2012: Time To Grow Up

I believe the only constant is change. That's the intention behind everything we live with and live through. It's the way life works. We don't get to sign up for only the good stuff; we've got to experience it all. If' we're lucky we grow into our lives over time. We become more certain of who we are, what we need and how to live--really live--with purpose. We admit that the benefit of our experience is more than joy, more than pain. It is a patchwork quilt of every emotion, every thought, and every experience that makes a life worth getting up for in the morning. And believe me, getting up in the morning is so worth it.

December 29, 2010 Post From The I Am My Own Cause Blog -- 2010:   My Favorite Year. 

One of the perks of writing a blog is that I get the opportunity to revisit what I thought and felt at certain points in my life.  After more than three years of writing, I have a lot of source material.  I thought it would be telling to review what I wrote exactly a year ago, when I was in the midst of making one of biggest changes in my life I'd ever made: leaving my job of 15 years.  I won't go into all the reasons leading up to the decision because I've already been-there-and-done that in this space.   What I will say is that it was, definitively, time to go.

Over the years I've become a lot less afraid of taking chances.  And while I admittedly wonder about the unknown,  I don't fear it.  I'm thankful to be able to say, a year later, that I still consider getting up in the morning to be absolutely worth it.   Every day is a day to try again to be better, be more, be grateful.  Of course,  I don't claim to feel that way every second of every day, but I am  both  happy and hopeful for the life and experiences I've had, and continue to enjoy, with each day I'm blessed. 

I didn't arrive here overnight.  And given that I'm currently unemployed and looking for work, it would be easy to believe that I should instead be stressed and frightened.  The Old Charles would have been all that, believe me.  But my situation is not what it seems, however, if you're on the outside of my experience looking in.  Let me explain.

I completed my final day of work January 31 this year.   And, guided by my impeccable sense of timing, I did so during a major recession, when national unemployment was at nine percent.  Under normal circumstances no one in their right mind would have chosen to leave at that moment.  Most folks would have hunkered down and stayed until they got another job, or until, at least, the employment picture brightened.  But I've always felt connected to the lyrics of Seal's breakout hit, "Crazy", which reminded us:  "We're never gonna survive, unless. . .we get a little crazy."  So I left and leapt into a future of uncertainty.  Yet because I'm a planner, I'd saved and prepared for the move for many months ahead of my departure.  That's why the key phrase for me was "a little crazy."   Get it?

I needed time to recover and heal, so I planned to take several months off to rediscover myself and determine what I wanted to do next, professionally, as well.  I mean, I've been working since I was in the sixth grade.   Work is what saved me and my family from poverty.  Work has always given me as much as I gave it.  So I worked because it's what I knew had the power to solve the problems in life that I grew up with:  being homeless, being hungry, being ridiculed for not having what everyone else had.  The problem is that over time I grew obsessed with my career and somehow found myself indistinguishable from it.  Work, unfortunately, became an easy substitute for the life I wasn't living. 

I'm not an idiot, nor missing a sensitivity chip, so of course I knew what choice I was making.  But thanks to serious introspection and an evolution of my goals and aspirations for my life, I realized I wanted more.  That's why I left comfort behind and, responding to my conscience, ended up taking 10 months to find myself again.

In that time I realized not only that I needed my family, friends and others around me, but that they needed me, too.  They needed more than Emails,  text messages and phone calls from me.  They wanted connection, presence and mutual loving, supportive relationships.  They wanted more than expensive gifts and excuses when I didn't show up for birthdays, holidays and other life events that mattered.  They deserved more than I'd given them; more than I was always willing to give the job I held.  So today, having learned that lesson,  I can't even describe how good it feels to tell family and friends I love them, or just hang out at the movies because we can, or argue with them from time to time about silly stuff that we all soon forget, because that's what you do when you love someone.

A year since I wrote my goals for 2011, I make time to call friends, just to say hello, and to be there for them when they need a sounding board or a listening ear.  I am, for the first time in years, actually open to meeting new people, and not letting the logic and cynicism that sometimes guides my decisions get in the way of what my heart has opened itself to wanting.  That's an entirely new way of thinking for me. 

In the year since last year, I've regained a LOT of weight that I'm finally starting to thoughtfully and realistically tackle.  I'm a 100-percent emotional eater, and for months after starting to live the reality with my life-altering decision to leave 15 years of work behind, the baggage I'd carried with me from the horrific experience of what my job had become was a force to be reckoned with, but not one I handled well.  The truth is, letting go of anything is painful, even when it's the right thing to do.  No matter how prepared we think we are to manage the flood of feelings, thoughts and second-guessing we engage in, we are most often not.  I know I wasn't.  When I doubted, questioned or feared, I ate.  But I convinced myself I was simply enjoying my freedom and ignored why I was indulging in virtually every bad thing a human can eat.

Oh, that's the other thing.  I really stopped lying to myself about everything.  Big lie or white lie, I refuse to serve myself up anything but a big, healthy helping of the truth.  And, for the most part, that's what I do with others, too.  Not everyone appreciates the truth, but I've learned to accept that's OK.  Truth, like forgiveness, isn't about the other person.  It's about ourselves. You must tell the truth for yourself, so that you can be free.

There were other choices I needed to make in order to free myself.   I've had to let go of some behaviors, bid adieu to things I once thought defined me, and disconnect from people I thought were in my corner, but unfortunately discovered were only trying to keep me in it.   I've made those changes and  forgiven those who played me, but I've come away from the experience stronger for knowing I don't have room in my life for anyone or anything that only takes from me, and offers nothing in return.

In the year since I wrote about what was then the year ahead, I've celebrated a one-year anniversary with Faith, my wonder dog, who has taught me more about patience, understanding and unconditional love than any other living creature, save for my late mom, Clara (who will have been gone 20 years in 2012, but remains with me, always).  I am a bona fide "dog person" now and I literally cannot imagine my life without Faith in it.  Whenever I plan anything that will affect my life, the first consideration I have is what impact it will have on Faith.   That's the truth.   For many years I laughed at people who would say something like that; now I'm one of 'em, and I wouldn't change a  thing.

Last year at this time I judged success differently than I do now.  I clung to "things" of perceived value and secretly enjoyed that fact that some people envied my achievements, longed for an opportunity to do things things I was able to do and meet the people I was able to meet.  I thought I required a large house with four bathrooms, although I only used one.  I was surrounded by beautiful things, beautiful people and I focused on creating a lifestyle in which only the "best" would do.  But I was miserable.  Frustrated.  Unhappy.  On this day last year, however, I was on the cusp of change and knew if I could only last in my situation for four more weeks, I'd be free to start again.  And then, I was.

