I Am My Own Cause

2012: Time To Grow Up

2011-12-28T18:15:00.001-05:00

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. . . .

2011-11-21T10:52:00.001-05:00

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

2011-10-06T09:30:00.001-04:00

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

2011-08-23T16:24:00.002-04:00

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

2011-07-14T13:07:00.001-04:00

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

2011-07-06T09:14:00.001-04:00

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

2011-06-23T10:33:00.001-04:00

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

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.
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.
Learn to be thankful for tough times and challenges; you'll be surprised by what the experiences can teach you about yourself, and others.
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.

When it comes to the past, don't forget about it; just don't relive it every day.
Cry when you feel like it; you'll always feel better when you're done.
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.
Accept that the only constant, other than God, you have in your life is change. Embrace it.
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.
Build relationships and friendships throughout your life so at various points of transition, you'll always have someone to ask, "Remember when?"
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.

What? Me, Worry?

2011-06-16T15:37:00.001-04:00

I can have a dozen great days and then, without warning, I have a day when worry overtakes me. It's part of my conditioning, much the same for everyone as it is for me.

Part of the conditioning is tied to expectation; another to impatience; and yet another still to discontent. Let me explain that a little more. I expect certain things and when they aren't happening the way I expect, I worry. And when it's not that, I worry that things are not happening when I expect them to. And, finally, when I realize that what I expect isn't happening when I expect, I face a full-on level of discontent that I allow me to push me over the edge, a free-fall into a sense of worry that consumes me, for a little while, until something happens that helps me realize how wasteful worrying is.

Make no mistake about it, worry is worthless. I challenge anyone to provide proof of any instance when worry has made a difference in anything for anyone. What worry does is wear you out, deepen wrinkles and leave you bereft of any hope for the present or future. Worry convinces us that hopelessness is more realistic than hopefulness, and it's a powerful behavior that lulls a lot of us into a sense of doom and gloom from which it is very, very difficult to escape.

Come on, you've been there. I know you have.

I had one of those days today. And the worry came on quickly. Before I knew it, I was anxious, my heart beat rapidly, my mind began to contemplate all the implications of the situation I was worried about. It wasn't long afterward that I felt so helpless that all I could do was pray. It was simply too much for me to handle myself. Everything that I worried about was bigger than I could handily manage, and there were no immediate answers I could provide in response to all the questions that flooded my mind. But it's when I get to that breaking point that I know the time has come to surrender it all to my God. For me, that's the answer to everything I face whether I'm worried, or not.

I learned a long time ago that despite how we tend to believe that when we have a problem, it's up to us to solve it ourselves, we do have other options. Worry, for me, isn't one of them. So when I get that first sense that worry is beginning to germinate, that it's time to turn the corner and leave it behind, I pray and pray some more until the burden of the worry--and it is a burden--is lifted. It doesn't matter when worry hits me or where. I take the steps to lift that burden before the weight of it breaks me.

As you can imagine, when I've been in a public place and the situation dictates that I begin praying and talking it out with God, I get a few side-eye glances and the behavior quickly generates its own share of worry and concern from those around me that, perhaps, I'm off my rocker. But I'm good with that. Better I be thought a little "off" than let worry take me over the edge, I say.

Writer Mary C. Crowley said, "Every evening I turn my worries over to God. He's going to be up all night anyway." It's become my motto, but with a slight adjustment. I turn my worries over to Him whenever they begin to trouble me, no matter what time of day. No matter where. It's the best way I know to focus on all the possibilities that lie ahead, versus the "ifs" worry--in its most aggressive form--will infect my spirit with if I allow it.

That's what worry becomes, after all, an insipid infection. The classic definition of infection is "the growth of a parasitic organism within the body." Worry is its emotional twin, in that it is the growth of a parasitic thought within the mind that, left unchecked, infects the spirit. Worry eats away at everything viable and worthy, leaving in its wake nothing of use nor benefit. When you think of it that way, it's amazing how easily we give ourselves over to worry, without a fight, until it consumes us.

Years ago I used to worry myself sick. Literally. But since then I've decided that whenever worry attacks me, I will fight it with everything I have at my disposal: Faith. Hope. Experience. I will pray the worry away by accepting that while I don't know the future, I do know I have the choice to decide how I will approach it. I choose to pursue being free from worry and, instead, accept that life presents both challenges and opportunities. Sometimes I'll win and sometimes I'll lose. I'll know happiness and I'll experience hurt. What I know is that life is what it is, and that's a rich and infinitely wondrous experience. It's a journey that will, if we allow it, provide us everything we need to live a productive, abundant length of years.

So while the days will come when the moments of worry threaten to undo all we've done and all we know and will yet experience, they are just days. They'll come and go. But when worry inevitably attacks, be prepared and PUSH: Pray Until Something Happens.

I'll guarantee you that when you do this enough, you'll learn walk your journey with an enlightened and blithe spirit, and you'll eventually appreciate that when you don't worry, you can actually be happy.

Keep Looking For The Good News. . .

2011-05-26T12:51:00.003-04:00

These are tough times.

There's simply no avoiding that fact. Truth is, I'm punch-drunk from the daily blows to the head and heart I receive that confirm just that. It's exhausting, this continuous assault on the senses. That's because when I hear about anything that affects other people, it affects me, too. I can't tune it out once I'm aware of it. The reports about the recent tornadoes in Joplin, Missouri and the loss of life and property breaks my heart. I am at a loss to understand how politics turns into personal hatred and leads to name-calling and other incivility in the pursuit of power. I tear up every time there's another report of a murder on the streets of Washington, DC, another child or young person placed in the system with no place to call home, and when newspapers prepare another "Faces of the Fallen" feature to show us images of all the people we've lost to war. And when headlines about human rights abuses across the globe sear into my very consciousness, I hurt for the people, everywhere, and try not to constantly imagine the suffering they endure.

There are times, to be honest, when it's all too much.

Obviously, when it comes to the world we live in there's a certain human responsibility each of us has to know what's going on, not only as it relates to our own lives, but in the world. I began my professional life as a journalist and to a degree still fancy myself one. I believe in telling our stories so that people can judge the truth for themselves. But lately, I've grown increasingly certain the news business is only interested in stories that speak to the worst of the human condition, versus the best of it, and it concerns me.

Everyone needs good news. But in recent years it's been nearly impossible to find any news that doesn't promote the idea that everything happening on the planet is just awful, painful, wrong, deadly, evil or any of a number of other adjectives that summarily tell us that the world has gone to Hell in a hand basket. And speaking of Hell (and to prove my point) just last weekend everyone jumped on the bandwagon and reported that the world was, indeed, coming to an end based on a second prediction (the first one didn't happen, either) of a doomsday prophet named Harold Camping.

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. The feeding-frenzy to report everything of negative consequence says something about who we are becoming, and that, too, isn't good news: We expect less of humanity than we should. We're more misanthropic than humanitarian. Well, at least that's how it appears, if you believe what you read and watch.

To prove that point, I undertook an unscientific experiment to learn whether "good" news has any place in the news today. Now, for the sake of clarity I consider "good" news to be anything that speaks to a positive outcome arising out of otherwise difficult or "bad" circumstances. The other requirement is that the good news be something that could happen to anyone, anywhere, and equally appreciated by the same people.

I turned to my local newspaper, The Washington Post, for three days beginning May 24 and ending today, May 26. I limited my search to the Page 1 section, also known as the news section. I reviewed the pages thoroughly during the three days, looking for any stories that had more of a tendency to inspire than depress the consciousness.

The result? If I believed what I read, then World, we've got a problem.

Story after story of war, political infighting, murder, economic disparity, crime, tornado-based destruction and all manner of hope-squelching coverage was what I found. Every story filled me with anxiety, made me question what's becoming of us, and gave me reason to get up and pour myself a double Bourbon if I'd had any in the house.

Then, I found something. A small Digest article in the May 24 issue from New York, where a "newborn tossed down a Brooklyn housing project's trash chute survived the eight-story fall because he landed on a pile of garbage and the compactor was jammed, investigators said." Finally! I thought. Something amid all the messages of chaos and destruction that offered a pause from the feeling of helplessness I had at that moment. It was the kind of news about a positive outcome, despite painful circumstances, that was a blessed buffer against all the other bad news that filled all the Page 1 sections, three days in a row. It's the type of story that made me say, "Thank God," when I read it and believe that there's always a greater force at work in the world, despite all the painful "news" reported on each day.

That's when I realized something. Something big: There's always good news available to us; we just have to look for it.

I'm a guy with a strong, positive outlook virtually 99 percent of the time. The other 1 percent of the time I'm working through my issues by reminding myself of what I already know. A lot of that has to do with the fact that I've lived through some things that taught me a lot about attitude. Early on, everything I knew seemed to always promise more of the same, and the "same" in this instance was never good stuff. I've spoken about being poor, homeless and hungry here before so I won't do it again. But those experiences, had I not had grown to appreciate the truth about the power of attitude and faith in my life, would have scarred my outlook forever. I easily could've concluded that life never gets better, only worse. But I didn't. That's because experience has taught me just the opposite, and it gets better every day.

It's knowledge that changed me, forever. Suffice it to say that today I don't believe anything that happens can destroy you unless that's the choice you make. There's simply too much truth to the contrary in my life and within the lives of so many others, for me to believe anything else. That said, I'm no Pollyanna. If I were to label myself, I'd have to say I'm a realistic optimist, meaning that I know life can be hard, but then again, it's life, and that's what matters.

Being centered in this belief, I tend to see possibilities in everything. And with rare exception, I'm able to steer clear of becoming a person who expects the worst, and generally gets it, because I don't approach my life with anything other than a sense of awe and gratitude. On the other hand, not everyone has found their way to that place. And believe me, getting there is work, and work that continues every day. But when I think about people who are unable to find the good news in their lives and the world, I think they must begin each day with a perspective like that of Evilene, the wicked witch from The Wiz, the Broadway play based on The Wizard of Oz, when she sang "Don't Nobody Bring Me No Bad News":

"When I wake up in the afternoon

Which it pleases me to do

Don't nobody bring me no bad news

'Cause I wake up already negative

And I've wired up my fuse

So don't nobody bring me no bad news."

To be clear, I don't want anyone bringing me "no bad news," either. There's already plenty to go around and good news is definitely hard to come by through standard sources, as I think I've established here. But again, so much of what you find depends on where you look. Good news does exist in your life and the world, but are you searching for it only in expected people, places or circumstances? That's a question everyone really needs to answer.

