one of us, have non-surgical festers we’ve been suffering from.  Many of these emotional, mental and spiritual festers are very small, just like that small piece of suture rejected by Marv’s body.  Yet, they can cause a tremendous amount of pain as they hide below our skin.

How can you and I similarly remove our own internal festering slivers?  Well, If I had the answers to that question I’d be the happiest person on the planet.  But I don’t, so here are some four thoughts to ponder.

First, recognize that many of the slivers you and I are harboring were delivered to us accidentally.  Holding on to the conviction that most people are good hearted and that forgiving others creates an opportunity for others to also forgive us of our unintentional wrongs is an essential cornerstone of hope.

Second, become aware of how your own faults are acting as a sliver delivery catalyst. To help myself with this I’ve created a little saying.  “I’m solving my mouth problem!”  This little saying helps to remind me that I just need to keep my mouth shut more often than not.  

Third. Understand the concept of “I’m a work in progress.”  That means we all need to recognize that working slivers out and stopping our accidental delivery of slivers takes time.  Often a lot more time that the 16 months it took for Marv’s body to spit out that suture.

Finally, know that time and concentrated work on our own inside-out is worth the effort.  Because the reward is the immediate removal of pain.  Many times, it is a seemingly instant removal of a tormenting pain that’s been there for years and years.

“After 2 days no pain!” Marv’s message continued.

Oh, and one more thing.  When you and I next hear that awakening ding.  You know the tone.  The one that alerts us that we’ve received a text message on our smart phones. Let it be an additional reminder that we, you and I, are dealing with lots of slivers under our skin.  And, if we’ll remember that most of these festering slivers have been delivered to us accidentally, become more aware of our own faults, understand that we’re all a work in progress and that time & concentrated work on our own inside-out can spit out even the smallest, most painful slivers we can become free from happiness stealing pain.

Each step takes bravery. But, pulling those little slivers from underneath our skin is worth it.  Be Brave.

Intentional Grounding

An intentionally grounded forward pass.

Intentional Grounding

“You’re moving forward in an intentional way!”  Angela Dodson’s voice said through my telephone.

I have to admit that at the moment Angela’s words penetrated my ears my mental focus inadvertently shifted from the important conversation we were engaged in.  Perhaps it was because it was a crisp fall Monday and I’d watched two local college teams play football games over the two preceding days.  So, naturally the movie within my mind recalled one pass in particular.  I guess if the truth be told, it wasn’t really a pass.

The quarterback was being chased by Goliath-like, mountain-sized men as his eyes scanned the field for an opportunity to pass the football to an open receiver.  I’m also sure his heart was screaming, “I’m going to die if I don’t get rid of this ball!”  So, just before he was crushed into something akin to Powerade Mixed Berry Sports Drink he purposefully threw the ball to a location off the field where no one could catch it.  And, a yellow hankie was thrown instantly thereafter!

“Intentional Grounding!  Offense.  Ten-yard penalty.”  Were the words that echoed throughout the virtually empty stadium.

“When you intentionally move forward in the direction you want to go, it makes all the difference in your ability to achieve success!”  Angela’s voice confirmed as she snapped my attention back to her, during my coaching session.

Angela has made a huge difference in the way I live my life, as well as in how I approach my business.  Change that originated as a result of the nuts & bolts details she’s imparted to me through personalized coaching.  Those results are the reason we’ve worked together for a few years now.  I’ve learned a lot from her and could never pass on every gain to you in a concise way.  There’s just too much information and growth for a “Cliff Notes” shortcut to yield beneficial use.  But, of all she’s given me, this once concept of living intentionally is perhaps the most beneficial; constructive through specific combination.

Living life in an intentional way is very different from just letting life serendipitously happen.  That’s not to say it eliminates the pleasure and joy of finding the accidental, fortuitous happenstance in living.  All of that surprise will still add delight for you.  Like the surprise I felt this football season when that same intentional grounding quarterback debuted a bunch of newly developed skills 

Over the off season his desire to transform himself drove him to drive about 10 hours, each way, every other week or so to work with one particular quarterback coach. True desire leads to true intentional living.  In his case, the burning desire to move past being a good player to transforming into a truly great player caused him to add new skills, such as mastering additional throwing angles, and other new dimensions to his overall game.

“You’re really on your way now!” Angela said to me right after I had outlined how my own desire had prompted me to shape and then begin to take specific steps toward increased success.  

“You’ve become grounded with intention!  It will make all the difference for you.”  She continued.

I have to admit that at the moment Angela’s words penetrated my ears my mental focus inadvertently shifted from the important conversation we were engaged in.  Perhaps it was because it was a crisp fall Monday and I’d watched two local college teams play football games over the two preceding days.  So, naturally the movie within my mind recalled one pass in particular.  I guess if the truth be told, it wasn’t really a pass.  It was intentional grounding.

And, now you and I have a little more understanding of how being grounded with intention, compelled and shaped by desire will allow anyone to add new skills, dimension and greater success to playing in the biggest game, called life.

Mournful Mooing

Being Eighty-Fived?