Today, most of my furniture is in storage.  I've given away many of the things of value I once thought I cherished.  I'm living in dramatically smaller quarters and living on my savings until I secure work doing what I love, with an organization that is open to creativity, the exchange of ideas and the belief that its employees are necessary to its success.  I don't have much occasion to attend fancy parties, dine at expensive restaurants and network with the rich and famous any longer.  Life as I know it is entirely different, absolutely downsized living, but I am so happy, so thankful for where I am and who I am, that I could just bust. 

I ended 2010 hopeful that the upcoming major change in my life wouldn't disrupt the life I knew.   A year later, I'm about to enter a new year forever thankful that it did.  You see, God had a plan for me all along.  I didn't know what it was or how it would come about, but there was a plan, nonetheless.  And it's a plan that's still revealing itself to me every day.  I'm not surprised,  because He is the ultimate creator of exceptional journeys.  And my God, what a journey it's been this year!

Last year was only the start of a process that has since taught me much about what glorious things are possible when we are blessed to wake up every morning.  And believe me, the possibilities are endless! The caveat, however, is that once we wake we must be committed to being an active, hopeful participant in the life we're given, not just a bystander afraid of taking the big risks and pursuing what seem impossible dreams.  I know for sure that without the experience of what has transpired in a year of my life, I would have been stuck exactly where I was and wouldn't be able to share with you today any profound change at all.    It wasn't just last year, of course, that brought me to this point.  All my years of experience--each up, down and in-between--have gotten me here.  And just as I wrote I hoped for last year, I've become more certain of who I am.  I have a real sense of purpose.  And I continue to grow into my life with each moment that the good Lord grants me.

I realize that where there's been loss, I've gained invaluable understanding.  Where I've faced doubt, I've discovered new sources of reassurance.  I have less than I did a year ago when it comes to the material world, but my spiritual bank is rich in reserves that will sustain me for all of my remaining years.  I have love in my life and hope in my heart, every day.  I live without fear, and  am absolutely truer to the nature of who I am, and who I am  intended to be, than ever before.  There's been a change in me--an awesome shift--that I can't deny.

What is it, you wonder?  Well, as I look back I think it's this:  I've not only grown;  I've grown up.  And you know what?  That's an awesome way to start the new year.

A Funny Thing Happened When I Looked In The Mirror This Morning. . . .

I am not vain.  I just wanna say that before anyone jumps to that conclusion after reading what follows.  However, as a man of a certain age I am conscious of what I look like, and what I could look like if I didn't take care of myself.  I'm not obsessed with getting older, just committed to looking and feeling the best I can for my age.

Everyone I know has a way of determining what it is that, for them, is a sign of looking older.  For some it is wrinkles.  For others, it's the middle-age spread.  Some people associate getting older with decreased sex drive and others, still, look for signs that they can't move or think as fast as they used to.  As measures go, these are all good ones.

Fortunately, I'm not wrinkled.  And after years of my weight going up and down I wouldn't know if I had a "spread" if my life depended on it.  Oh, and that sex drive thing?  Well, suffice it to say that I haven't ever needed a little blue pill and don't see that happening in the immediate future.  (Sorry if that's TMI).  And while I move slower and  do have many senior moments, overall I'm not concerned with my mobility and mental agility.

While I was shaving today I discovered the first obvious sign of my own aging. I almost missed it, but it was there, mocking me.  For me, it's the sign I most associate with getting older, particularly as a man, yet one I was almost certain I'd never personally see.   It was a sign that I not only fear, but am grossed-out by.   OK, I'll just say it:  I found a hair growing from my ear!

Hair growing from a man's ear is something I have always associated with the extremely hirsute or old.  And while I'm moderately hairy, I'm no Yeti.  I am, however, getting up there in years, and all my life old guys are the only other people I've seen who walk around oblivious to the aesthetically displeasing and hygienically "iffy" hair growing from inside their heads.  Whenever I've seen hair in guys' ears over the years--after allowing a wave of nausea to pass--I always said to myself, "I'm so glad I won't ever have that problem!"

But that was then and this is now, and a couple of  things have changed.  First, I've learned how ridiculous and unrealistic it is to say "never" about anything.  The second thing I've accepted is that I am now at an age where I'm not only more aware of who I am than ever before, but an age where I'm also forced to face the physiological changes my body has in store for me.  So far, I haven't had any real reason to complain, but this morning I was taken aback.   I mean, hair coming out of my ear?  C'mon, I've embraced being bald, but now I'm also supposed to be good with growing a little Afro in my ear canal? 

Once I recovered from the shock and horror of seeing the single hair I found emerging from my ear like a seedling, I quickly checked my other ear and, thankfully, found nothing.  I returned to the offending ear and looked hard, desperately and thoroughly for any other hairs but found none.  So I went straight for my grooming bag, grabbed the little scissors in it made for just this type of thing, and precisely clipped the hair as quickly as I could.  As my heartbeat returned to a normal rhythm and my thoughts began to make sense again, I realized the first salvo of what will be an epic battle had been fired, and I was officially at war.

From this day forward I will guard against my ears sprouting any hair that can be seen outside my body.  I will check the perimeter often, marshal my forces and deploy them the moment a threat seems imminent.  I accept that this is a war that will continue for the rest of my days, and I am prepared to stay in the fight.   And I will win, though the battle will be long.   I will, as General George S. Patton once encouraged us, "Accept the challenges so that you can feel the exhilaration of victory."

I know that sense of victory.  I felt it this morning when I eradicated a single hair that, seconds ago, struck fear in my heart.  I understood my mission going forward the moment I realized that insurgent forces had invaded my otherwise generally secure physical encampment and turned it into a battlefield.  But I was not afraid of the fight, for I know it is a righteous and necessary one.

Then, feeling gloriously assured of victory I had another thought:  "If this is how I react to a hair sprouting from my ear, what am I going to do when other signs of aging make themselves known?"  I took a moment and realized I don't have an answer.  Not at all.  That's because I am getting older and my body, by default, is aging.  It simply is what it is.

The prospect of aging can give us fits, if we allow it.  Our culture isn't kind when it comes to those it considers old. But there's a difference between aging and being old.  I think it has as much to do with what we think and how we behave as it does the changes in our body.  That's why I will never give up on myself and buy into the idea that once aging starts, it's a losing battle.  Instead, I will take care of myself.  I will nurture my body, mind and spirit in ways that help me  take advantage of every opportunity I have to live well, happily, healthfully and abundantly.  I will treat aging as a recognized friend rather than an unwelcome guest, and in doing so free myself from worrying when yet another sign of aging will show up, or how long it will stay with me.