So, where is it? Well, the more appropriate question might be, "Where isn't it?" C'mon, you know this! If I could speak with everyone about finding the good news in their lives, I'd tell them begin with acknowledging the tried-and-true: the fact that you're alive. That's the best news you can get to inspire you to search for more. Then, once you embrace that, go elsewhere and look. Look hard. If you can't find it in the newspapers, on television or even via the Internet, keep looking. That's what I do. And what I've found is that good news is all around me, everywhere, and all I have to do to access it is appreciate what I already have. Remember what I've lived through. Be thankful for my journey so far and the journey I'm blessed to take with the start of each new day. These are not grand realizations, people, but they do matter beyond any riches or other measures you will ever come up with.

Another way I discover good news is to talk with people--about whatever happens to be the subject on which we land. When I talk with people, I am able to share in the joys of their lives, the challenges and hardships, great and small, and know that there's a power in being heard, engaged and actualized in the span of moments that reminds us all of how interconnected we are and how much alike we are when those areas in which we're unalike cease to matter.

Think about it. How many times have you been having what you consider a bad day when a kind word or a simple hand on the shoulder from another person helps you put things in perspective? Too many to count, I bet. And you know what? Simple acts of human kindness like these, which symbolize that you matter, are among the best pieces of news you can receive. It's news that has meaning and purpose, and teaches us about a world that exists beyond the headlines in the newspaper and the lead stories on television.

But, inevitably, when the headlines of your life's news mirror those of the world reported in newspapers and on television, take heart. I remind you again, it's not as bad as it seems. As my little experiment proved, there's good news there, somewhere. I just want you to keep searching for it.

That's especially important now. As I said at the outset of this post, things are tough. Life is hard and appears to be getting harder. It's no wonder so many people are angry, hopeless and uninspired. But that's perception, not truth. The reason things seem so dark these days are because, I believe, we've forgotten that we have the power to adjust our attitude to adapt to virtually anything. Our parents and their parents before them did it. Nations of people have done so. And when times are tough, when the news that influences our lives is bad, we've always found ways to accept that what we are unable to change today can fade away tomorrow. That's who we are.

The best news, of course, is that you are aware--as an individual--that the storms we weather and the challenges we face are only part of the story of our lives. The more compelling parts involve the way we overcome these things. These are the details that inspire us to try harder; the amazing feats of human will that makes us believe that nothing is impossible; the power of one person to change a world by choosing to use their voice to speak their truth. This, I know, is the good news. It is everything and anything that remind us of all the little miracles that happen, every day. The good news are the moments when you are certain of your purpose and how you are connected to the world and how everyone in the world is connected to you. It's that story that gets you up in the morning and keeps you going. It's the story of everything that life is, and isn't. Imperfect and perfect. The good news is an understanding that the imperfections, while they exist, don't outweigh the perfection of God's love for us. They don't diminish the strength and courage He gives us; won't render irrelevant the lessons of the trials we endure; and can't block blessings we will receive throughout our lives. That's the truth.

So when it all seems too much, as it will, stay strong. Continue this journey of a lifetime and commit to knowing the whole story, the story that is yours as an individual and as a member of the human race. And no matter what, keep looking for the good news. It's always available to you.

Nothing Beats A Trial But A Try

2011-05-17T19:54:00.001-04:00

I've been fortunate to learn that the end of one thing is always the beginning of something else. It's easy to want to label the end and beginning as either good or bad, but I have embraced a different way of seeing life's inevitable transitions. For me, they're neither good nor bad; they're just a reminder of our responsibility to keep on trying.

Trying, in my book, is important. Not enough has been written about the simplicity of it, the commitment it takes or the power it has to shift perspectives and change outcomes.   All my youth I was repeatedly told by my mom, whenever I or my family faced hard times or difficulties, "Nothing beats a trial but a try."

Trying is the gift that keeps on giving, if we allow it to be, although many of us don't when the going gets tough. I'm not saying that most people are fair-weather optimists, but throughout history we humans have shown ourselves capable of embracing possibility only when we determine a desired outcome is a sure bet. We speak of faith and trust in all the ways that have become popular--in churches, self-help classes and on Face Book and Twitter--but that's socially driven behavior that has nothing to do with what we really believe or how we deal with things. What we don't tell people is that in private, uncertainty and doubt enter our world and all we want to do is crawl into the bed and sleep until all the problems go away. And when they don't go away a lot of us begin lose it. Our faith, our religion, our spirituality and everything that goes along with it.

After being assaulted enough by whatever it is that is our burden at the time--whether it be financial, emotional, physical, etc.--some folks stop believing altogether. It seems gone, in less than 60 seconds.

The pronouncements about staying the course, fighting the good fight and trusting in God give way to statements like "Life's a bitch, then you die," and "If God's watching over us then he's forgotten about me." Hopelessness sets in, faith evaporates and trust in anything but more of the same hardship turn us into people who just don't give a damn and see no reason, whatsoever, to even try getting beyond this sense of defeat.

I get it. I've been there. But I found my way back.

That's why when I experience or hear about anyone giving up, I know that if they only took a moment to appreciate the complex series of actions that occur every morning that result in our being able to live yet another day, they would make a different choice. The experience of being alive and the awesome fact that it happens, without fail, for years is the most inspiring thing I can think of.   Waking up is like a vote of confidence in our ability to handle what will happen that day, and  no matter what we face, no matter how we're hurting or how unsure we are of almost everything, we get this chance to live our lives and, in doing so, respond to life's implied question: "You're here. Now what are you going to do about it?"

My mom, Clara, always used to look at people who complained to her about this or that and say, "Child, life sure can be wasted on the living." I'd ask what she meant since I didn't understand how that could be possible and she'd say, "People don't realize that as long as they're here, everything can change. Instead, they spend all their time complaining about what isn't when they should be happy about what is."

I hear that conversation in my head a lot these days, because in my own life I'm searching for new work and focusing my energies on remaining motivated while doing so. There are parts of me that were under the impression that I would've found the right position by now and already be working . That was my idea, anyway. But it's taking time. More time than I'd imagined. There are moments when doubt creeps in, when I question whether the decision I made to leave one job to pursue another was the right one, and a whole lot of fear about how long it will be before I land that next opportunity.

The reality is that I have no answers. I can't point to a date on the calendar and simply determine that date will be the one someone makes me an offer. As a guy who has always worked, this is hard. It's humbling.  But it's what I am required to accept until something changes.

There are days when I get a little down. Days when I get overwhelmed because things aren't happening faster. And there's the temptation to start running scared and let desperation settle in and stay, indefinitely. But I am not built to remain in that place very long. I wake up every day intent on taking advantage of the opportunity I have to try to make that day the one I get the job I desire. I use the ample time I have available to me now to work out, lose weight and regain an overall sense of health and fitness. I do this because it's the way I can do something to help me be at my best when interviews are scheduled. It's how I'm trying to make sure that when I  get such an opportunity, I'll walk in and be able to confidently present myself.

I use moments of silence during my day to meditate on what I hope for and dream of. I reconnect with lessons about enduring challenges and overcoming obstacles that I've learned throughout my life, each of which encourages me when I could easily give in to a sense of defeat. When I'm uninspired, I find ways to inspire myself, whether by turning to others and their stories, reading the words of wise people who show me a different way of looking at things, or by speaking with the people in my life who remind me of what I already know, but in ways that inspire my resolve, anew.

What I don't do is give up--ever.   I believe that no matter what, the daily gift of life we receive requires we show our appreciation by continually trying our best in the face of challenge, even when the world and people and circumstances have exhausted us to the point of almost breaking our spirit.   As Henry Ford once said, "Life is a series of experiences, each one of which makes us bigger, even though it is hard to realize this. For the world was built to develop character, and we must learn that the setbacks and griefs which we endure help us in our marching onward."

Now, I don't for even a second compare my problems, issues and challenges with those of others. It'd be ill-advised to do so. As I focus on finding work, I realize there's no comparison with the problems of people who have lost everything to a flood. When I concern myself with my cholesterol reading I would be insensitive to even speak of it when there are families mourning the loss of loved ones.. And when I think about how I'm spending my savings to pay for the lease on my apartment, I am fully aware that there are folks unable to pay the mortgage on their homes, facing foreclosure and the possibility of having nowhere to live. I ache for them all. But what I know is that even among these people there are stories of how some have risen above the conditions and circumstances, and found a reason to go on. They are unbowed and unbroken, despite what has happened to them, and they inspire me and should inspire you, too, wherever you are at the moment--no matter how dark and scary that place might be.

In writing today I'm speaking to everyone who has lost the desire to fight. I'm imploring each person who has opted to just let the problems you face eat you alive, sap your enthusiasm and dim your sense of hope. I'm encouraging the hopeless to look beyond the challenge that keeps you up at night, even if all you've known in life has been one challenge after another.   Finally, I'm praying that you always find the courage to try to believe that your life has both value and purpose, even when you're not sure what that value and purpose may be.

These are challenging, hard and painful times for everyone. That's right, everyone. Truth is, you can't look at a person and know what they're dealing with or going through, but you can be sure that chances are there is something they're contending with. Whatever it is, it may seem smaller than your problem or bigger than your problem, but that doesn't matter. Problems are relative, you see, so none of us are in the position to judge who is better- or worse-off than we are. All we can do is accept that no one is immune from difficulty. No one escapes loss. Everyone is going through something.

That fact, and that fact alone, is what binds us across humanity. And it's what gives us the greatest opportunity we have to put our own lives in context by forcing us to ask the question, "If people all over the world go through hell and some come out on the other side, what's stopping me from doing the same?" Ask yourself the question enough and you'll realize the only thing standing in your way is, well, you. Only you can give up. Only you can stop trying. And only you can decide to live hopefully and purposefully, even when hard times come along and make you wonder whether life itself is worth it.

Which brings me to my next point. I'm not sure who said this, but when I read it via a Face Book post some time ago, I'm glad someone did. I wrote it down knowing someday, I'd share it with someone. Today, I'm sharing it with you because when you need to inspire yourself, this will help you do it:

"Be the kind of person who when your feet hit the floor each morning the Devil says, 'Oh, crap, he's up!' Life is too valuable to wake up with regrets. So love the people who treat you well. Forgive the ones who don't, just because you can. Believe everything happens for a reason. And if you get a second chance, grab it with both hands. If it changes your life, let it. Take a few minutes to think before you act when you're angry. Oh, and forgive quickly. God never said life would be easy. He just promised it would be worth it."