Mournful Mooing

“Why in the world are you just standing there?”  I asked the huge Angus Steer, Eighty-Five.  “That mournful mooing isn’t doing you any good at all!”

Of course, I already knew why he was acting this way.  It was separation time.  The Dexter breed were standing across the fence from him eating.  He was standing next to the bull feeder, where he is normally fed.  He’d watched as I threw hay over the fence to the reddish-brown clan of cows he usually shared food with.  But, if Eighty-Five is one thing, he is stubborn.

After feeding the Dexters, with the Angus looking-on, I loaded up the wheelbarrow with more hay and walked right toward the bull feeder and the Three-Big-Boys, so they’d see their food and follow me to the paddock.  I walked slowly, using an encouraging, “come-on, follow me” speech.  The sound of heavy, lugging footsteps fell in behind me, so I didn’t bother to look back until I reached the paddock and ejected the carried-dinner for the lumbering, hungry steers.  But, only two had come.

“That’s odd!”  I exclaimed, as if speaking to an unseen friend.

With wheelbarrow in hand and the missing steer in sight I left the paddock and walked forward toward him.  His feet were planted firmly in the ground.  His eyes were focused, gazing, coveting the forage being eaten by his adopted bovine clan.  Saliva was streaming from all corners of his mouth and it dripped toward the ground as he verbalized his displeasure of self-professed injustice.

“You realize all you need to do is to turn a little to your right and walk?  Right?”  I chided with a chuckle.  “Your behavior is pathetic!  Your decision to just stand here, looking over that fence, while complaining in full bellyache tone doesn’t accomplish anything.  When you decide to take even one step toward earning what you want, your situation will change completely!”

Then, I took a step forward, away from him, to leave, while continuing to hear his self-pronouncing song of injustice.  For one brief moment a thought of intervention entered my mind, because of his repeated call.  I paused.

“He’ll figure it out!”  I huffed, while walking on.

He stood.  I left.

I left again in the morning.  This time from my home. The cool wet grass was soft under foot as I walked through the field, past the food-anticipating Dexter, toward the bull feeder where Eighty-Five had been standing the night before.  A smile spread across my face when he wasn’t there.

“Why in the world are you just standing there?”  I had asked the huge Angus Steer, Eighty-Five, the night before.  “That mournful mooing isn’t doing you any good at all!”

Of course, I already knew why he was acting this way.  It was separation time.  The Dexter breed were standing across the fence from him, eating.  He was standing next to the bull feeder, where he is normally fed.  He’d watched as I threw hay over the fence to the reddish-brown clan of cows.  But, if Eighty-Five is one thing, he is stubborn.

“I can be just as stubborn as he had been at times!”  I said to myself as I filled the wheelbarrow with hay for the Three-Big-Boys standing, waiting for me in the paddock.  “I just hope I can always be smart enough not to Eighty-Five myself in the future!”  

Now, or in our future, there will likely be a time when our eyes, yours or mine, are focused, gazing, coveting the things or accomplishments of our neighbor. Yes, we may even have saliva, born of personal desire, streaming from all corners of our mouth as we verbalize our displeasure of self-proclaimed injustice in mournful manner.  But, we should never Eighty-Five ourselves!  

After all, one hulking steer has shown us that we simply need to turn to our right, or left, and walk, forward to our desired accomplishment or destination and work.  When you and I decide to take even one step toward earning what we want, we change our present situation completely!

Living Off a Leash

“The most interesting things happen just on the other side of your comfort zone.” 

- Michael Hyatt

Living Off a Leash

“Where’s my leash?” Three-year-old Annie called out.

You see, Annie was such an energetic child that we often could not keep track of her in public settings.  Have you ever been shopping for kids’ clothes in a large clothing store, with three children, while one of the three is singularly playing “hide-and-seek,” by secreting herself in the middle of seemingly endless, giant round-clothing-racks, packed with textiles on hangers?  It is a frightening experience for a parent!  Such was the genesis of Annie’s “life on a leash.”

I anticipated that Annie’s living on a leash would make my parental responsibilities less harrowing.  What I didn’t foresee was an unintended “comfort quotient” for my daughter.  Being tethered during complex and challenging moments became akin to being wrapped in a comfort blanket.  I didn’t realize that until I heard her “where’s my leash” question as we were preparing to leave our house one day.

More than twenty years later, on a day not more than one week ago, during a virtual meeting with a Client, the discussion of alternative paths forward for her business became paramount.  As with almost all real estate decisions the conversation was centering on location and she had become intractable. At the same time, I knew she was counting on me to give her viable growth solutions.  Solutions that could only be discovered by cutting the tether of current comforts.  She, like little Annie, had to decide to remove her own leash.

 

“Are you living on a leash?”  I carefully asked.  “What if you cut the fetter currently binding you to your existing location?  What if there was something better, or bigger waiting for you?  Would you like to have the chance to find out?”

Then I held my breath and stopped!