The smart money is on those who accept that we're all aging; some faster and more severely than others.  But at whatever rate aging happens to us, we can chose how we allow it to impact us.  For me, that means I will continue to pluck the errant hairs that show up in my ears from time to time.  Others will choose Botox to keep wrinkles at bay.  Many people live at the gym and have better bodies in their golden years than they did when they were 25.   And some people will just not give a damn about anything and be fine, nonetheless.  Aging is a journey we're all taking, but there's no reason to expect we'll all take it the same way or find ourselves in the same places.  That's OK.

I will need to deal with aging, and the signs the come with it, from time to time. But I'll do it in my own way and you'll do it in yours.  And where we find something that works for us we can share it with others who willing to accept it.  There are billion-dollar industries built around anti-aging these days but, to know knowledge, there is no magic bullet.  Well, maybe just one. 

It's not what you may think.  It's not a pill, an exercise regimen, a cosmetic surgery or procedure or eating your vegetables.  Instead, it's a mind-set that involves all of that and more, to one degree or another, for every person.  It's a mind-set that I try to begin each day embracing that reminds me that as long as I'm here I have the ability to adjust to whatever happens, when it happens.  Through prayer, some intensive self care and a commitment to being healthy in terms of body, mind and spirit,  I don't ever have to be as old as I am, but can always be as young as I feel.

In my book, that's not the vanity of youth; it's the wisdom of age.

Remembering Steve Jobs, In His Own Words

I didn't know Steve Jobs personally.  I don't even have an iPhone (but I do have an iPad).  Yet somehow, I have always admired him and his single-mindedness.  While facing his very human struggle with cancer, he wasn't defined by his wealth and business acclaim, but by his very private and gracious endeavor to do the best that he could while he could.  And at the end, all the "world changer" talk aside, Steve Jobs reminded us all that life is for the living and those living should make the most of it.


I get it, believe me.


In addition to all the creative and game-changing technology Steve Jobs leaves us, he also left this, a gift he gave to the graduating class of Stanford University in 2005.  Read carefully, for the words he spoke echo across the divides humanity creates and reminds us of how valuable, sacred and worthwhile life is.  I do not take one word lightly, nor do I ever intend to forget how honest and thoughtful a man he was.  For me, this is his masterwork, and I'm glad he shared it with them, and that I can now share it with you.  My thoughts are with Mr. Jobs' family and friends today, and I know he will be missed more for the man he was than for the technology he created.  When you read this, you'll understand why.

This is a prepared text of the Commencement address delivered by Steve Jobs, CEO of Apple Computer and of Pixar Animation Studios, on June 12, 2005.

I am honored to be with you today at your commencement from one of the finest universities in the world. I never graduated from college. Truth be told, this is the closest I've ever gotten to a college graduation. Today I want to tell you three stories from my life. That's it. No big deal. Just three stories.

The first story is about connecting the dots.

I dropped out of Reed College after the first 6 months, but then stayed around as a drop-in for another 18 months or so before I really quit. So why did I drop out?

It started before I was born. My biological mother was a young, unwed college graduate student, and she decided to put me up for adoption. She felt very strongly that I should be adopted by college graduates, so everything was all set for me to be adopted at birth by a lawyer and his wife. Except that when I popped out they decided at the last minute that they really wanted a girl. So my parents, who were on a waiting list, got a call in the middle of the night asking: "We have an unexpected baby boy; do you want him?" They said: "Of course." My biological mother later found out that my mother had never graduated from college and that my father had never graduated from high school. She refused to sign the final adoption papers. She only relented a few months later when my parents promised that I would someday go to college.

And 17 years later I did go to college. But I naively chose a college that was almost as expensive as Stanford, and all of my working-class parents' savings were being spent on my college tuition. After six months, I couldn't see the value in it. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and no idea how college was going to help me figure it out. And here I was spending all of the money my parents had saved their entire life. So I decided to drop out and trust that it would all work out OK. It was pretty scary at the time, but looking back it was one of the best decisions I ever made. The minute I dropped out I could stop taking the required classes that didn't interest me, and begin dropping in on the ones that looked interesting.

It wasn't all romantic. I didn't have a dorm room, so I slept on the floor in friends' rooms, I returned coke bottles for the 5¢ deposits to buy food with, and I would walk the 7 miles across town every Sunday night to get one good meal a week at the Hare Krishna temple. I loved it. And much of what I stumbled into by following my curiosity and intuition turned out to be priceless later on. Let me give you one example:

Reed College at that time offered perhaps the best calligraphy instruction in the country. Throughout the campus every poster, every label on every drawer, was beautifully hand calligraphed. Because I had dropped out and didn't have to take the normal classes, I decided to take a calligraphy class to learn how to do this. I learned about serif and san serif typefaces, about varying the amount of space between different letter combinations, about what makes great typography great. It was beautiful, historical, artistically subtle in a way that science can't capture, and I found it fascinating.

None of this had even a hope of any practical application in my life. But ten years later, when we were designing the first Macintosh computer, it all came back to me. And we designed it all into the Mac. It was the first computer with beautiful typography. If I had never dropped in on that single course in college, the Mac would have never had multiple typefaces or proportionally spaced fonts. And since Windows just copied the Mac, it's likely that no personal computer would have them. If I had never dropped out, I would have never dropped in on this calligraphy class, and personal computers might not have the wonderful typography that they do. Of course it was impossible to connect the dots looking forward when I was in college. But it was very, very clear looking backwards ten years later.

Again, you can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something — your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.

My second story is about love and loss.

I was lucky — I found what I loved to do early in life. Woz and I started Apple in my parents garage when I was 20. We worked hard, and in 10 years Apple had grown from just the two of us in a garage into a $2 billion company with over 4000 employees. We had just released our finest creation — the Macintosh — a year earlier, and I had just turned 30. And then I got fired. How can you get fired from a company you started? Well, as Apple grew we hired someone who I thought was very talented to run the company with me, and for the first year or so things went well. But then our visions of the future began to diverge and eventually we had a falling out. When we did, our Board of Directors sided with him. So at 30 I was out. And very publicly out. What had been the focus of my entire adult life was gone, and it was devastating.

I really didn't know what to do for a few months. I felt that I had let the previous generation of entrepreneurs down - that I had dropped the baton as it was being passed to me. I met with David Packard and Bob Noyce and tried to apologize for screwing up so badly. I was a very public failure, and I even thought about running away from the valley. But something slowly began to dawn on me — I still loved what I did. The turn of events at Apple had not changed that one bit. I had been rejected, but I was still in love. And so I decided to start over.