Try this in the morning, and every day thereafter. When you're not inspired by anything, look for ways to inspire yourself. Look to the inspiring people and events and circumstances all around you. Look to the blessings you've received and those you've given. Remember what you've lived through that you didn't think you would.   But if after doing all this you still feel as if you're going through Hell right now, just keep on going. Keep on going until you find the way out.

For Annie Nelson, Supporting The Troops Isn't Just Something To Say; It's Something To Do

2011-04-11T06:09:00.003-04:00

Annie Nelson is indomitable. As the founder of the American Soldier Network (ASN) she is an advocate for members of the military who fights to raise campaign funds to increase national awareness and support for American troops, particularly through reminding Americans of the importance of letting the troops know, directly, how appreciative we are of their service and—all too often—their sacrifice. Annie is a survivor who faced a frightening diagnosis with grace, fortitude and faith and lived to tell about it. And she is a voice for common sense, understanding and hopefulness in a world where others take a stand in favor of one idea or another without regard for the greater good.

I met Annie several years ago when she was executive director of a non-profit with which I worked as a sponsor. Her enthusiasm and infection interest in others was evident then as it is now. In fact, it was getting to know a solider who’d been injured by a suicide bomber in Iraq 2004 that led to the creation of ASN after the friendship helped her realize the need for an organization dedicated to the troops’ need for connectivity to the people they were fighting for.

ASN, born of the “faith and friendship by two people who shared tears, fears, tragedies and triumphs” from afar, is now responsible for creating fundraising campaigns, recognition programs and a host of other initiatives all designed to make sure members of the military no longer wonder whether the folks back home understand and appreciate what it takes to serve. Annie is a link between the world in which they live and the one they’re fighting for, reaching out to the average citizen, celebrities and corporate leaders in support of ASN’s mission. While it took some time to reach this point, Annie never wavered in believing in the troops or the work ASN could do on their behalf. That is why she’s indomitable.

I connected with Annie a few weeks ago to learn more about ASN’s work, how’s she’s doing these months after a major surgery, what role faith and hope play in her life and to get her thoughts on a few other subjects, as well. It was quite a conversation. . .

CP: You've been involved in non-profit work for a while. Tell me about some of the things you've done before ASN.

AN: I have always been involved in entertainment and sports. After a brief stint pursuing a sports broadcasting career I fell into event management. A lot of my pro athlete friends had asked me to assist them in fund raising events such as golf tournaments, bowling events, galas and the like. Word of mouth traveled fast and I found I was event planning for many folks and a good percentage of them were non-profit organizations. I decided to load my tool box so I went back to upper graduate certificate program at UCI (University of California Irvine) and completed my certificate in Non Profit Fund Raising. I had so many clients seeking guidance from me in board development, marketing, volunteer development as well as events it made sense to earn the certificate in order to better serve my clients. Just prior to my full- speed-ahead crusade with the American Soldier Network I was the Executive Director of the HollyRod Foundation in Beverly Hills CA.

CP: What made you want to work in the non-profit world?

AN: I never really wanted or thought about it really. It picked me. By circumstances that lead to me working for friends with organizations that were close to them I ended up building a reputation and experiences in the non-profit arena.

CP: Tell me about ASN. How did it come about and why?

AN: Honestly I knew NOTHING about our military. After the events of 9/11 I felt compelled to do something, but what? I began a pen pal relationship with 3 Marines who were stationed at Camp Pendleton, CA. These young men were from Illinois, where my family is originally from. The young man I became the closest with, Cpl. Jesse Schertz, became a huge part of my life for more than 6 months. He was hit by a suicide bomber in Iraq on 12/22/2004. He was sitting back-to-back with my other pen pal, Tyler Ziegel. The events of that horrific day in Iraq eventually led to a life-changing experience for me and the birth of the American Soldier Network.

CP: What are your programs and initiatives?

AN: The television medium is the one form most everyone in this country has and uses. It is extremely expensive to produce programs and make sure they air. The goals of the American Soldier Network are to raise campaign funds from both private and corporate sectors to raise national awareness and support for our troops. Our vision is to accomplish this through television. We explore the needs and challenges of all our veterans and urge all Americans to support them by telling their stories.

Throughout the year we reach out and thank our troops who are returning home in many ways. At Christmas we provide gifts for our wounded. This Easter we are creating cards and sending boxes of “goodies” for a deployed unit that has been hit hard in Afghanistan. We travel and interact with veterans of all ages, spreading a message of gratitude and concern to ensure we remain connected to their needs, and respond. We also use Eddy and Hazel, the “Patriotic Pups” to educate and promote patriotism and an appreciation for our veterans and currently serving military to young people.

CP: How does ASN support its mission and how can we help?

AN: At this time we have zero staff. We do not have an annual budget to support a staff. More than 60% of what we raise goes back out to the troops/veterans in outreach. Spreading the word of our work by sharing our web site www.americansoldiernetwork.org, having folks follow us on Face Book at our fan page (American Soldier Network) and on Twitter at (forRtroops) helps. Of course, we need money just like every other organization out there. This is a tough economy; individuals can't make charitable donations when they are living paycheck to paycheck, so helping get our name in front of more people is a way folks can help. Speaking to organizations about ASN at events in the community is another thing we do. You never know who you will touch through sharing with others. We believe the right corporate partner, producer, or network executive is “out there” who will learn about our work, "get it" and help us achieve our goals.

CP: Does ASN take political positions or engage in any political action in support of soldiers?

AN: Due to our 501c3 status we are not allowed to get involved in political issues.

CP: We hear people frequently say they don't support the war but they support the troops. How do you respond to that?

AN: How can you support the men/women who are putting their lives on the line everyday in something you say you don't support and yet support them? You don't have to "like" the war or the politics around conflicts we find our military sent to become involved in, but to truly support our troops you have to unconditionally support them, in their family life, personal life, work life, all of it. I honestly don't think anyone with a heart "likes" war. War is not a happy, feel-good thing. Peace is always the goal but wars have been fought since the creation of man. Providing our troops with the proper equipment, food, shelter, transportation, weapons, and everything they need to do their job? That is supporting them. Make sense?

CP: Soldiers returning home today face unemployment, endure severe mental health challenges, skyrocketing healthcare premiums and a host of other issues that they shouldn’t given their service to the nation and its people. What does this say to you?

AN: It says anyone who calls America home or lives and or works here in America needs to take notice of all the needs of our veterans. It says that we should all thank them on a daily basis and demand that our government and elected officials and civilians do all they can to help them. The only RIGHT thing to do, and it is NOT political, is to embrace our veterans, thank them for their selfless sacrifices and make sure they are welcomed home and they and their families are provided for.

CP: There's a lot of misconception about the issues soldiers face. I think we all understand the risk of the ultimate sacrifice each undertakes, but what else don't we know about the lives of soldiers, but during service and post-service that would surprise us?

AN: Today, we have an ALL VOLUNTEER military! Our enlistment numbers are high, which means in a time of war, the brave men and women who are VOLUNTEERING to serve in the United States Armed Forces know exactly what they are signing up for. That is a tremendous level of dedication and a call that a number of Americans couldn’t imagine answering. Our military is more than 1.4 million active duty strong and we have more than 845,000 members in our reserves. The age of our military is 17-62. We are the 2nd largest military in the world, second only to China, yet we serve the world not just the USA.

CP: I can't even look at the newspaper when they run the "Faces of the Fallen" section. It hurts too much. How do you deal with the connections your make with real and living people and the possibility they will be lost to us forever? What's the emotional toll and how do you get past it so that you can continue doing the work you do?

AN: Our troops lay it on the line every day. Anything I can do to give back to them is so minor compared to the sacrifices they make and the sacrifices of their families. It's not about me; if it were then sure, I would not want to get involved because it is not comfortable to know there are a lot of unpleasant things I may see, pain I may feel when I make hospital visits and comfort a grieving family member. Realizing that being there for them, supporting them, in good times and bad seems so minor compared to the lives they lead. Remembering everything they are doing is what makes the difference for me. I truly feel I am just a vehicle being used by a higher power (God) to make sure there are folks out here to honor and thank our veterans and active members of the military. So, keeping it real and not about me keeps me on this crusade. I am honored to do all I can for them.

CP: What role does your faith play in believing in your mission? Talk about that a little for me.

AN: A major role. For me, it’s simple: Forsaking All I Trust Him

CP: Speaking of faith, you've endured some challenging health issues that could easily shake your faith. Tell me about those and whether you questioned your faith during that time.

AN: Last summer I ended up in the emergency room with headaches that were horrible, causing me to vomit uncontrollably. I was diagnosed with a very large brain tumor that required surgery. I was supposed to lose my hearing in my right ear, lose the vision in my right eye, lose the facial muscle control in the right side of my face and possible have vocal problems due to the size and location of my tumor. The surgery was over 10 hours. I never once questioned my faith; as a matter of fact, I was the only calm person in my circle of support. I actually ended up comforting those around me who were scared for me during this time. It’s funny how I was facing the potential end of my life but wound up encouraging others to get out there and make the most of theirs.

I could do that because I had a tremendous sense of calm about the surgery and knew that somehow, I would be fine. It would be a long haul, but I would only lose the hearing in my right ear. Don't ask me exactly how I knew, but I just did. In so many ways, I truly believe I am a vehicle for God’s work. He uses me daily, not only through the message he imparts by the way he brought me through my health issues, but by the way he helps me face other challenges, as well. Sure, these challenges are not pleasant to go through, but they each make me a stronger person with an understanding and appreciation of the circumstances and situations that others will endure. My brain tumor and the last 6 months have provided me insights that allow me to better understand what our wounded warriors, many who have head injuries, go through. That’s a blessing. So. . . all in His time and for His purpose is what I believe. I guess I just knew He wasn't done with my work yet.

CP: Considering your life, in terms of everything that you've learned and know for certain, what is most important to you now?

AN: My walk while here on this earth.

CP: What's the biggest lesson you've every learned and how did it change you?

AN: Life is precious. My Dad was and is my hero! I am an only child and am Daddy's girl. When he died in 2002, life as I knew it changed. That profound loss is something that I live with daily. Not only did that teach me how short, fragile and precious this life is. It made me take note of what I really wanted to accomplish while living. My personal mission statement is "Ignite Faith" in all I do. I strive to be an example of how living by faith not only gives you a peaceful and joyful life; it helps you make the very most of your time on Earth.