“Are YOU living on a leash?”  I asked myself, hanging on to an eternity of silence, while waiting for her reply. Realizing that everyone continually experiences both seen and unseen leashes throughout life.  And, sometimes obtaining more peace, more happiness, more love, and more fulfillment are only available to us by cutting a string currently binding our options and growth.

Michael Hyatt once taught me that, “The most interesting things happen just on the other side of your comfort zone.”

This meeting’s continuing silence allowed me to once again hear Annie’s young voice call out, “Where’s my leash?”

You see, Annie was such an energetic child that I often could not keep track of her in public settings.  Have you ever been shopping for kids’ clothes in a large clothing store, with three children, while one of the three is singularly playing “hide-and-seek,” by secreting herself in the middle of seemingly endless, giant round-clothing-racks, packed with textiles on hangers?  It is a frightening experience for a parent!  Such was the genesis of Annie’s “life on a leash.”

“I can begin living my life off a leash!” My Client announced, ending the eternity of silence.

Now the question hiding in the white space between these lines is, will you and I cut our own leashes and begin to experience the interesting things that will happen for us on the other side of our comfort zones?

Skeleton Dog

A bed of hay for a sign of an early Halloween

Skeleton Dog

“It must be getting close to Halloween!” I said, muttering to myself as I walked through sort of a grim looking, yet still green grass on an early October, darkened morning.  

On such mornings there isn’t usually much to see anyway.  Yet, I didn’t have much of a visual option, as the moon wasn’t shining brightly and the sun didn’t seem to be very interested in getting up, out of the eastern sky yet.  It was so early that there wasn’t really even any shine being proffered from lights gleaming through windows from surrounding homes.  I could see well enough though.

At least I thought I could see well enough, right up to the time when I wished I could see very clearly!  So, of course, that’s when I saw something!  Well, sort of saw something.

My big red bull feeder was just up in front of me.  I could see its bright, yet lack of light diminished color.  I saw its outline, but I couldn’t make out the identity of a shape curled up inside of that round, curving, sustenance-offering-sculpture.  There was something there!  I just couldn’t tell what it was.

“It’s way too much like spooky Halloween!”  I instinctively thought, as shivers of fear began to convulse throughout my body.

There was a definite, in the wrong place, shape there!  It was an unrecognizable shape, yet providentially, the color was all wrong for the one thing I would normally, well, always want to avoid at all times on Salty Shores Ranch. Luckily, it wasn’t black as night with a white stripe.  Not a skunk! 

Whew!

Gray was its color.  Which gave me courage to pursue a closer look.

I apprehensively edged a little closer.  After all, I’m a careful sort.  Just ask my daughters!  Because they’ll tell you I’m the guy who abandoned them.  Yes!  I’m the guy who fled, leaving my little girls to fend for themselves, when one of those giant, terrifying Egyptian upright-walking dog type creatures, who I thought was a statue, reached out and touched my shoulder while we were “enjoying” a walk though “The Mummy” experience at Universal Studios.  Yep!  I have proven I know when to run!

It was feeling very much like Halloween, so I was ready to run.  To scram! If necessary.

Its head lifted!  I saw it move.  Its angular body followed, slinking off its luxurious bed of uneaten fodder toward the edge of the hay’s red metal halo. 

“Lucky for me!”  

This thing was more afraid of me than I was of it.

I watched its front legs rise above the feeder’s rim. Next, its rear legs thrust the rest of its body up and over the rim.  I had just observed the thinnest dog I’d ever seen duck under a fence rail and trot its bones away, while blending perfectly into barely morning gray.

“A skeleton dog!  It is surely close to Halloween!”  I said, muttering to myself as I walked through a sort of grim looking corral on an early October, darkened morning.  

On such mornings there isn’t usually much to see anyway.  Yet, I on this morning, I was frightened by a most unusual, even spooky sight, as the moon wasn’t shining brightly and the sun didn’t seem to be very interested in getting up, out of the eastern sky yet.  It was so early that there wasn’t really even any shine being proffered from lights gleaming through windows from surrounding homes.  I could see well enough though.

It was a sign of an early Halloween for sure.  Because I had just seen a Skeleton Dog!

Yet, this eerie sight tugged at my heart as I watched him go.  I could still see the imprint of his body pressed into the hay and I felt grateful to have unintentionally offered him some comfort and rest.  Because, even though I’m often afraid to offer help to one in need, it’s always the right thing to do.

Noses on both sides of the fence.

Nosey Neighbors

A cool blue sky was brightening with every step toward the thirsty watering trough near the fence, on the east side of Salty Shores Ranch.  It was bright enough to be able to see that the water needed to be freshened from a night of moistening noses, black noses.  Yes, some of the of the noses belong to me.  Those specific noses are attached to huge Black Angus steers as well as to my smaller, three-quarter size Dexter, heifer noses.  And, I knew there had been other noses in that water as well.

I looked across the fence toward the orchard to the south, across the tall, dried strands of rye grass.  That’s where I spied long, spike-like ears rising just above the tassels of fancy grass seeds atop swaying stalks.  In between those alert ears, just a little lower, barely visible through the dim light were some of those other noses.  They belonged to bedded down mule deer in repose, though still watchful, after a night of browsing and quenching their thirst in the filling container sitting at the end of my toes.  The sight teased a smile from my sleepy face while coaxing my eyes to do a little more looking.