I didn't see it then, but it turned out that getting fired from Apple was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. The heaviness of being successful was replaced by the lightness of being a beginner again, less sure about everything. It freed me to enter one of the most creative periods of my life.

During the next five years, I started a company named NeXT, another company named Pixar, and fell in love with an amazing woman who would become my wife. Pixar went on to create the worlds first computer animated feature film, Toy Story, and is now the most successful animation studio in the world. In a remarkable turn of events, Apple bought NeXT, I returned to Apple, and the technology we developed at NeXT is at the heart of Apple's current renaissance. And Laurene and I have a wonderful family together.

I'm pretty sure none of this would have happened if I hadn't been fired from Apple. It was awful tasting medicine, but I guess the patient needed it. Sometimes life hits you in the head with a brick. Don't lose faith. I'm convinced that the only thing that kept me going was that I loved what I did. You've got to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers. Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle. As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don't settle.

My third story is about death.

When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: "If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right." It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: "If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?" And whenever the answer has been "No" for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.

Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.

About a year ago I was diagnosed with cancer. I had a scan at 7:30 in the morning, and it clearly showed a tumor on my pancreas. I didn't even know what a pancreas was. The doctors told me this was almost certainly a type of cancer that is incurable, and that I should expect to live no longer than three to six months. My doctor advised me to go home and get my affairs in order, which is doctor's code for prepare to die. It means to try to tell your kids everything you thought you'd have the next 10 years to tell them in just a few months. It means to make sure everything is buttoned up so that it will be as easy as possible for your family. It means to say your goodbyes.

I lived with that diagnosis all day. Later that evening I had a biopsy, where they stuck an endoscope down my throat, through my stomach and into my intestines, put a needle into my pancreas and got a few cells from the tumor. I was sedated, but my wife, who was there, told me that when they viewed the cells under a microscope the doctors started crying because it turned out to be a very rare form of pancreatic cancer that is curable with surgery. I had the surgery and I'm fine now.

This was the closest I've been to facing death, and I hope it's the closest I get for a few more decades. Having lived through it, I can now say this to you with a bit more certainty than when death was a useful but purely intellectual concept:

No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life's change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.

Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.

When I was young, there was an amazing publication called The Whole Earth Catalog, which was one of the bibles of my generation. It was created by a fellow named Stewart Brand not far from here in Menlo Park, and he brought it to life with his poetic touch. This was in the late 1960's, before personal computers and desktop publishing, so it was all made with typewriters, scissors, and polaroid cameras. It was sort of like Google in paperback form, 35 years before Google came along: it was idealistic, and overflowing with neat tools and great notions.

Stewart and his team put out several issues of The Whole Earth Catalog, and then when it had run its course, they put out a final issue. It was the mid-1970s, and I was your age. On the back cover of their final issue was a photograph of an early morning country road, the kind you might find yourself hitchhiking on if you were so adventurous. Beneath it were the words: "Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish." It was their farewell message as they signed off. Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish. And I have always wished that for myself. And now, as you graduate to begin anew, I wish that for you.

Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish.

Thank you all very much.

Lifequakes: Choose To Survive

Today was the second time I've experienced an earthquake, but the first time it shook me up inside.

It was 1:51 p.m. EST today when the 5.9 magnitude quake hit, and I was totally unprepared.  For a few moments I was simply unable to move, mainly because I was trying to figure out whether what seemed to be happening  was real.  Then, realizing it was I sprung into action and sought to protect my two most valuable possessions--my Chihuahua, Faith, and my 55-inch TV.  Yes, in that order.  Guess I'm more of a "guy" about electronics than I've been willing to admit.

Faith, by the way, freaked out.  Like most dogs, loud sounds or unexpected movement send her running for the hills or whatever shelter she can find.  Usually, she first runs to me and makes it clear that she wants me to be that shelter.  Without words she can more clearly communicate her thoughts, wants and needs than a lot of people I know.

Once the shaking subsided after about 30 seconds and my gumption returned, I ventured out, with Faith, for her afternoon walk.  Stopped by the apartment rental office to check with the manager to make sure she was OK, and talked about the surprise of an earthquake and other related subjects that just came up naturally.  By the time I made it outside the world wasn't shaking any longer and my own internal quakes were beginning to disappear, too.  Faith, on the other hand, stepped cautiously and wasn't all that interested in walking about.  I understood.

Almost two hours later we're both still a little unsettled.  This is a surprise for me.  I feel anxious and unexpectedly jumpy, as if I'm only waiting for the next shoe to drop.  Which, by the way, could happen since the geologists have encouraged the area to be prepared for aftershocks.

For the rest of this day, at least, I'm on guard.  I want to be prepared, as much as I can, for anything that might happen next.

When that thought occurred to me, I realized something:  Sounds a lot like life, doesn't it?

Indeed, it does.  How many things happen in life that are unexpected, occur quickly and leave us feeling anxious and uncertain?  When these lifequakes happen, our reactions are often much the same as the ones I had today:  initial disbelief, quick acceptance, efforts to self-protect, then anxious caution if we make it through whatever we've faced.

For a long time I was insulated from the actual experience of earthquakes because they were something that happened to other people on TV.  Growing up in St. Louis, MO I never experienced an earthquake but saw plenty of people who did on TV when the news reported on it.  I always felt empathy and sympathy for these people, but just took for granted that I was safe and sound, untouched by whatever results the quake left behind.  But as I grew older I felt more and more connected to these stories whenever I saw them, much in the same way that I did when there were reports about people who were victims of  violent crimes.  That's because I began to realize these weren't just nameless, faceless people.  They were people just like me who began their days expecting the norm and ended them facing the extraordinarily unexpected.

If they survived the experience, they were forever changed.  Nothing again was taken for granted.  Nothing was the same old, same old anymore.  And every day they faced after the experience they greeted with a greater sense of thanks and appreciation.  With recent tornadoes, earthquakes and new threats of hurricanes threatening parts of the nation right now, I know there are a lot of people in a lot of places who are feeling a bit anxious about what's to come.  They've been through things like this before and once anyone has, that unsettled, anxious feeling never really leaves.  Folks who have survived "disaster" are almost always on alert.  Prepared, though not expectant.

In short, just like my mama used to say, "When you've been through something hard to live with, you learn to live better."  That's why so many people  have learned to be ready for things that affect and change their lives as a matter of fact.  They know that their lives can be shaken up without notice and yet, once it's over, they can go on, rebuild and try again. . . if they survive. 