CP: Do you consider yourself a teacher? Why or why not?

AN: Hmmm. . . a teacher? So many people come to me for advice, counsel and guidance. I am a good listener; I offer what I feel are good, sound ethical choices. I try to never tell someone "what" to do or "what is right". I just offer encouragement the best I can. If you consider that a "teacher" then I guess yes, I would rather consider myself more of a cheerleader. I sure don't have all the answers and don't know it all. I have been blessed with a lot of life experience which have helped me share, encourage and inspire others in the different stages of their lives.

CP: What's your take on the recent Homeland Security Committee hearings focused on Muslim extremism? Necessary or scary? Why?

AN: Exploring all aspects of any and all threats to our national security and to the security of our troops serving all over the world, you have to educate and learn everything you can. I think it is scary how the media blows things out of proportion and exploits so many important issues, including the goal behind this one. Most of what you and I read, hear or see on our television is not unbiased truth. When there are radical groups of human beings out there who want to kill and destroy Americans just because they are Americans, I feel those we have elected to protect and defend us should do everything possible to keep us all safe.

CP: What's your favorite word?

AN: Love

CP: What's your least-favorite word?

AN: Hate

CP: If you could make one lasting change the world-over, what would it be and why?

AN: Ignite faith and appreciation to all who cross my path. Domestically ignite more patriotism within every American.

CP: What person do you admire and why?

AN: My Mom. My parents were from modest beginnings; both made the very most of life and always lent a helping hand to others. My Mom is a vibrant widow who has endured a lot in her life and yet has truly impacted the lives of many people in very positive ways. She is a strong, courageous, loving, beautiful woman inside and out. Her steadfast faith is so apparent and her living by example is something I strive to emulate.

CP: What's your truth and how does it influence your life?

AN: When life gets crazy and I don't stop and let go, I get out of the way and let God do what he does best. Stress is unnecessary when you live this way. So for me, I know that if we’re faithful and carry on, with God all things are truly possible.

CP: What's the one thing you want the world to know that, if they pay attention and accept it, can change the world for the better?

AN: Stop being so selfish; it's not all about you. We all only have a short time here; we all breathe the same air, we are all members of the human race, so go out there and seek others who need more than you do and make a difference in someone else's life. Appreciate the many blessings you have. Each of us has many blessings--when you wake up breathing and are given another day, that in itself is a blessing. Make the most of it!

To learn more about ASN, provide financial support, volunteer or see a listing up upcoming programs or events, visit http://americansoldiernetwork.org.

Coming April 11: American Soldier Network Founder Annie Nelson

2011-04-09T07:33:00.000-04:00

The Habit of Habit

2011-04-04T11:35:00.000-04:00

I have a bad habit of being a creature of habit.

There was a time when I considered this a good thing, and I still do, but not always. My habit of having habits has made me somewhat predictable, you see, in some very toxic ways. I have a habit of interrupting people when they're talking, for instance, because my mind is always rushing forward and I tend to want to say what's on my mind before I lose the thought. I've become better at controlling this behavior over the years but I still succumb to it from time to time, despite knowing it's a habit not worth having.

Everybody has something they're in the habit of that they'd prefer not to be. All the proof we need of this is on television in the form of disconcerting reality programs devoted to hoarding, addiction, relationships and all manner of practices born of addictive behavior. But is what we see art imitating life, or the other way around? It's a question we should consider. Really.

I know that despite the over-dramatization of certain subjects there is the requisite kernel of truth embedded within the story lines of this kind of programming. There's always a not-so-obvious reason, a trigger of some kind, that results in the focused-upon behavior. And always--virtually 100 percent of the time--it's based upon habit.

Overeating and gaining weight. Trust issues. Being unable to let go of the past. Accepting less in life because we feel unworthy. The habit of doubting ourselves and our abilities. Believing we don't matter and can't be loved. All of these are things that manifest themselves as behavioral habits that hurt more than help us, yet that we engage in because we're in the habit of doing so. And the more we get in that habit the less abundant the life we lead becomes. We feel mired in the muck of limited expectations and convince ourselves that the life we have is the life we deserve, even when we know we're unhappy with it. We get in the habit of calling ourselves realists when, in fact, we've only gotten in the habit of refusing to dream because we believe doing so only leads to disappointment.

The way this behavior becomes habit is insidious, actually, because it occurs under the radar. Often unknowingly, we cede little parts of our innate sense of hope, or our gift of faith, to the habit of protecting ourselves from disappointment every time the world hands us a defeat.   Before we know it, we simply have no hope and our faith is so broken we don't care to repair the damage. The habit, now formed, makes us think "Why bother?" when we should be asking ourselves "Why not?" about anything we're considering that could enhance our lives.

Samuel Johnson, an English author, poet and essayist once said: "The chains of habit are generally too small to be felt until they are too strong to be broken."   Truer words, right? I've been there. So have you. Everyone, in fact, has something that has chained them or chains them to a habit they're in the habit of engaging in.   But I'm here to tell ya that while it's hard to break an old habit that hurts you, the best way to do so is to replace it with a new, beneficial habit that speaks positively to your spirit and frees your soul.

I don't care what area of your life finds you in the habit of doing yourself no good. It simply doesn't matter. Career. Relationships. Finances. The body/health you have versus the body/health you want. Self-esteem. You pick the area, I'll tell you the same thing: Replace a bad habit with a good one.

Now, for those of us who are so adept at engaging in our bad habit of having habits, this isn't easy, but it is possible.   I know myself so well, for instance, I learned how to give myself the impression that I'm focused on my lifelong nemesis--my weight--by signing up for personal training, going to the gym regularly and eating better. On the outside it looks right, but on the inside it feels wrong. That's because it's my habit to keep up the appearance of having a commitment without really committing to it; not enough that I actually succeed at what I'm doing, that is.

Instead, I do just enough: no more, no less. And the result is always the same:  I'm nowhere near where I wanna be in terms of my weight or the shape I'm in, and the fault is mine. It's not my lack of a Thyroid gland or issues with my slow metabolism.   It's not that I can't lose weight or eat right. It's my habit of engaging in the same habit, time and again, that stands in the way of my progress. I know this, but no one else does. It's a habit I've had for years and it's the reason I've battled weight issues most of my adult life. I don't commit, but act like I do.

Replace my weight battles with your own issue in the above scenario and you will likely find yourself in the same space. And if you do, you know what a damned shame it is that you're here. The only way out is to accept that if we want things to change we have to change things.

But to create that change, we have to get out of our own way.

We're typically the biggest obstacles in our own lives. We can blame a lot of other people, circumstances or events, but the truth is that when it comes to most of the difficulties in our lives it's not generally external forces that keep us down--we do most of it all by ourselves. That's why when it comes to habits, it's better to begin with the devil you know than the one you don't.

Who's in the best position to know who we are, how we think and how we manipulate ourselves through habit than we are?   As a result, who is in a  better position to break our bad habits than we who created the habits in the first place?   Not a soul. That's why after learning what I've been doing for years, how expertly I've manipulated myself through force of habit, I've used my familiarity with my own habitual tendencies to move beyond the habits that have been keeping me from the life I want. I'm not done, by any means, for it's an ongoing process. But I work at replacing bad habits with good ones every day, some days more successfully than others. Fail at times though I might, I don't stop and won't stop, not as long as each new day offers yet another opportunity to try.   As I mentioned, my weight issues are at the top of that list of habits right now, and my goal is to, once and for all, replace my timid intentions with bold actions that I can commit to for the rest of my life. Whatever you habitual "something" is, the time has come for you to make a commitment, too. And the time is nigh.

Experts say it usually takes about 21 days to replace an old habit with a new one. Perhaps so. But I know I'm not basing my expectations on that timetable. It'll take the time it takes, and that's OK. I used to be in the habit of believing a schedule is a schedule for a reason, and that changing a set schedule was simply unacceptable. But when you live long enough, experience enough and have appreciated the lessons you've learned enough, there's an acceptance that adaptability in all things is not only realistic, but necessary.   If nothing else, life is a series of adaptations, isn't it? That's why as of now, I'm in the habit of having no real habits, save for one: the habit of dwelling in possibility, always.

Leaders Of WEEN Say Empowered Women Inspire Change, Each Other

2011-03-28T05:50:00.000-04:00

When I was a kid I remember a cartoon that appeared in a publication I can’t remember titled, “Women Are Wonderful”. Even then it wasn’t an idea I disagreed with. I’ve always found it easier to appreciate the approach women take to life compared to my own gender. One thing I know for sure, women certainly cut through the BS much more effectively than guys do. Maybe it’s because of that unique difference in the way they think versus how we think. Maybe it’s the fact that owning their emotions enables them to empty the emotional reservoir more frequently, which in turn allows them to just “put themselves out there” for better or worse. I can’t be exactly sure, but whatever it is about women, I appreciate the way women support, befriend and show loyalty toward those for whom they care. I guess that’s why with few exceptions, most of my close friends are women.

Being a friend to a woman affords certain benefits (get your mind out of the gutter) that have helped me change the way I define my own life. In many ways, these friendships have helped me strike a balance between the logical and emotional sides of my brain so that I am not more one than the other, but well-balanced in terms of both. I consider this a gift.

What I know, through my conversations and interaction is that it is tough being a woman today. Let me clarify that. It’s tough being what society expects a woman to be. Depending on politics, culture and a host of other determinants, women are supposed to be mother, lover, partner, trailblazer, role model, successful, powerful, nurturing, strong, independent and a variety of other adjectives that never ends. As the role of women is debated, flipped and renegotiated to meet expectations, the women I’ve come to admire most have always staked claim to their womanhood by first owning their individuality. Once they knew and accepted who they really were, I discovered, they also were able to decide who they would be in the world.

Elizabeth Taylor, who died at 79 last week, was that type of woman. Oprah Winfrey, another. Hilary Clinton. My own mom, Clara, who once told my sister when she asked whether it was tougher to raise boys or girls: “Girls, definitely. Because you have to raise them to be strong and smart enough to deal with men.”

When I was younger and less evolved, I took that comment on the chin. I mean, I felt guys have issues with expectations and perceptions, too. It’s not like gender makes everything easier, I thought. But in the years I’ve lived since, I have discovered, much to my chagrin, that being a man can make certain things easier than if I were a woman. That’s just the truth.