I looked to my left and saw three more noses pointed in my direction.  One nose was attached to a black-as-night, Alpaca.  Another to a shaggy pygmy goat.  And, there was one more nose.  It was one attached to a larger, mid-sized goat, covered in white, punctuated with brown, mud-looking splotches.  They stood in a perfect straight, in line with the fence, rubbernecking.

“Good morning!”  I brightly called out, with my right hand grasping the red rubber hose spewing additional cool water rushing to fill its temporary reservoir.

Morning rays from the altitude-gaining sun scratched the topping rocks, trees and dirt crowning the Oquirrh Mountain Range. It’s strands of gold began to illuminate the whole scene stretched out before me.  It delivered a courageous message.

My rays shine freely on all!

The cool blue sky was brightening and warming there, at the now thirst-quenched watering trough near the fence on the east side of Salty Shores Ranch.  The freshened water was again prepared for another day of moistening noses, similar black noses.  Yes, some of the of the noses belong to me.  Those specific noses are attached to huge Black Angus steers as well as to my smaller, three-quarter size Dexter, heifers.  And, I had just surveyed many other noses that had been and would be again dipping into this refreshing water.

I looked again, across the fence toward the orchard to the south, across the tall, dried strands of rye grass, where I still spied long, spike-like ears rising just above the tassels of fancy grass seeds atop swaying stalks.  In between those alert ears, just a little lower, barely visible through brightening light were some of those other, noses in common.  They belonged to bedded down mule deer as they relaxed, though still watchful, after a night of browsing and quenching their thirst in the filled container sitting at the end of my toes.  The sight teased a smile from my sleepy face while coaxing my eyes to understand the sun’s fundamental message.

There is plenty for all.  Those already living here.  Those who are just moving in.  Even those who are very different breed.

We all have one important thing in common.  Noses.

Welcome all.  Let your smile shine freely and brightly just as our common sun does.

Be a nosey neighbor.

Unexpected Places

Allow your answers to come from surprising sources.

Unexpected Places

“During my teen years, I struggled with abandonment issues and feelings of rejection. After several years of searching for love in all the wrong places, I remember crying myself to sleep one Saturday night when I was in my early 20s. When I woke up on Sunday morning, I still felt an overwhelming sense of emptiness and loneliness.” Tonya said.

The next morning, for some unknown reason, she got up and dressed so she could go for a walk.  While walking, she was about to pass a small building just a few blocks from her home when she felt an unmistakable “tugging” on her heart.

“I didn’t understand why I felt I had to stop there.” She said, as Tonya Moore was teaching me about the principle of ‘Unexpected Places and Sources.’”  

Her advice?  “If it feels like something is tugging at your heart, DO NOT WAIT.”

Even though this life changing experience happened to Tonya many years ago she says, “It still gives me chills to this day. The people I met in that unexpected place have become one of the most powerful sources of warmth and love in my life! They were a group of complete strangers that eventually became like my family. I had never known such great love!”

Here are the other key points Tonya taught me about this important, potentially life-changing principle.

First, let unexpected discovery become your passion. “If you’ll simply change your point of view slightly and begin to anticipate the wonder of surprise all of the time, you’ll soon begin to experience your life as one miracle after another.”

Second, become the “unexpected” for others.  Tonya gifts her own passion by being an influencer to help others identify their purpose and become the best version of themselves. It’s not as if she views herself as a “life coach,” she just gets joy from sharing her knowledge, skills, and talents with others so they can succeed more quickly.

Third, believe in the power of expansion.  “I purposefully put myself in a position to help other people I’ve never met and who may never have the capacity to return the favor.  Participating in selfless acts of love has changed me and filled my life with love. It’s replaced the feelings of overwhelming emptiness and loneliness I felt on that one, fateful Saturday night.” She explained.

Finally, allow yourself to use your hands and feet to move you in unexpected ways.  Life makes sure that every single one of us will have at least one dark Saturday night like Tonya experienced.  The question is whether you and I will embrace the unexpected when it surprises us, let unexpected discovery become our passion, become the unexpected for others and believe in the power of expanding love.  If we will, then you and I will begin to experience our lives as one miracle after another!

The yellow radio was a constant my mother’s home.

One Particular Yellow Radio

My mother was never feeling alone, she had a yellow radio.  As I was growing up and long after I left her home to make my way in the world, she always had one particular radio, one with a yellow plastic case on her kitchen counter.  I would hear her favorite radio station constantly playing in the background as a child.  Of course, it was music I hated.  It was an “Oldies” format.

Even when her favorite oldies station had folded and newer, much more contemporary music had become the new oldies, the one constant inside her home was that aging yellow radio, still playing, still keeping my mother company.