"Anything we've survived through Grace we must endeavor to survive by choice."

That's the lesson I took away from today's quake.  And it's an important lesson because it reaffirms for me that choosing to respond to any challenge with hope instead of fear is the only choice.   That's true whether we're facing an earthquake, a hurricane, the loss of a job, the dissolution of a relationship or the departure of a loved one.  Though these and so many experiences will shake us to the very core, and aftershocks will sometimes go on for what seems like forever, if we survive we will do so knowing that these lifequakes are not normal or abnormal, but just happen, period.  So while we will never know when they'll happen or how we'll respond, we must respond.  Anything we've survived through Grace we must endeavor to survive by choice.

Today, I've made it through this quake and I'm preparing for any potential aftershocks.  But I'm also aware of the other challenges I've survived and how thankful I am to still be here, standing on the solid rock of faith from which I've carved a foundation on which I will build the rest of my life; one challenge, one opportunity, one choice at a time.

If you've had lifequakes of your own recently, or are having an aftershock at the moment, I hope and pray you will find the courage and conviction to choose to go forward--whatever challenges have been rendered in the wake of the experience--in pursuit of the life you have right here, right now. . .and for the rest of the years you are blessed to enjoy.

Options You Can Live With

Today, I'm starting with a definition:

op·tion (pshn), n.

1. The act of choosing; choice.
2. The power or freedom to choose.
 
You'll notice from the definition that while the term "option" is a noun, it requires an active practice--choosing.  That's important, for I know a lot of people who believe that they have no options, no choice, because of other people, events or circumstances they face.  Everything they know is about the forces these exert upon their lives; they feel powerless and incapable of anything more than adapting to the situations they find themselves in.  Without seeming to even know it, folks end up selecting an option to live their lives that is the worst kind:  having no options at all.
 
As the definition confirms, however, believing we're powerless is a choice, and therefore an option by default, which is why I often wonder how so many of us get to the point of thinking it's the only option available to us?  Is it because we've grown tired of trying and not seeing the results we want?  Have we been broken down so much that we fear another beat-down is just around the corner if we choose a different option?  Or do we just buy into, 100 percent of the time, the premise that "Life's a bitch and then you die?"
 
It's a real question, right?  Something is afoot that has resulted in so much limited expectation in the world.  But while I accept there is no singular answer that responds to the question, I am astute enough to appreciate that the answer is always different for everyone, because there is always a reason for the answer. 
 
That has been true for me, at least.  For a long time, my limited sense of options led me to always accept how I was treated by people I came across along the various avenues of my life, and to like it, because accepting it was better than whatever I considered other potential alternatives at the time.  Personal relationships, professional ones. . .it didn't matter.  Like so many people, I had the "disease to please" and if that meant I had to put up with things that made me feel not-so-good about myself, it was a small price to pay just to be part of something, to be connected to others. . . .to feel as though I mattered.
 
People who know me today would find that hard to believe.  That's because I am no longer that person.  The reason I'm not is because after years of living a limited existence, I realized that I had other, real options that would allow me to live a more abundant life.  Once I got it, I really got it.  But it took some time to get there.
 

From the time we're cognizant of the world around us and our place in it, we work really hard to fit in.  We associate ourselves with people, organizations and social contexts that allow us to self-identify with something bigger than ourselves.  We pursue lifestyles that speak to our sameness as opposed to our individuality.  I can't criticize the behavior because, almost routinely, it's the process of socialization we're dealt.  Steeped in tradition, manners and other accepted practices, the world tends to de-individualize us from Day One.  That's why after all the socialization, I can understand why our desire to fit in makes sense.  Differences that are outside the realm of acceptance are bad.  Similarities that make society more comfortable are good. 
From the beginning of time, there has always been some group or someone who defined what was right and proper, and anyone who didn't want to be persecuted or otherwise ostracized because of their differences did their very best to be like everyone else; going along every day so they could get along in life.  And if you knew what was good for you, you'd better not complain.  That's just the way things have always been.
 
But after living that way, even for a brief time, a battle ensues.  A battle between the world we live in and the spirit that makes you everything you are.  And when we let the world define us, our spirit begins to atrophy.  We lose a sense of our value and specialness.  Our opinions become diluted, dependent upon signs of potential agreement across the board before we grant ourselves permission to share them with anyone, just to make sure we ruffle no feathers.  We put up with insults, accept attacks on our integrity. . .accept being mistreated despite knowing we deserve much, much better.
 

We tell ourselves it's because the person or people heaping the mistreatment upon our backs is simply having a bad day, or convince ourselves that because that someone is the "boss" that we have to accept it.  We consciously lose our voice when our spirit demands that we remove ourselves from such people and the environments they create, because we're convinced that we need the person, the job, the relationship. . . the whatever it is we use to justify enduring what we're going through.  We don't believe we have other options.
 
The moment we accept that premise we have, in effect, created a self-fulfilling prophecy from which it is hard as hell to escape, for once we see no other options we seek none out.  And our lives reflect that grin-and-bear it perspective for the rest of our days.
 
For a number of years that's where I was until circumstances, the cries of my spirit and common sense combined to help me see that, in fact, I didn't want to live the rest of my life believing that things couldn't get better.  Which is why I've been thinking a lot about options, lately, because I know I've reached a point where I have more than I'd ever thought.  I'm not the only one.  So do you.
 
It occurred to me how many we have when I recalled a Chris Rock quote, in which he said something that will, along with other quotations, be inscribed in my consciousness forever:  "Being wealthy is not about being rich; it's about having options."

What a revelation!  And I love the wisdom.  Although he related options to wealth in this case, my thinking went bit further, a little broader.  I realized that being happy isn't about all the trappings we associate with it; it's also about having options.  Options on every front.  Options with regard to what you value and consider essential to living a life you find purposeful and fulfilling.  Like options themselves, those things are very clear to each and every one of us when we open ourselves up to embracing them. 

For me, the option of happiness is about simply having the freedom to be in the world, as I am, without sacrificing the essential nature of who I am and what I can offer because I am in the world.  Really, isn't that what almost everyone wants?

Before I'd even heard the Chris Rock quote, I'd actually begun redefining my options in 2008, inspired by some major life changes that made it clear I wasn't the happiest of campers.  So I prayed, meditated and planned.  I set about changing my circumstances, evaluating and changing the nature of my relationships with people to whom I was connected, and reconnecting with myself.  I was surprised to discover how much I was existing and how little I was living.