So it should come as no surprise that as part of my continuing journey, I’ve become very open to standing with women in challenging convention and addressing the gender issues that would otherwise get in the way of their forward progress. I applaud when any “first” happens for a woman, but realize I won’t be able to acknowledge any true success in the fight for equality until there are no more “firsts” to celebrate.

There are a number of organizations, advocates and scholars who consistently work to make sure that happens. Many of the leaders are recognizable by name. That’s a good thing. But what most excites me, as it does with any effort designed to affect change, is when I get to witness, firsthand, the work of less-visible but equally forceful organizations that are doing great things. A few years back, I came across such a group. It’s called the Women in Entertainment Empowerment Network (WEEN). And it is led by two talented, courageous and passionate young women, each of whom I learned had taken an unexpected journey to their leadership of the organization.

Valeisha Butterfield is the co-founder and chair of the organization’s national board of directors and Sabrina Thompson is the vice chair. The leadership team is rounded out by Kristi Henderson, co-founder, and founding members Lauren Lake and MC Lyte. Like the entire leadership team, Butterfield and Thompson are accomplished, connected, smart, beautiful and dedicated to fulfilling their promise and helping other women do the same.

One of WEEN's current projects designed to do that, in fact, could help someone become a star.

WEEN, in partnership with Time Warner Cable, has announced the launch of "Born to Shine" -- a multi-platform marketing campaign dedicated to showcasing the impact African Americans continue to make within the entertainment industry and the community. The campaign features a national contest to identify four aspiring television personalities to host a "Born to Shine" talk show series, which will be available on Time Warner Cable On Demand this Fall. WEEN and Time Warner Cable are searching for four aspiring television hosts for the talk show series.

Each of the winners will host an individual episode featuring African Americans who are paving the way in areas of pop culture, television, film, sports, music and the community. The guests will share their lessons learned and success stories for viewers to glean from to pursue their own personal goals.
To enter the "Born to Shine" Contest, participants can upload a three-minute audition video on the "Born to Shine" Facebook page (www.facebook.com/twcableborntoshine) beginning March 7 through April 30. Online submissions will be voted on by Facebook fans and judged by industry insiders and Time Warner Cable executives. Participants can also enter the contest by auditioning at live casting call events in Charlotte, N.C. and New York City.

The panel of judges for the casting calls will include a combination of celebrities, industry executives and Time Warner Cable executives. The four winners will be determined from a select pool of online and live casting call auditions in May.

For more information on the program, casting calls and official rules of the "Born to Shine" Contest, please visit www.facebook.com/twcableborntoshine.

"Born To Shine" is the type of program WEEN is known for, and Butterfield is used to spearheading. For more than a decade, she has distinguished herself as a personal and professional conduit for change. She received a presidential appointment in October 2009 as the Deputy Director of Public Affairs for the International Trade Administration (ITA) in the United States Department of Commerce. ITA strengthens the competitiveness of U.S. industry, promotes trade and investment, and ensures fair trade and compliance. In this capacity, Butterfield supports President Obama’s national economic agenda to revive the global economy, create jobs and renew growth that benefits all people.

Prior to joining the Obama Administration, Butterfield served as the Director of Diversity for the national headquarters of the Alzheimer’s Association. The first to serve in this role, Butterfield developed nationally recognized marketing and program strategies to reach under served communities for the organization’s 77 chapters nationwide, expanding her marketing expertise to senior populations.

For more than six years, Butterfield served as the Executive Director of the Hip-Hop Summit Action Network under the leadership of its Founder and Co-Chair, Russell Simmons. Butterfield was recognized for her leadership as one of the youngest executive directors in the United States, developing critically acclaimed financial literacy and voter education programs for young adults between the ages of 18 – 35 nationwide.

last year, Butterfield was selected by ESSENCE Magazine for their Power Issue and featured as one of the nation's Top 40 Under 40 in recognition of her leadership.

Thompson, on the other hand, cut her teeth in media and television as a former TV producer for Columbia Tri-Star Television, Sony Pictures TV, and Court TV News Network. She uses her thorough knowledge of production and the media and entertainment business to help enhance the branding and global presence of WEEN various empowerment initiatives. An entrepreneur, she also is the CEO and designer of her own exclusive apparel and jewelry company called BeanpYe (beanpYe.com) based in Brooklyn, NY.

Inspired by a desire to mold minds and change lives, Thompson left the world of television to pursue a graduate degree in education, a move she made on her way to becoming a high school teacher in Brooklyn. "It had been tugging on my heart to have a career of social service, so I took on the ultimate challenge of teaching inner city youth,” she said.

The University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill alum now uses her unique background as a former NCAA and All-American athlete, TV producer, designer and educator to help spearhead key WEEN initiatives and guide young women to a limitless, unconventional, fabulous and empowering future.

I recently caught up with both Valeisha and Sabrina and engaged in a free-ranging discussion about WEEN and its mission, men, gender equality and the power and purpose of faith in their lives. Here’s what they had to say:

* * *

CP: How did you two meet?

VB: Sabrina and I met in elementary school and have been close friends ever since.

ST: (Laughing) Can I even think back that far? We grew up in a rather small town and everyone knew each other. I've known V for over 22 years, easily.

CP: What is WEEN?

ST: I can tell you personally what it means to me. It is a force of energy that that's spreading the light of empowerment to women all over the world.

VB: True. Officially, the Women in Entertainment Empowerment Network (WEEN) is a global coalition of women and men committed to supporting, promoting and defending the balanced, positive portrayal of women in entertainment and society.

CP: Why and when did you see a need for the organization?

VB: There has always been a need, but the demand heightened in 2007 when the entertainment industry became the target of extreme criticism regarding the way women are portrayed in music. Women across the world asked for a change and as an executive in the entertainment industry at the time, I felt it was my responsibility to help create more balance and work from the inside out.

ST: Although WEEN originated in 2007, Valeisha had the early vision to start it. As I mentioned, we both grew up in a small town in which most people are groomed to work hard and enter traditional occupations. There were no resources to help guide young ladies who aspired to really delve into the arts and entertainment. We saw a need to be a source of knowledge for people who wanted options to go into the world of entertainment and also to tackle major social issues women face such as self-esteem, health care and financial literacy. Women have always been an easy target in media and often seen as "less than" in a male-dominated society and industry. So we felt the need to do our part to help try to turn the tides of criticism and discrimination against women.

CP: When did you know this (WEEN) was something you wanted to do?

VB: When nearly 125 top women executives in the entertainment industry convened at my Manhattan apartment for a meeting. That meeting turned into a spirited dialogue, which led to a movement of committed women in the industry ready for change.

CP: Why a focus on the entertainment business? Or is it a mistake to assume that the empowerment you promote is limited to that area?

ST: The focus is in many areas aside entertainment. We focus on health care, financial literacy, personal growth and career development. The founders of the original WEEN were all from the world of entertainment. In addition, we know that outlets such as TV, radio, Internet, etc and many more forms of entertainment are the elements that are the driving forces of behavioral influence. With that in mind, we know it is essential to use the entertainment platform to engage our audience while simultaneously instilling core basic values to become successful.

VB: The entertainment business remains at the core of our programming, but we are not limited to just one area of business. We provide programming related to health education, financial literacy, professional development (all areas of business) and personal advancement.

CP: Are you surprised that this inequity between men and women is alive and well today?

ST: As optimistic as I am, I am not surprised the inequity between women and men still exists. But I do believe when we start to have more women within positions of power you will see the gap decrease.

CP: Is the organization multicultural or focused upon African-American women?

VB: We focus on women of all ages and races.

CP: Do you receive any criticism from men about the organization and its goals? If so, how do you respond?

VB: To my knowledge, we have never received criticism from men. In fact, men have been very supportive and several male leaders have considered modeling programs targeting men after WEEN.

SB: (Emphatically) Absolutely not. We have quite a few male members and tons of male supporters. Real men would be insane to not support an organization full of smart, beautiful, savvy, and ambitious women (laughing).

CP: What are your key initiatives and how are you organized and supported?

VB: Our key initiatives include The WEEN Academy, the I AM WEEN program, the Annual WEEN Awards and our career development programming.

SB: We are supported by major media outlets such as CNN and HOT 97 (New York), music moguls such as Russell Simmons, Kevin Liles, Sylvia Rhone, nostalgic organizations such as the Girl Scouts of America, and major corporations such as McDonald's, Anheuser-Busch, Enterprise Rent-A- Car and more.

CP: Tell me about the WEEN Academy and how it came into being. Would you say it's your biggest project yet, in terms of the potential it has?

ST: When we created WEEN, we knew that in three to four years we wanted to launch a WEEN academy to groom our younger generation of young women to be future entertainment executives and moguls. Through the years, we have earned the support of executives and artists who would always hear about the buzz surrounding this upcoming academy. After the WEEN co-founders and planning committee organized the framework for the academy, then we simply reached out to our long-time supporters, who instantly came on-board to be "professors for a day" or provide financial support.

VB: That’s right, and we always understood the WEEN Academy has tremendous potential. The WEEN Academy was an idea I first had in 2007, the year we were founded. Sabrina and I have developed the program and curriculum over the last three years. And the program has the potential to be replicated across the nation and in university systems. I wish I had this program when I was in college.

ST: After two recent weekends of intense auditions by young women from around the world, we have selected 35 of them to enter the very first academy. We officially start in July and we are just beaming with excitement! It is definitely our biggest project to date, with endless potential to grow in many markets after our pilot year.

CP: What's next for the organization? What would you like to see in terms of its growth and reach?

VB: Our next goal is to branch into film and television. We are developing a series of documentaries and docu-series that tell the untold stories of real women. Through television and film, we have an opportunity to reach wider audiences and help create balance in the way women are portrayed on screen.

SB: We’re also always seeking to increase our membership until the organization is one million members strong. We will do this by continuing via our programming, outreach and by expanding our branding .

CP: You're both working women. Tell me about your work, and how you balance that with running the organization.

VB: It's tough. We both work 9 – 5, but WEEN is our passion and a part of what motivates us each day. Honestly, my leadership with WEEN and the young women we serve does not feel like work. I believe it is a part of my life's mission.