On one occasion, a few years ago, when I made the hour-long drive to visit my mother, to give her some human company, I knocked on her front door hoping she would respond, because I had made the drive without an appointment.  After the knock, I stood on her porch and waited.  There was no answer.  But, I could hear music coming from that yellow radio.  So, I walked around the back to see if my mother was there, not able to hear my knock.  Further inspection allowed me to discover that her car was not in the garage.  I decided to wait and listen to music from the yellow radio while sitting on the porch.  It kept me company during the fleeting minutes of my expectation.

In a few minutes my anticipation was introduced to satisfaction when my mother’s white Oldsmobile sedan cruised into the drive.  And, I was met with a smile and wave from the white-haired grandmother of my children sitting behind its steering wheel.

“You leave your radio on when you’re not home?”  I asked as she came up the sidewalk to her front door.

“It’s sound welcomes me home.”  She responded warmly, with a shy grin.

Then the time came when the yellow radio stopped welcoming my mother home.  And, all of her belongings were carefully and lovingly being removed from the house she would never return to.  My siblings thoughtfully asked me what of her belongings I would like to have.

“Only the yellow radio.”  I said with certainty, because I wanted it to constantly welcome me home, just as it did my mother for more than fifty years.

And, now that I’m all grown up, long after my mother had left her home for the last time to make her way out of this world, I was hoping it would do the same for me.  So, this particular radio, the one with a yellow plastic case, that was constantly playing on my mother’s kitchen counter, is sitting in my home.  As a child I heard her favorite radio station constantly playing in life’s background.  Of course, it was music I hated.  It was an “Oldies” format.  Now, these many years later, I can only wish to once again see my mother standing in her kitchen, by her yellow radio, listening to those same old songs, the ones she really loved.

Today those old songs and the yellow radio are two constants in an ever changing, uncertain world.  They help me fend off the loneliness of not seeing my mother anymore. They keep me company, just like they did my mother, and they’re helping me stay focused on things of true value; important things, such as being a loving parent. 

A Dogs' Tail

“There was an amazing connection between us from the moment we laid eyes on each other!” – Irving Rivera

 

A Dog’s Tail

 

“How did you know which dog to bring home when you went to the animal shelter looking for one?” I, as a tween, said to my Uncle Jerry.

 

Jerry Lloyd spent most of his life in Montpelier, Idaho, a small town of about two-thousand-six-hundred people.  At least that’s what the size was a few years ago. I haven’t been back since my Uncle Jerry passed away.  His passing went unnoticed by most, because as measured by many standards he would be considered as simple, insignificant.  But, to me he was a giant, a man of expansive love and experience.

 

“I just look until I find the one who knows me.”  Jerry replied with his seemingly, unending, characteristic twinkling eyes.

 

That memory is perhaps the most impressive tale about dogs my uncle taught me. It’s vivid memory seems to have been branded into my soul.  I can still see the vision of us talking in one of his hay fields under a deep blue canopy, punctuated with the bright yellow sun, not long after the alfalfa had been cut.  We were standing near the rear of his mud splattered, white flatbed truck, admiring his newly adopted dog as he stood as a sentinel, his feet almost above our shoulders, since he was on the truck’s elevated flat. I was questioning Jerry, with wonder, about the unmistakable and unbreakable bond he and his furry mate shared.  I’ve rarely seen anything like it, up to now.

 

A few days ago, I was visiting my friend Irving Rivera, a U.S. Military Veteran, as he recounted his own similar tale, while sitting across his kitchen table from me.

 

“I was struggling with PTSD from my service in Afghanistan.  I’d been consulting with my doctor at the VA in Salt Lake City.  My Doc said, ‘This isn’t something that’ll ever go away, I’m sorry to say!’”  Irving said, while we both looked through the kitchen slider, onto his deck, at his smiling, mouth-full-of-large-red-ball, deep brown chocolate Labrador.

 

“We were driving through Idaho where we stopped at a store. There was a guy there selling puppies from his dog’s recent litter. When I saw him (his head nodding toward the glass framed pup) I knew him!  Our eyes locked!”

 

Irving told me that he didn’t have the money necessary to purchase his soul-mate dog at the time, so he asked the man to hold the dog for him until he could go home, make a little more money and come back. The man agreed!

 

After two weeks Irving had earned and saved the money.  He made the long drive back to Idaho where he met the patient man at his home, paid him the money, collected his dog and drove to the very house we were sitting in.

 

“He rested his head on my leg the whole drive home!”  Irving choked out with emotion.  “He can sense my PSD anxiety attacks coming on!  He instinctively comes over and licks my hands to comfort me.  He goes to bed with me every night and waits until I fall asleep before he inspects the house.  Then he stays up all night watching to make sure I’m all right, protected.  In the morning he senses when I’m about to awaken and comes in to be there when I get up.  I would never leave him.  I love that dog!”

 

“How did you know which dog to bring home when you went to the animal shelter looking for one?” I remembered myself saying, as a tween, to my Uncle Jerry.