Over the years since, the ongoing process has paid off.  I realized that I had the option to reinvent my life from the inside out versus trying to live it from the outside, in.  I had the option to maintain relationships with people who appreciate me, my quirks and all the stuff that makes me the person I am.  I also had the option to end any relationships in which I could not be that person, and I did.

I discovered the option I had to expect respect, recognition and reward in my career for working hard and producing results, contributing to collective gains of the organization, and giving an honest, thoughtful opinion when others chose not to.  I learned that supporting teamwork isn't necessarily the same thing as doing good work.

I embraced the option to realize I had trust issues and to work through them, opening doors to experiences and people from which I'd been shut off for years.  I even opened up to loving without fearing loss; so much so, in fact, that I adopted a dog who has, for all intents and purposes, become one of the greatest daily joys in my life.  I fuss over her, spoil her rotten, and offer up a prayer of thanks every day the gift she is.

Earlier this year, I took advantage of the option to leave a professional environment that had, after two years, proven worse for me than any I'd known in more than 20 years, albeit during the worse recession I've ever known.  But I did it, and I haven't looked back.  I consider myself the better for it.

I continue to engage in the option to writing, of sharing my experiences, life and soulful journey toward the me I'm becoming.   The process feeds me, gives me purpose and somehow has found a way to touch, inspire and encourage other lives, as well.

All these things have helped me understand and exercise the most important option available to me, outside of loving God:  living without fear, doubt and hopelessness.  And because I live this way, recalling Chris Rock's inspired thinking, I do feel rich.  Perhaps not monetarily.  Perhaps not in all the ways that the world chooses to teach are assessments of real wealth.  But I feel it in the way that matters most, when every day, for almost all of the day, I am always happy, always open, and always looking forward to whatever comes next.  That, for me, is the best of options.  It's the option I call living.

Trust God, Don't Question The Messenger

When you're in the midst of a job search, like millions of people, or facing a scary health diagnosis, as many are, or just going through something that leaves you wondering if you'll ever get through it and find your way to the other side, it can be a lonely proposition.  It's not a good look to constantly speak about your lot in life, your hardships, because everyone is living with challenges of their own right now.   Complaining about how hard you've got it comes off as insensitive and selfish when that's all you do.

I guess that's why with only rare exception I do what I can to respond honestly, but hopefully, whenever people ask how I am.  I really do believe that despite the fact that the job market is tough right now, and I've learned some very interesting lessons about how that market has changed since I last looked for work, that in time everything will work out and I'll secure not only a job, but the job I desire.

I am certain of it, in fact.

Yet there are moments when the journey toward that destination seems ever long, bumpy and with few useful stops along the way.  It can be scary, all the uncertainty, and even as certain as I am about the outcome I fully expect to come about, it's easy to feel overwhelmed by the waiting, wanting, and wishing.  Anyone who is hoping for a change in their current condition and circumstances, whatever it is that they're facing, can appreciate what that feels like.  But if you're like me, when you get the general inquiry about how things are you don't open the flood gates and release all that feeling upon the unsuspecting and unfortunate person who happened to ask the question.  Nope, you just don't do that.

Instead, you try to deal with it all through prayer, meditation and reflection.  At least I do.  And it works.  I have to be consistent with it, but the practice has never failed me, thankfully, for if there's one feeling I don't like walking around with it's uncertainty.  That's because uncertainty about one thing can easily turn into uncertainty about everything if you don't hold tightly to your faith, which was born of experiences you've endured before, and trust in the power you have to get through whatever you're going through. 

Still, facing any challenge is a very individual, and hence lonely, process.  And if I'm being honest, I often need reassurance:  the kind of one-human-to-another reassurance that taps into the human connectedness we share.  This need for reassurance isn't, by the way, separate from faith, but reliant upon it.  When someone assures me that I'll survive a hardship, I know when they really believe it, and accept that the reassurance is genuine.  It's the same sense of reassurance I have after praying  for answers and trusting that the answers are on the way.  Either way, I just know.

How do I know?  Well, it's because of how I receive the message more than when I receive it. 

Over few weeks, for instance, I've received responses to my prayers in ways I never imagined.  The messages weren't always about getting a job, which I thought was the source of all my questions; they sometimes were about core issues related to how I was feeling, like being cared for, being respected, being able to ask for help and accepting kindness, and having a purpose in life that's even bigger than having a job.

Being Cared For

Last week, my best friend Mark visited me.  It's always good to see him because he is my very best friend and I don't get to see him often.  As anyone can appreciate, the best  thing about a best friend is how easy the interaction is.  We can hang out, watch television and not even talk to each other that much because we simply don't have to.  We get each other.  There's a level of comfort that's only possible after knowing someone for more than 20 years and going through good and bad times together.  I value that more than I can say.

I'm the older of us, by six years.  I've been further along in my career and earning power than he was because of it, but through hard work and a brilliance in computer programming that I long ago gave up even trying to understand, he's steadily closed the gap.  We've never been competitive in that regard, but that's just the fact.  Only once before during the time I've known him have I been without a job, and it was a much shorter stint than I've lived with now.  Fortunately, I prepared for this time so I'm doing well as I continue to look, but when Mark visited last week, something happened that I will never forget.

We went to the market (since I'm eating and exercising in very specific ways I have nothing in my fridge outside of the food I use) to purchase food he could eat and replace items I needed.  As I've always done, when we reached the checkout lane I planned to pay for the items.  It was as normal a behavior for me as anything.  But before I could, he'd swiped his credit card and paid.  He didn't say a word, he just did it.  When I protested, he just brushed it off as though he was doing it because I was letting him stay at my place, but I know my best friend.  He did it because, without knowing my financial status while I look for work, he didn't want me spending extra money on groceries I'd otherwise not be buying.  It was a silent and yet potent way of showing he cared about me, wanted to help, and didn't want to make a big deal out of it.  It was a moment I was reminded that despite everything, I am not alone in facing this challenge; I have people who care for me. 

Being Respected

Anyone going through something that makes you question who you are or what you've done will appreciate that facing rejection when searching for work just, well, sucks.  If you don't have a strong sense of self you'll easily succumb to the idea that perhaps you haven't known the successes you've known, achieved the things you've achieved or been recognized for your abilities.  You'll begin to think rejection of any kind has more to do with you than it does the other person or persons, who are more interested in other factors than your ability to do the job, and do it well.