SB: Many times, people stare at me and ask, "Where do you get the time and energy?" or "How do you do so many things?" My answer is: "I make time for the things I love." It often means early mornings and late nights. I spent all of my 20s grinding in the TV world, creating my jewelry business, later entering the educational world and then starting WEEN. Now that I'm in my early 30s (and loving it, she points out), I take time out to travel the world, open myself up to love, and only take on projects that I hold near and dear to my heart. If each of us had a dollar for every email or text from we received from the other about WEEN business, then we’d both would be millionaires. But as I said, it never feels like work to me—that’s the key. If it did, I would have moved to another field of work eons ago.

CP: Speaking of being in the workplace, what do you see that inspires you and disappoints in regard to the challenges women of all ages face?

VB: There's room for improvement in every business, in every culture and in every region. Misogyny and continued disparities between women and men with regard to pay and access to leadership roles are not just issues within the entertainment industry. We must level the playing field to ensure women receive fair and equal consideration in the workplace, in athletics and everywhere.

SB: My simple response? The decisions young women (and young men make) both inspire and disappoint me. On the one hand they are BIG thinkers, especially in the world of technology, networking and socializing. On the other hand, the decisions girls make at an early age about their image and body haunts that promise. That's why WEEN's mission is to create a balance in media, within the educational system and across industries so that young women realize how valuable they are, but who they can be.

CP: Do you think it's possible to "have it all?" What does that even mean?

ST: I used to think that we could "have it all". However, the older I get it means that choosing the "having it all" route means, more than likely, that something or someone is suffering because of it. Surely, I can become a CEO of a huge corporation and be a mom and wife; however, I'm not willing to risk being anything less than a world-class wife and mom, versus a mediocre one, simply to be a powerful CEO. Family comes first and will always come first. As women we have the ability to juggle many things, but no one (man or woman) should say “Yes” to everything, or they’ll become a jack of all trades and master of none. It's about knowing how to play your position (again, this goes for men and women) and how to move forward during in ideal times so you can maximize your purpose in life at any time.

VB: To me, a woman "has it all" when she is able to put God first and have a healthy personal life - work life balance. YES, it is absolutely possible.

CP: Do you think men are asked or expected to respond to the same question in the pursuit of their careers?

VB: No.

ST: Well, men aren’t asked the question because it’s just assumed every will rule his home, the business world and his personal domain. But women, on the other hand, not only bear the physical demands of bringing life into the world, but the expectations that they will manage the job of being a mother, a separate career and running the household. And many do, quite well. But the challenge most women face is dealing with the guilt they feel as a result of always sacrificing something to manage everything they’re expected to. In general, this isn’t something most men deal with. But, we are built differently and that is a beautiful thing. I don’t think it is easier being one gender or the other; and I truly love being a woman. But men, especially black men, have an indescribable pressure from society that also takes a toll on them. That’s why I keep them all in prayer!

CP: Let’s talk about that a little more. Particularly in the African-American community women face a great deal of criticism from African-American men when they take the lead. Research shows that in virtually every category African-American women are making achievements while men lag behind. How do you respond to the criticism yet show you understand the frustration men are experiencing?

ST: I love my black men. I have been truly blessed to see a brilliant father who has been married to my mom for 38 years; to have an amazing brother who has been a great husband to his wife for six years and a loving father as well. I have a line of astounding uncles as well. So my vision of "where are all the good black men" likely is very subjective because I know what I see. I saw tons of great men growing up, so although the stats may say one thing, my experiences prove it wrong every day. Perhaps I am naive or perhaps I only choose to surround myself with positive and healthy images of black men. At the same time, I know plenty of people who did not share my same experience and have a much different perspective.

I've witnessed some Black women make sweeping generalizations about our Black men that are simply unfair and dehumanizing. And I have been guilty of doing the same thing about certain individuals, but never about an entire population of men. It’s my belief that we have to support of our men when they are right, yet constructively criticize them (not scold) when they are wrong.

VB: As men and women, we share many of the same challenges, but some obstacles are unique based on gender. Until we are able to walk in each others’ shoes, there's little room for criticism. Women historically have taken leadership roles in their homes, their communities, their churches and beyond. It's a part of the makeup of women to be a source of strength. I don't respond to the criticism; if anything, I use it as fuel.

CP: Part of your goal of empowering women is to teach them to love and value themselves. How do you equip them to do this?

VB: Mentoring and leadership by example. We've found through focus groups and mentoring programs that young women learn the most from their peers. So, provide mentoring, but also peer to peer programming for them to connect with like-minded and focused young women.

ST: Everyone learns best by observing and participating in various experiences. We provide platforms such as forums, mentor interaction and events for women of all ages in which they’re surrounded by great women who are real and have real stories to tell. We don’t judge, but we do challenge them. One of our slogans is "Don't Judge Me, Empower Me,” which speaks to the work everyone has to do to help a young woman become everything she can dream.

CP: Who are your role models, and why?

VB: Dr. Dorothy Height continues to be a source of inspiration for me. I’d also say Ambassador Susan Rice. She embodies the perfect balance of strength, beauty and substance.

ST: My parents and my brother! I love these people with every fiber of my being. Also, there’s the amazing and impeccable Lauren Lake (Founding WEEN Member, attorney, television host, entertainment, designer, and author). She is always living out her dreams and dropping pearls of wisdom along the way.

CP: What role has your personal experiences played in shaping your goal of doing the work you do?

ST: I get emotional when responding to this question because everything I have witnessed or experienced has molded me into the person I am today. I wouldn't trade in any emotional scar I carry for anything in the world. My business mistakes in my 20s taught me well so that I would not make those mistakes again as part of my current business practices. My willingness to take risks was born of my choice to move from a small college town in NC, Chapel Hill, to the metropolis of NYC after college. My ability to think on my feet and produce quality results comes from my experience working as a live TV producer. And my unwavering faith in God comes from the upbringing and teachings of my parents in a church setting. I believe that solid family background and consistent, early childhood teaching made me who I am today, no doubt about it.

VB: My personal experiences have played a tremendous role. In school, I wasn't a top student, but I was willing to work hard. Also, I've learned more from my failures than my success. Those experiences built character and motivated me to keep trying. Nothing I have or have ever done in life came without a lot of hard-work, sacrifice and patience.

CP: At last year's WEEN awards I was impressed by the recognition you provided to women, known and largely unknown, who are doing important work in the world and in the community. How to you identify these women and why is it important to tell their stories and recognize their contributions?

VB: During the WEEN Awards we honor outstanding individuals with a proven commitment to the empowerment of women worldwide. There are so many women, known and unknown, that fit this description. We engage our co-founder and board of directors to weigh-in and make the final decisions each year.

CP: What inspires you?

VB: God, my grandmother and my mom. Also, the word "no" is great inspiration.

ST: Music, injustice, my family, my darling niece, Chloe, and traveling.

CP: What is courage?

ST: Courage is the ability to face any situation head on knowing that God has my back.

VB: Putting fear aside, listening to your inner voice and following your dreams.

CP: What role does faith/spirituality play in your everyday life? How do you face challenges and embrace opportunities?

VB: My faith and spirituality are the reasons for my success. Without God and my faith in Him, I would not be able to do what I love each day.

ST: Without faith I would have been emotionally done in college. I have had near-death experiences several times, enough to know I have a purpose in life and that my spirituality and personal relationship with God is what gives me my backbone. That’s why I’m still here. I face challenges by staying in prayer, writing journals and talking to wise people.

CP: If you're certain of nothing else in the world, what's the one thing of which you are certain? Why?

VB: You get what you give. The sacrifice, service and goodwill we put forth in the universe has a way of coming back around.

ST: I am here on earth to make noise. Why? Because we all need to dance!

To learn more about WEEN and its initiatives visit http://www.weenonline.org/ . You can also tune in to WEEN Radio: The Pink Suite, every Thursday at 9 p.m. EST. A variety of topics are covered and various guests drop by and regularly add to the thoughtful, and thought-provoking shows. You can learn more about the program by visiting the website.

March 28: Valeisha Butterfield, Sabrina Thompson & The Power of WEEN

2011-03-23T15:35:00.001-04:00

Meet Valeisha Butterfield and Sabrina Thompson, two of the leaders behind the Women in Entertainment Empowerment Network (WEEN), a coalition of women and men of all ages and races committed to supporting, promoting and defending the balanced, positive portrayal of women in entertainment and society. Learn how they're making a difference in real, lasting ways, and have used he battles they've fought to be heard to give a powerful voice to other women through this game-changing organization.

Words To Put Some Spring In Your Step

2011-03-20T08:17:00.002-04:00

It's spring, and we're alive!

I'm in love with everything that spring represents, and I have been since I was a kid. I remember kite flying, being amazed by flowers emerging from the soil and birds returning to the trees and seeming so happy about it. I knew even then that spring meant starting over, and I've always been a fan of a fresh start.

All these years later, I remain as excited by the return of spring as ever. This mornning, as I spent time walking Faith, the little Chihuahua who stole my heart last summer, I appreciated how many times she stopped and sniffed the newly green grass, as if each blade gave off its own, special scent. I smiled when she stepped into a planting bed, drawn by the flowers there, and closed her eyes as the colors and aromas excited her senses. She trots from spot to spot, in a kind of dance of joy that I believe, with all my heart, is about spring returning once more.

I'm equally inspired, but I tend to do that dance in my head versus on a public street. My reason? It's a safe bet no one would consider my dance something cute, as is the case with Faith; instead, they'd probably call the Po-Po and leave me to explain my inspired, but clearly weird street-dancing to them. That said, I'll just live vicariously through Faith's expressions of joy--she has enough boundless enthusiasm for the both of us.

This spring, I'm coming off some major changes in my life, and given the world we're living in I think most of us can say the same. Change, after all, is the only constant of which I'm certain, so by the time spring arrives we're all ready for a change. The only question becomes how we welcome it. Some people have an easier time with it than others. But if we view all change through the same lens with which we view the arrival of spring, well, everything seems better and more alive with possibility. I know I'm certainly embracing that thinking right now. In fact, I see the arrival of this spring, in particular, as a very important turning point in my life, a chance to right my ship, so to speak. I have no evidence I'll be able to do it, of course, but I have faith, nonetheless, that I will. So should you. If there's ever a season for believing the impossible is possible, spring's simply got to be it.