 

Irving Rivera has spent the most recent few years of his life in a small town in Tooele Valley, Utah.  At least, that’s where he’s been living after serving you and me in Afghanistan, while with the U.S. Military. His life here has been unnoticed by most, because as measured by many standards he would be considered as simple, insignificant.  But, to me he’s a giant, a man of expansive love and experience.

 

“I just look until I find the one who knows me.”  Jerry once said with his seemingly, unending, characteristic twinkling eyes.

 

“We were driving through Idaho where we stopped at a store. There was a guy there with a litter of puppies. When I saw him (his head nodding toward the glass framed pup) I knew him!  Our eyes locked! There was an amazing connection between us from the moment we laid eyes on each other!”  Irving said, as if looking at me through Jerry’s seemingly, unending, characteristic twinkling eyes.

 

I looked out of Irving’s kitchen door.  His dog’s chocolate tail had been keeping beat with the words of his pal.  It punctuated Jerry and Irving’s story, a dog’s tail.

The Three Legs of FulPhillment

“My focus is on creating a place where my loved ones will want to gather together for support and joy.” – Phil Grimm

 

The Three Legs of FulPhillment

 

A drive on the winding, country roads in the foothills of Arkansas’ Ozark Mountains always offers twists and turns of seemingly never-ending variety.  The narrow, woods-lined roads offer changing views of cattle laden fields, dotted with huge round-grass-woven bales of hay, broad streaming rivers and lakes that beckon all passers to seek relief in their warm soothing waters.  Yet, there was a twist I wasn’t expecting on one late August summer day.  A telephone call from an Arizona area code.

 

I recognized the number immediately.  It was my friend Phil Grimm.

 

“Hey Lynn.”  Phil said as soon as I touched the handsfree answer button on my car.  “I was just calling to spend some time talking with you.  We don’t take the time to just talk enough!”

 

The nose of my car headed down another slope toward a dancing brook.  And, of course, the cellular signal on my phone followed it right on down to zero bars.  My phone dropped the call.

 

“I’m sorry!” I said to Phil as soon as he answered my return call.  “I’m in Arkansas and drove down into a hollow.”

 

“I completely understand!”  Phil responded.  “I’m on my way back home from Beaver Lake right now!  We’ve been searching for a new lake house so we can spend more time with our family.”

 

Three days later Phil and I had lunch together where we huddled in a corner so we could do some additional exploring.  That’s when I learned more about what I call “The Three Legs of FulPhillment” as taught to me by Phil himself.

 

First.  Follow your own path.  “I was caught up in chasing what society was telling me I should do to find happiness.”  Phil said, with a tortilla chip in his hand.  “What I discovered over years of living that way was that I’d become a person I no longer recognized!  I wasn’t being true to who I really am, what I felt inside, could offer to the world and what makes me happy.”

 

He went on to explain that he as a result of this realization he has systematically begun a step by step process to correct his own path.  He took the time to discover what was important to him, then he moved forward to simplify his life.

 

Second. Simplify through selection.  “While self-examining, I discovered I was involved in too many good things.”  Phil explained. “It’s taken some time, but I’m clear about what I want to focus on now.  Now I’m letting everything else fall by the wayside.  I’ve learned to say no, while gathering the important!”

 

Third.  Gather.  “I’m looking for a place where I can gather my loved ones.  I want it to be a place where they want to come.  A place where we can all find refuge with each other.  We’re going to create a place of belonging, fun and healing. My focus is on creating a place where my loved ones will want to join together for support and joy.” He continued painting a verbally vivid picture, as he spent the rest of our extra-long lunch talking through every detail of his new self-reclamation adventure.

 

When we walked out of the restaurant door together to go our separate ways, I felt a new sense of purpose.  Our conversation had been just like driving on the winding, country roads in the foothills of Arkansas’ Ozark Mountains.  It offered twists and turns of seemingly never-ending variety.  The narrow, hopes-and-dreams-lined conversational roads offered changing views of how to find one’s own genuine path, dotted with huge round-hope-woven bales of how to simplify by selection, broad streaming rivers and lakes that beckon all loved ones to seek relief in their warm soothing waters of gathering for refuge, a sense of belonging, fun and healing. 

 

Yet, there was one twist I wasn’t expecting, on combined late August and early September summer days.  Being thoroughly inspired by the Three Legs of FulPhillment.

David's Speech

“It’s not like you get up every day and put a flak jacket and helmet on, as if you’re needing to go into battle.”  - David Jardine

 

David’s Speech

 

“When people come to me.”  David stopped briefly and then continued.  “They have almost always been hurt.  Most often, they feel as if they’ve been attacked.”

 

David Jardine is my friend and an attorney by trade.  So, when he talks about the pain he’s seen in others, he knows of what he speaks.

 

“One of the first things people often say to me is, ‘I should have been more prepared.  I should have seen it coming!’  That’s when I give them my speech about living happily in the face of what is often the most painful experience of their lives.”

 

I was enthusiastically listening before, but I really perked up to hear what was about to float from his mouth next.  After all, I know very few people who haven’t gone through some type of difficulty; such as a divorce, the loss of a child, a dishonest business partner, or continuous problems with a testing, selfish, obstinate neighbor.  Perhaps that’s why I sat a little forward in my seat and opened my ears so wide perhaps a 747 Dreamliner would be able to fly right on through my head.