It's at times like this that frustration easily sets in and eventually turns maddening.  Trust me, I've been there.  And just when you wonder, aloud, "Why aren't these people seeing who I am and what I've done?", you get a message that reminds you that someone does know, and respects you for it.  That's what happened last week when a  captain I worked with during my stint at the St. Louis Metropolitan Police Department (among the best three years in my career), wrote me an email via LinkedIn.   It was 16 years since we'd last spoken, and it was a surprise when he wrote, but it felt like we'd never lost touch.  I felt honored because as a civilian employee within the department, it wasn't the easiest thing to convince veteran officers that you knew what you were doing.  But somehow, I did, as evidenced by the captain's sign-off in the final email we wrote that day: 

"Know that in the entire 38 years I was with the department, you're the only one that ever successfully performed in the position as a public relations director. We lost a valued asset when you left."

Cops are not people who are quick to compliment or offer praise.  But this man, who I respected and genuinely appreciated for the work he did and the care with which he did it, thought this about me, and still did after all these years.  He gave me a gift that day that I will always treasure, for he helped me remember who I was and continue to be, and why I have earned respect over the years.  It was just the reminder I needed at the very moment I needed it.

Being Able to Ask For Help, And Accepting Kindness

I'm a pretty resourceful, independent guy.  Until 8-10 years or so, I firmly believed that anything I needed to accomplish or handle, I could do myself, by myself.   I refused to ask for help, and considered doing so a weakness.  I spurned offers of assistance when they were offered.  It was, reflecting upon that time in my life, a ridiculous behavior and an even more ridiculous way to live.  But, fortunately, when I knew better I did better, to paraphrase Maya Angelou.

While job-hunting, I've applied what I've learned about asking for help to my networking efforts.  I've turned to several people, all of whom have been willing to help and support me, and realized the blessing of having a network I can readily access is simply wonderful.  But everyone I know doesn't know everyone else, so there have been times when I saw a great opportunity that I wanted to pursue, but didn't know a soul who could help open that door.  Years ago I would've just written it off, but not now.  When I opened myself up to appreciating the wonderful benefits that come from asking for help, I didn't limit myself to people I know.  Help is help, ya know?  And like so many things for which we ask for help, I realized, all anyone can do is tell you they can't or won't help you.  That's not so bad, is it? 

It was in this spirit  a couple of weeks ago that I reached out to a gentleman about a job I was interested in at FedEx.  I didn't know him and he didn't know me.  But when I found his information (again, using LinkedIn--God Bless it!) I wrote a note explaining that I knew no one at the company, didn't trust online application systems because "real people" aren't involved, and was looking for a little help to break through.  It was a risk, but not a big one.  Again, the worst conclusion is that he could've ignored the note or just turned me down flat.  But a day after I'd written, I got a response.  He was willing to help me, saying he understood my feelings about online systems.  He asked that I send him my information and complete the online so I'd be in the system.  He volunteered to bring my resume and other information to the attention of hiring managers for the position, and complimented me on my background as one that would be right, in his opinion, for the role.

I was, and still am, very appreciative.  I was tremendously thankful because he didn't have to do what he did.  But more than anything, I was reminded once more of something my mom, Clara, always said:  "Nothing beats a trial but a try."  In making the effort to ask for help my greatest reward won't be the possibility to getting interviewed or eventually getting the job (although I've love that outcome), but the kindness a stranger showed me when I simply asked him for help.  It's a response I not only rejoiced in receiving, but am now forever compelled to give when and if I'm approached by someone needing help.  In other words, his kindness is now a gift that, through me, will keep on giving.


A Bigger Purpose In Life

I've been writing posts on this blog since 2008; I've surprised myself that I've been consistent with it.  But writing it has given me more than it has required of me.  It's fed my spirit, saved me money I'd have spent on therapy by allowing me to work things out here, and given me the opportunity to embrace the interconnectedness of the world and all the people who inhabit it.  Two books have been born from this blog.  I've actually developed a following; people read what I write and use the messages and lessons from my journey to help guide them on their own journeys.  And it is this gift of purpose for which I am most thankful.  When I've been going through things I've been going through , which prompted me to start writing the blog in the first place, it has been the sharing, encouragement and support I've received and offered via this vehicle that helped me keep my head up, learn how much we have in common and given me reason to believe everything is possible.  I've heard from many people over the years, and I'm always thankful for the feedback and responses.  And though I continue to be uncomfortable hearing that I've made a difference in someone's life, I do accept that everything that happened before I started writing and everything that has happened since has been about my serving a greater purpose in life.

I am not defined by whether I have a job or not at the moment.  I am not summarized by the title I do or do not have.  But I am this blog.  It is my heart, my soul, my thoughts, my faith.  It is everything I know, everything I question and everything I believe in.  So whenever it reaches, touches, compels or helps someone else, I know why I am here, and I fully embrace it for the gift that it is.

On June 27, I received an email from an unknown email address, so I was initially hesitant to open it.  We can't be too careful these days, right?   But when I read the subject line, "Absolutely Inspiring," I decided to see what it was.  I'm glad I did.  A woman who'd come across my blog via Twitter wrote me one of the most awesome messages I've ever received.  And it came a literal day after one of the most challenging, emotional days I've had lately.  Clearly, I realized after reading it, God wanted me to know something,  and this wonderful woman, Quinetha (@FirstbornGroup on Twitter) was His most-capable messenger.  Read on, and you'll understand why:

I am literally shaking my head as I pen this… I am also fighting my own disposition to never write personal responses to the authors of pieces I read online, or hear on NPR, or… well you get the picture. But I happened upon your blogspot on last week and for a week promised myself that I would stop to read it. Then I said I would just print it and read it throughout the day. Well, a week later I am finally experiencing the total refreshment of your writing. I am sure you receive thousands of compliments on your articles (blogs), but if you read this one, know that it is heartfelt and as genuine as your writing. You have an awesome gift of writing that I know was given to you by God. It is amazing to hear your heart through each line. I literally feel the emotion of your phrases, witty reflections, and inspirational challenges. It is amazing to hear someone voice the very ‘unsung melody’ of my own experience as a writer, as a social entrepreneur, as a person of faith. I am sure that your writing comes from a place of experience and reality that fuels your words and creates the most-positive energy. Please keep writing. Whatever your next job or career will be, I look forward to your success. Just know that your gift is making room for you as your write yourself out of your current ‘place’. The ‘Worry’ and “So Far’ pieces have revived me and gave me the motivation I need to keep pushing. I am learning that the more successful people think you are, the more isolated your struggles become. I have kept about 90% of every internal struggle of maintaining my ‘personal’ inspiration to myself because most of my friends and loved ones see me as a "super" person who can persevere through anything. But reading your blog gave me the okay to exhale, because there was indeed at least one other person who mirrored my own silent frustrations. So now I can continue to smile, but with a confidence that I am not alone. I promise to remember your writing. And when I have a set the proper stage, I will call on you to share…Your own Cause.