Today, in celebrating the official arrive of spring at 7:21 p.m. EDT, I want us all to think about renewing our lives in ways that will help us fulfill our promise, embrace our purpose and inspire our best days ahead. This is the time to start again. This is the opportunity to be better than we've been. This is spring, and within its season everything changes, grows and reemerges more beautiful than before. Why shouldn't we do the same?

Don't answer that question. Instead, be encouraged. Be fierecely faithful in your journey.

There will be moments, however, when your resolve will waver. It's normal, very human and something none of us are immune to. But when that moment comes along, when you've lost the pep spring puts into your step, I have a little something that will help. It's a thoughtful list of thoughts about spring that I offer for your consideration, review and remembrance. If you believe, as I do, that everyone has something to teach others, you'll find these thoughts uplifting and thought provoking in ways that will feed your spirit. So enjoy the comments, embrace the messages, and use the words to keep you focused, even in seasons of discontent.

I keep a copy of the list in my wallet so I can always take a gander at these words of wisdom when I need it the most. And you know what? No matter what season of my life I'm in, just reading these words always keeps my heart very close to spring. I think they'll do the same for you.

THE 10 BEST THINGS I'VE READ THAT OTHERS HAVE SAID ABOUT SPRING

1. "An optimist is the human personification of spring" Susan J Bissonette

2. "If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant: if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome.”     Anne Bradstreet

3. "The day the Lord created hope was probably the same day he created Spring." Bern Williams

4. "I stuck my head out the window this morning and spring kissed me bang in the face." Langston Hughes

5. "If spring came but once a century instead of once a year, or burst forth with the sound of an earthquake and not in silence, what wonder and expectation there would be in all hearts to behold the miraculous change. " Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

6. "Spring--an experience in immortality. " Henry David Thoreau

7. "The only thing that could spoil a day was people. People were always the limiters of happiness except for the very few that were as good as spring itself." Ernest Hemingway

8. "Never cut a tree down in the wintertime. Never make a negative decision in the low time. Never make your most important decisions when you are in your worst moods. Wait. Be patient. The storm will pass. The spring will come."   Robert H. Schuller

9. "Spring shows what God can do with a drab and dirty world." Virgil A. Kraft

10. "Every Christian has a very personal responsibility to grow in their faith. Yet there are times when we seem to stand still. That is when God touches us like the earth in the springtime, bringing new growth and warmth for the faithful souls dedicated to His service."   Ed Price

This spring, I wish for each of you hope renewed and endless possibility to claim.  And of most importance, know that this not just a season of change; it can be, if you allow it, YOUR season of change.   It's already begun.  All you must do is allow yourself to grow, become and emerge. Everything you need is already available to you. So, good people, let it be.

Maverick Philanthropist Michael Chatman: "Giving Isn't A Spectator Sport"

2011-03-14T05:56:00.000-04:00

If there's one thing I've learned over the years it's to appreciate the moment you connect with a kindred spirit. The moment is always memorable, not for any signs or symbolism, but simply because you and they know, immediately, you "get" one another. In 1996, I had one of those moments when I met Michael Chatman, a young motivational speaker who was, at the time, focusing his mission on helping young people learn to value themselves and believe in the pursuit of their dreams. A key message he offered them--many of the kids from tough neighborhoods or abusive environments--was that they were resilient, and innately equipped to withstand and overcome the challenges and hardships life dealt them.

He wasn't one of those motivational speakers who'd lived a life completely different from the lives of people in his audience. Michael was living proof of what he said was possible. His own youth and young adulthood was marked by upheavals, violence and the constant hopelessness of a community that had given up on itself and its children (Miami's Liberty City). Yet he found the blessing of being mentored by a variety of people from an early age, people who made him believe, despite evidence to the contrary all around him, that he mattered and could do something with his life other than sell drugs, steal or engage in other risky behaviors too many of his contemporaries chose.

Having lived through that experience myself, and being blessed by the wisdom of a mother who always taught me to expect more of myself, and numerous opportunities that came about in the wake of many difficult early years, I recognized the same spirit of indomitability in Michael, and he, in me. We've worked together and been friends ever since.

Michael is still committed to helping young people, and all people, for that matter. He still reminds people of who they are and what they're capable of. But, unlike 15 years ago when we first met, he's preaching that Gospel in a different way.

Today, he helps celebrities and non-profit organizations leverage the power of their resources in support of providing for essential needs that sustain the human spirit. And in this day and age, when all over the world we're witness to the degree of need and want everywhere, his is a message that while thoughtful, doesn't pull any punches: philanthropy--the art and practice of giving--isn't a spectator sport.

You know how it is when people donate anything these days; a lot of them expect fanfare and genuflecting to accompany the act. But Michael holds a view that I certainly share, and is reflected by his steadily increasing Twitter fan base and summarized by @JaydaCabbell when she Tweeted: "Follow @michaelchatman, he's shifting the money-focused view of philanthropy towards one that is love-centered." The point, he believes, is that when giving is love-centered, the accolades don't matter.

In 2010, he decided that philosophy would be the basis on which he would encourage people everywhere to give, and give from the heart. He wrote books about about it, built an agency around it, and developed a radio program focused exclusively on philanthropy and the opportunities everyone--and he means everyone--has to create a real difference in the lives of real people. His efforts, to put it modestly, haven't gone unnoticed.

Known as America’s Maverick Philanthropist, Michael is one of the nation’s leading authorities on new philanthropy. He heads the nation’s largest network of mission-related philanthropists who give up to $50,000 annually, The Association of Maverick Philanthropists. The organization comprises a philanthropic community that, according to Michael, is "collectively making the biggest social impact in the United States and internationally."

His annual philanthropy summits, featuring America’s premier thought leaders, draw thousands of attendees annually. And because he's also an accomplished professional speaker, Michael routinely travels and speaks to the next generation of philanthropists, including members of families with a total household net worth of $1 million to $10 million. He's also zeroing in on mission-related philanthropists from families with a total household net worth of $10 million to $100 million.

In between breaths and flights, I recently caught up with Michael to talk about his current work, the lessons he's learned and what keeps him believing in the power of the individual to make a difference in the world.

CP: I met you in 1996 when you were a motivational speaker. What did that title mean to you at the time and why is motivating people--all kinds of people--something you felt you could do?

MC: Great question. When I began as a motivational speaker, I was connecting to the spiritual concepts of the “Law of Attraction”, but without fully understanding and embracing the principle as I do now. I was very influenced by motivational speakers Les Brown and Zig Ziglar, and I knew I wanted to follow in their footsteps. You know, play a role in helping people realize a larger vision of who really they are, and understand their unlimited possibilities. So it stood to reason that before I could do that for others, I had to become my message. How could I tell others to believe in themselves, when I did not believe in myself?

CP: How much of that desire had to do with the life you lived as a child and young man?

MC: My childhood greatly influenced my decision to become a motivational speaker. I strongly believed that my personal story had the potential to inspire others to greatness.

CP: Prior to motivational speaking, what type of work did you do?

MC: I started my career working for a youth organization as an after-school counselor.

CP: Eventually, you struck out on your own to share your message of hope with others, however. And that meant you were really on your own, not getting a regular paycheck. What made you decide, early on, that you wanted to work for yourself versus someone else?

MC: I had certain financial goals that I wanted to reach, and by working for someone else, I simply did not see how I could realize them. Also, I didn't enjoy all the office politics, especially the cutthroat and backstabbing work environments I realized existed in both non-profit and for-profit institutions.

CP: Do you consider yourself self-confident? If so, how did you get that way?

MC: I do now, but not initially. In the past, I struggled with feelings of inadequacy and doubts about my self -worth. I know now that was because I was uncomfortable and insecure with the life I was living at the time, and my frustrations that my life was not ascendant, but in what I saw as a state of decline. Feeling this way wasn't healthy, it wasn't helping me. So I made it a point to go within my soul and do some inner work. Once I began to discover the truth about myself, which is that I am a child of God worthy of all of life’s blessings and opportunities, it began to change the momentum of my life.

CP: What do you believe in?

MC: I believe in the power of the individual to shape his own destiny. So much of what we have in our lives (good and not-so-good), is as a direct result of what we believe we should have. Our lives are greatly influenced by our thoughts. If are willing to think, expect and receive (meaning to fully allow what we want without resisting), the things we desire the most will make their way into existence.

CP: What's most important to you?

MC: Personal relationships with God, family and friends.

CP: Tell me about your new endeavor. The agency, the radio show. . . why are
you doing this now?

MC: I love the field of philanthropy. My mother taught me to always do my best to make the world a better place. The most inspiring element of my work is the one that is possibly the most daring: philanthropy starts with me. My feelings. My dreams. My values. And it makes me part of a broader world. By supporting causes outside of my daily life, I can not only do good for others, but I can benefit through my involvement in the broader world in which I live.

CP: Why is giving important?

MC: I think motivational speaker Jim Rohn put it best: “Giving is important because it starts the receiving process.” The act of giving is, in fact, a gift to oneself.

CP: These are tough economic times for everyone, even celebrities. How does your agency break through when everyone is, for the most part, cutting back?

MC: It has everything to do with mindset. For me, I look into the world every day and see abundance. God owns it all. That being said, my daily thoughts are focused on God’s abundance, not the lack of it that many of us may be experiencing in our own lives. There is a high degree of expectancy that God will supply for my needs, and even some of my wants.

CP: What about the discourse you've begun on your radio show, with professionals in philanthropy, offering insights and encouragement to those in the industry? What purpose do you see it serving? What are your goals?

MC: My goal is to teach and reinforce the idea that everyone can be a philanthropist, regardless of income or status. A philanthropist is anyone who gives time or money, regardless of the amount.

CP: I think individuals tend to believe there's nothing they can do to help others in a real way. How would you respond to that?

MC: I like this quote from Mother Teresa: “Everyone has something to give, because everyone can give love to someone in need.”

CP: You're a husband and a father. What has living those roles taught you that you may not have learned if you were neither?

MC: Both roles have taught me the value of compromise and finding common ground. As husband and father, I’ve learned and mastered the universal spiritual law of allowing, which is: “I am that which I am – and I am willing to allow others to be that which they are.” Being a husband and father is a joy, and I could not begin to imagine my life if I were neither. I know I am a blessed man!

CP: Let's talk a bit about success. How do you define it today versus 15 years ago? Why?