 

“It’s not like you get up every day and put a flak jacket and helmet on, as if you’re needing to go into battle.” David continued.  “At least I hope you don’t!  I’d rather live my life believing that most people are good and will do the right thing.  That way I can live happily, looking for and experiencing the good in others!  Yes.  There will likely be a time when someone hurts you, but those times will be the exception, as long as you’re spending your time actively looking for good in those around you.”

 

David sat back in his chair and sort of stared off into space.  At least it appeared to be a contemplative, mental slip right into his own private, thinking space.  Then, he lifted his arms and stretched them up over his head, so he could interlace his fingers, while resting them gently behind his head.  It was a classic signal from someone who has nothing to hide and everything to give.

 

“Most people think I fight for a living.  Maybe they’re right.  But, I don’t see it that way.  I see myself as looking for the best solution.  Working to find what’s best for my client.  And, that usually creates the best possible outcome for all of the parties involved!”

 

His hands disengaged from their interdigitation. Then his arms seemed to glide through the air in a smooth, calm fashion as his chair moved his whole body back in to a perfect, upright position.  A smile spread across his face.  It was an affable look; not the look of someone who fought for a living.

 

My face and gaze had been firmly fixed toward the front.  You can tell a lot about a person and what they’re saying, just by looking at their face, watching their gestures, and feeling the energy radiating from them.  As I saw David’s comfortable and genial manner, I could feel the day’s strain melting away.  After all, when I came to our meeting my opening words were, as he predicted, “I should have been more prepared.  I should have seen it coming!”  And, perhaps I should have.

 

Yet, there was David, a good man, sitting in front of me, giving me good advice as a friend.  His guidance, “David’s Speech,” opened the way for me to, once again, move forward, looking for the best possible solution while anticipating good, now and in the future.

 

You and I can live happily, even in the face of what may be one of the most painful experiences of our lives.

Remembering the Right Mix

“I learned that anyone could die quickly, without notice, for no reason.” - Phil Weed

 

Remembering the Right Mix

 

“I could only remember what had happened for the past three months!  I could only remember the people I had come into contact with over the previous three months!” Phil said, as we were sitting in Ditta Caffee.  I suspect that upon seeing us there, some thought we were simply there to eat their delicious, hand-made, fresh bagels and enjoy the hot & cold beverages of our choice in good company.  And, we were!  After all, they have the best bagels I’ve eaten outside of my old local, Leo’s, in downtown Manhattan.  And, that’s saying something about how good those bagels are!

 

Ditta Caffee is also a good, no, a great place to socialize with friends and cross pollinate with potential new friends.  That’s why Phil Weed and I were there.  It seems that friendships become something more substantial when a little breaking of bread takes place with another person.  Maybe that’s because it connects us through a taproot of commonality.  Everyone needs to eat!  So, why not do it together?  Food and people are a great combination of ingredients and I was hoping to discover Phil’s unique blend of staple of ingredients.

 

My friend Phil seems to have his own proprietary mixture of great living ingredients and I was anxiously awaiting for him to share his source.  And, I was in luck!

 

“I was in a skiing accident.”  He shared.  “I could not have imagined what it would be like to lose everything!  I don’t mean only the physical things.  I mean everything; the relationships, memories, a direction in and meaning for life!”

 

To say the least, this experience changed Phil right down to his fundamental foundation.  And, it gave him the chance to develop a strong moral compass in a way he never imagined.  This experience is why he began to focus on building lasting personal relationships with a healthy dose of compassion.  When he had fully recovered I’m sure he thought he was finished with that kind of life shaking growth.  But, it wasn’t to be!

 

A few years later, Phil and his wife lost one of their children in a sudden and unexpected way.  “It was such a dramatic experience that I quickly got to the point of not feeling as if I had anything else to give to anyone.  I learned that anyone could die quickly, without notice, for no reason!”

 

Looking at Phil across the table, through an outsider’s lens, as he recounted this experience, it was revealing to see how it guided him toward an intimate understanding of, as well as to embrace the reality of how fragile life is.  And, embrace it he has!  The first question I hear him ask others is, “What is it you need?  How can I help you?”  Then, he, in his own gentle way invites people into his circle so they can feel his tender embrace.

 

I know!  I have felt his embrace, even though he didn’t really know me when he reached out. He did so just so he could connect, support and heal.  He lives this special brand of compassion with others regularly, even if he has never met them and in many cases never will.  I’m sure he has forgotten countless good deeds of his employ, simply because he never tires of looking for and performing more acts of kindness.

 

“I could only remember what had happened for the past three months!  I could only remember the people I had come into contact with over the previous three months!” Phil said, as we were communing in Ditta Caffee.  I suspect that upon seeing us there, some thought we were simply there to eat their delicious, hand-made, fresh bagels and enjoy the hot & cold beverages of our choice in good company.  And, we were!  After all, they have the best bagels I’ve eaten outside of my old local, Leo’s, in downtown Manhattan.  And, that’s saying something about how good those bagels are!  And, I learned more about another kind of amnesia he has overcome.