Thank You,

-Q

See what I mean?  It was a powerful wallop, this message.  I was overjoyed, overcome, overwhelmed.  And I got it.  I really did.  This reader was thanking me for what I did for her when, in fact, she'd  lifted me up.  She reminded me that I do have purpose; there is a reason why I opened up my life and started sharing it.  And she brought me back from the brink.  Thank you, Quinetha, for you humble me.  God saw fit to allow us to share our journeys and, in His infinite wisdom, grow from the experience through shared experience.  That's. . .just. . .awesome!


The Blessing

In the past several months I have had my mettle tested, my hopes challenged and my self-worth shaken.  Who hasn't?  And I have, more often than I cared to admit, retreated to old behaviors that found me carrying the weight of all my fears, doubts and frustrations on my back, alone, because I didn't want to burden anyone else with my problems.  I know better, yet I did it, anyway.

Thankfully, I serve a God who realizes His perfectly imperfect son needs to be reminded of the truth when despair and uncertainty settle upon his house.  And he needs those messages to arrive simply, clearly, definitively.  So God chooses unique methods and messengers to deliver His words of truth, love and encouragement so that the perfectly imperfect son will know them for what they are.  And I do.

The lesson in this is that we must always be open to receiving the answers we seek, but have no expectations with regard to the form in which they will arrive.  Moses saw a burning bush; I received an email.  But we both understood the message God wanted us to receive, and had no doubts about it.

I want you to know that the answers to all your questions and concerns, big and small, are all around you.  You are being heard. Your prayers have not gone unanswered.  But if you're looking for grand gestures to let you know God is responding, you're barking up the wrong tree.  Chances are God's not going to part the Red Sea just to prove you're actually hearing from Him;  you should more than likely expect signs carried by messengers who are friends, people you've worked with, and yes, even strangers.   These are the people God will use to get through to you, help you, strengthen you and change you forever.

These are the whispers Oprah Winfrey speaks of when she describes how God initially communicates with us.  They are the gentle nudges God gives us to help us reconnect to our spirit and accept the messages He has for us.  If you think about it, you know you've felt them, repeatedly, throughout your life.  And since you have, you know why each one is a blessing.  For me, it's because I've learned to listen for, and be open to, these various and unique means through which God consistently let's me know I am alive with a purpose and for a purpose, and that in my moments of darkness He will always help me rediscover the light.

So pay attention, my friends.  God is speaking, answering your questions, addressing your worries, resolving your problems.  He's showing you the way and reminding you of what you already know and have experienced.   There's only one caveat:   When He's nudging and speaking to you you've gotta pull yourself out of the muddle long enough, just long enough, to allow yourself to hear what he's saying and embrace the ways He's delivering the message to you.

If you do, in the midst of your storm, whatever it is, you'll know the means by which God chooses to speak to us are endless, as is His love for us.

All you've got to do is listen. . . and let the messenger deliver His message.

 

So Far, Here's What I've Learned

At the moment, I have a lot of time on my hands because I'm searching for my dream job and taking care to find it.  For a while, I didn't do much with the time that  could be considered good for me.  I watched a lot of TV, fell in love with the idea and receipt of takeout meal delivery and learned quickly how it felt to have absolutely nothing I had to do.   Believe me, living that way got old fast, very fast.

In the last few months, however, I've used my time better, I'm happy to report.  I reconnected with my body, mind and spirit in very productive ways that I am proud to say are making me a better person.  I'm improving my body through regular and often intense exercise (I'm doing Insanity, can you believe it?).  I have connected even more to the practice of prayer and meditation in my life, and listen intently for the messages God relays to me from all manner of unexpected sources.  I'm also rediscovering the clarity of my own thoughtful processes after years of having been programmed not think for myself, but to keep my opinions to myself and preserve the status-quo.  That's what being a good  team member came to mean at my last job, at least.  

This morning, while out walking and engaging in prayer and reflection, I thought about my life and where I've been brought so far.  I considered my mistakes and things I've done well.  Then, I wondered, aloud, "What do I know now that continues to help me grow into the person I'm intended to be, and may be of use to other people, too?"  Answers came quickly, because in the last decade particularly, I've experienced and endured and survived a lot.

There was a rush of hundreds of thoughts, ideas and opinions.  But I won't begin to try to share all of them here.  I'm intentionally trying to tighten up my posts a little bit, and that would defeat the purpose.  So, I sorted through everything I thought and decided that these eleven, written here, are ones that speak to the human condition, no matter who you are, what you look like or how you think. 

I'm not asking anything of you other than to consider the ideas without prejudice.  I don't need you to agree with me.  But I hope, if you're willing, you'll take what follows and consider it through the lens of your own life, and find a way to appreciate your individual journey all the more once you've read what I've selected to share with you.

Eleven Thoughts For Life, And Living It

1. Lay claim to those moments when you really want something, badly, and don't be afraid to admit how much you want it out of fear that you'll be disappointed.
2. Realize that we're all here for a limited amount of time; how we each choose to use that time is up to us. Don't live to regret that you used your time judging others.
3. Learn to be thankful for tough times and challenges; you'll be surprised by what the experiences can teach you about yourself, and others.
4. Don't harbor hatred, guilt, jealousy or any feeling or thought that unnecessarily saps energy you could use for something that will enhance your life.

5. When it comes to the past, don't forget about it; just don't relive it every day.
6. Cry when you feel like it; you'll always feel better when you're done.
7. Empty the emotional reservoir regularly. When you hold everything in you become a human pressure cooker and you will, guaranteed, eventually explode. Sadly, when you do it's somehow always at the wrong time.
8. Accept that the only constant, other than God, you have in your life is change. Embrace it.
9. Know that you are here for, and your life has, a purpose. Pursue it with vigor until you know what it is, and when you do, live up to it until the day you die.
10. Build relationships and friendships throughout your life so at various points of transition, you'll always have someone to ask, "Remember when?"
11. Finally, learn to accept that ultimately, the truth is always the best gift you can give yourself, and everyone else.

These things, among others, are what I've learned in my length of years.  They are personal lessons, I know, but they are universal in that way that we all, as human brothers and sisters, share more in our human journey than we do not.  I'm committed to remembering these lessons every day of my life, because they keep me honest, happy and certain that there's more to this life than waking up every morning and going to bed at night.  There are all those things in between that matter, greatly, and I want to more actively appreciate those in-betweens with every breath I take.  Perhaps now, you may want to, too.