 

Phil never loses sight of his core, unique ingredients for living an exceptional life.  Build strong, lasting relationships, always be compassionate, remember how fragile life is, and never tire of doing good to all people, all of the time.

Turn Your Lights on!

“Still no power as of early this am.”  - Richard Reaback

 

Turn Your Lights on!

 

My computer screen displayed a new electronic message from my friend Richard Reaback early this morning.  “Still no power as of early this am.” Richard.

 

I sat back in my chair, pondering.  “No power!”

 

There have been numerous events over the past few months that have made many of us feel as if we have no power and little hope.  In Richard’s case, He, his business, his town, in Connecticut, have literally been without power for the past few days, since they were battered by yet another hurricane-like tropical storm.  The storm flooded homes, businesses and did an amazing amount of wind damage.  And, this is only the latest event in a seemingly endless string of occurrences have ongoingly diminished our collective hope, belief and faith in our present and future.

 

“No power!”  I said again, to myself, as the electricity in my home flickered and then went out, just moments ago, while writing this, sitting at my desk, not long after reading Richard’s note.

 

Yes.  We have felt ostensibly powerless over the past few months as we’ve grappled with a pandemic, earthquakes, floods, hurricanes, drought, and riots.

 

Really! 

 

Then I chuckled as I recalled the note I received from my friend Jack Banks not three days ago.

 

“Still going straight to work and straight home. Been doing it for a few months now. Pretty boring life!” Jack reported as he checked in with me. Jack and his wife Somi, who live in South Korea, have, like the rest of us, had their lives turned upside down as a result of occurrences, out of their power to change.  My response to Jack?

 

“Boring seems good these days!”

 

It seems as if peace, hope and joy have abandoned us.  Yet, we are not powerless!  Perhaps the clicking sound of the electricity coming back on, combined with the start-up whirl of the ceiling fan in my home office, were the perfect catalyst to initiate a new-found appreciation of and belief in the power of the simple, dynamic and enduring ideals of Christmas.

 

I should have recognized it sooner!  As my friend Ralph Huddlestone continually drives this point home. Literally!  His automobile license plate reads, “Christmas.”

 

Like Ralph and the restored light from the LED lamp on my desk, when the power came back on today, we have an opportunity to radiate these ideals to all.  And, there is no better time to start than now.  Why wait for the traditional holiday season?

 

So, starting this very day, I’m turning the Christmas lights on at my home, and they’ll stay on as a beacon, broadcasting the ideals of peace, hope, belief, faith and love to all.  I invite you to join me in bringing these simple and dynamic ideals to light during our time of dimmed hope.

 

These ideals have the power to change all of us.  Every one!

 

Turn your Christmas Lights on tonight!

Beyond a Rope

“Maybe that’s why I’m still really tied to this place.” – John Wright

 

Beyond a Rope

 

“I was here when my Dad built every part of this house.”  John said to me as we stood in front of his childhood home.  “My dad would tie a rope around my waist and then to the chimney, so I could be on the roof with him as he installed the shingles!  Maybe that’s why I’m still really tied to this place!” 

 

John Wright’s parents have passed on now and John doesn’t live in the same city as his family home.  One would never know it!

 

The first thing I noticed, before we even entered the home, was the perfectly manicured front yard.  John lovingly keeps the grass trimmed and the flower beds filled with flowers.  There wasn’t one weed within sight of my eyes! 

 

The exterior of the home has the same similar, look of love.  It has fresh, bright, white paint on the outer walls, trimmed with an understated green.  It’s a nice contrast to the sleek, varied brown asphalt shingles that top its warm, inviting appearance.  It was all woven together to welcome us inside.

 

We entered the home through the conservatory, at the building’s rear.  Once inside, we stopped to admire the view of the pared yard and its expansive garden beyond the grass.  My eyes devoured the landscape right up to the Oquirrh Mountains to the east.

 

“I installed new up-down blinds, so we could enjoy the views and still have privacy.”  John said was we left the conservatory and sauntered into the kitchen and living area.  His eyes sparkled as we walked and talked.

 

John’s words filled the rooms with more than just sound.  It was as if the people and events he described materialized before my eyes.  Not as frightening ghosts from the past, but as fragments of love woven carefully, piece by piece over many years.

 

At the end of our time in John’s place, I was able to see the individual strands of those love-woven-pieces in his face and eyes.

 

“I was here when my Dad built this house.”  John said to me as we stood in front of the home of his youth.  “My dad would tie a rope around my waist and then to the chimney so I could be on the roof with him as he installed the shingles!  Maybe that’s why I’m still really tied to this place!”

 

No, John’s waist isn’t still figuratively attached to a rope, on the roof, to that chimney, connecting him to this home, this place.  Love-woven-pieces of enduring personal relationship have connected him, nourishing his heart forever.

 

Such ties of love go well beyond the strength of any rope!  What pieces are you weaving?