MC: Fifteen years ago, my view of success was wrongly attached to the size of my bank account. At this point in my life, while money is a necessary resource, I don't worship it. Instead, I see success as having peace of mind. It is about leaving a legacy that inspires the next generation to greatness, and most important, having the ability to live a life free from regret. Put another way, success is knowing that if I had only 30 days to live, I wouldn't change a thing. In a very real sense, success for me today is entirely about living the life you’ve always dreamed of , but living it NOW!

CP: What motivates you every day?

MC: Giving time and money to philanthropic causes. It is joyful. It is fulfilling. It makes my life feel worthwhile in ways that few other enterprises can.

CP: What's the best advice you've received? What's the best advice you've given?

MC: Best advice received? The spiritual law of allowing. This law has led me to a life of freedom. And what universal spiritual law says is: I AM THAT WHICH I AM, AND I AM WILLING TO ALLOW ALL OTHERS TO BE THAT WHICH THEY ARE. Interestingly enough, the best advice I’ve received is also the best advice I’ve ever given.

CP: Without context, if I asked you what you know for sure, what would your answer be?

MC: I know for sure that I am a person loved by God.

CP: What can we expect next from you, the agency, and your efforts to increase awareness of the value of all kinds of philanthropy among the uninspired?

MC: You can expect that I will continue to teach others what I've learned is philanthropy’s big secret: Philanthropy is fun. It is joyful. It is fulfilling. It will make your life worthwhile in ways that give you purpose and appreciation for your own life, and the lives of others. Through my radio show, agency and individual, daily efforts, I'm committed to showing people just how that's possible.

Learn more about Michael and his work by visting his website, http://www.michaelchatman.com/, where you can subscribe to Philanthropy News (Free Newsletter) and get connected to the world's top funders and leading thought leaders in philanthropy.

You can also listen to the Michael Chatman Giving Show--produced by Salem Communications - 5th Largest Radio Network in the U.S.--every Thursday at 11:30 am (Eastern) at http://www.880thebiz.com/. You can also follow Michael on Twitter @michaelchatman.

Coming Next! Michael Chatman, The Maverick Philanthropist, March 14

2011-03-13T08:40:00.000-04:00

Giving Up A Paycheck, Earning A Life

2011-03-06T11:18:00.001-05:00

On January 31st, I completed my final day with the company for which I'd worked for nearly 15 years. It wasn't a bitter separation, nor was I fired or otherwise encouraged to leave.

I negotiated the departure and it was as amiable as could be. Yet still, it has taken me some time to understand everything leading up to it and why it was necessary for me to give up a job that paid me well into the six figures, allowed me to move in circles with the rich and famous, and have a lifestyle that was completely unexpected in the wildest dreams of a man who, despite what many may otherwise think, still possesses the mindset of a young, black, poor kid from North St. Louis, who only recently understood that God really did dream a bigger dream for him than he ever dreamed for himself.

My family and friends, when I told them what I planned to do last year, worried about my sanity. I mean, particularly among black folk, giving up "good job" simply isn't done. So it made sense to them that leaving my job had to be a sign that I'd finally lost my mind. After several weeks of talking with them about the decision and explaining that I'd really be OK, they finally offered guarded support, although I sensed that many of them still wanted me to change my mind and stop the the turning of the wheels leading up to my departure that I'd set in motion last year.

I understand why they felt that way. I'd be lying if I said I didn't wonder what the hell I was doing from the very moment I formally asked my my management to leave.   And I was, for a while, beset by a vacillating sense of enthusiasm and anxiety about the choice; my right and left brain battled daily about my reasons for doing it. I also experienced a variety of emotions, because in many ways my choice felt like a death had occurred. It was a normal reaction, for the career I thought I would have, at least with this company, had died.  So it comes as no surprise that Elisabeth Kübler-Ross' five stages were intimately familiar to me: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. I eventually reached the acceptance stage in December of last year, but still, I didn't have the words or the understanding to share explain why, after making my choice, I struggled with it.

I didn't, at least, until now.

Before I get into that explanation, however, let me say that Kübler-Ross understood something about choices that most of us, in the midst of grieving for real or potential loss, tend to forget: "Mankind's greatest gift is also its greatest curse, (and that) is (the fact) we have free choice. We can make our choices built from love or from fear."

Choices. . . built from love or fear.   Quite a concept, isn't it?

I've been thinking about my choice and the uncertainty of what that decision means (I'm unemployed in the worst economy I've ever known); and what it doesn't (my career is seriously and dangerously off track).   Clearly, if my next decisions are based on these thoughts, I'll be making them based on fear.   I'm focused on not doing that, despite the fact that such thoughts feed a great deal of insecurity. As it often the case with thinking fueled by fear, some days are better than others. Some days I win the battle and others I lose. It's just one of those realities about my current situation I've accepted I will have to ride out until the next job is secured and I'm working again.

What I've discovered, however, is that love is stronger than fear. I really did make this life-changing choice out of love for myself. To the outside world I had it all, the kind of success that represents "making it" in America, including the externalized symbols of perceived happiness. I wasn't rich, by any stretch of the imagination, but I could pretty much do whatever I wanted within reason and not worry about it. When you've come from the childhood and early adulthood in which just paying the bills and having food on the table was a daily struggle, that's success!

But over time, I realized that I wasn't truly successful in the ways that mattered most. I was unhappy in my professional life for a variety of reasons. This wasn't an idea with which I became acquainted recently. I knew this six or seven years ago. But like so many of us choose to do, I stayed put because of the paycheck. I can't deny the power the paycheck had over me.   It convinced me to accept things I otherwise wouldn't. It told me expecting better treatment and greater professional opportunity from the company for which I worked  was nothing more than foolish emotionalism, especially when I was making more money than I ever dreamed I could. (When I was in college and studying social work, I thought I'd be set for life if I could one day earn $10,000 a year and help people at the same time. Maybe I was more right than I knew.)

The paycheck became my measure of self-worth, self-esteem and professional regard. Yet, as the paycheck grew, my sense of happiness with my job and professional achievement diminished. There were telltale signs: my increasing weight; a routine impatience with the bureaucratic reindeer games I had to play to get even the simplest things done; a sense that I was simply maintaining the status-quo every day.  I even found myself "dialing in" my work because there was never anything new or challenging that required me to test my limits or even do what I was capable of. But I ignored everything. Every sign. After all, what did these things matter when I was getting a paycheck?

As it turns out, they mattered most. Which brings me back to how I decided to build my choice from love.

Yesterday, I went to the theater to see a movie I'd been anticipating since seeing the trailer months ago: The Adjustment Bureau. The movie stars Matt Damon and Emily Blunt, both actors for whom I've a great deal of regard. Plus, I admire how Damon has built a life that is not defined by Hollywood, but envied by it.

As the movie began winding its way through an intricately woven fabric of sci-fi and spiritual parables, I was immediately aware that the essential question the movie posed was, "What would you give up for love?"

I sat up in my seat, and started taking notes. Literally. I have had enough experiences throughout my life that I know when I'm in the midst of one of those special moments, when I'm at exactly the right place at exactly the right time, and this was such a moment.   It was clear to me that God was speaking, and he had something important he wanted me to know.

Without spoiling the movie too much for those who want to see it, here's the summary plot:  When we meet Damon's character, David Norris, he's a congressman from New York in the midst of a race for the Senate that he seems sure to win until something goes awry. If he'd won, he would've been the youngest senator ever elected, and fulfilling what appeared to be part of his destiny. As he prepares to concede the election, however, he meets Blunt, a free-spirited dancer named Elise, with whom he has an immediate and powerful connection he can't explain. It's the kind of connection most of us hope for, and dream of having with that one person we believe is out there, somewhere. If ever there were two people destined to be soul mates, these two are it.

Fast forward and Damon is working for a corporation and pondering his next move. One day, he walks into an office and sees something he wasn't meant to see, and when those behind what he's witnessed realize he's stumbled upon them, he finds himself in quite a pickle.   He's eventually caught after a breathtaking chase in which he's pursued by a group of men dressed in in dark suits and wearing fedoras. They look like G-Men, but ones who were apparently dressed by stylist fresh from television's popular Mad Men drama series.

What Damon's character learns is that these stylish gents are in control--of everything--and restore balance when things somehow get off track. How and why they do this is something you should discover yourself, but I will tell you this: In return for letting him go back to the life he's known, they tell him everything about themselves and swear him to secrecy. Beyond that, they ask him for only one thing: that he not see Blunt's character again. When Damon asks why, their answer is simple: "Because you're not supposed to." It wasn't part of the bigger plan, they explain.

It's from this point that questions about choices, free will and a lot more will make anyone question what they thought they knew. That's certainly what it did for me. And when a movie can so adeptly raise questions like the ones this one raised, about God, faith, love. . .well, it's beyond great film making--it can be a spiritual awakening.

Ultimately, I found myself viewing the movie through the lens of my recent decision to leave my job, and I discovered a clarity I hadn't been able to entirely wrap my arms around, let alone my brain. I left the theater with an answer to a question that I'd been asking myself since first realizing I was actually going to leave the security of my job several months ago: Was it worth giving up everything I really love to keep everything I thought I wanted?   Absolutely not, I realized. That's because what I loved was myself, and I wasn't willing to lose myself to keep a job.

In the movie, Damon's character said something that made me realize that I'd actually made an empowered choice, not a mistake, in leaving the job: "All I have are the choices that I make," he said. And when you look at life that way,  it's impossible to doubt the value of my choice to pursue happiness, and to inspire myself again with work that I am challenged by and engaged in. My choice was to remove myself from a place that found me literally eating my feelings (and gaining about 50 pounds) and even questioning my personal and professional worth. I chose to free myself from a set of circumstances that would only get worse, and in doing so I'm proud to say I made a decision to choose myself, not the paycheck.

Let me be clear about something here. I don't blame anyone for what I was feeling. I don't blame the company. I don't, by the way, blame myself. There are simply times in life when you have to accept the obvious and realize that something's not working for you and move on. The same circumstances may be ones under which someone else will thrive, but not you. I don't care if it's at work, in relationships or whatever. The only thing you're responsibile for is knowing yourself well enough to discern the difference between whether staying in the circumstance is helping or hurting you. Once you do that, it's up to you to find a way out.

Let me speak a bit about responsibility. All too often, a lot of us live our lives believing that if we just take responsibility for our choices, that we're in the driver's seat and have control. But everything I've come to believe about the power of choice has taught me otherwise. Choices we have, but free will? That's something we take for granted. During The Adjustment Bureau, one of the Men In Hats, Thompson, played by the awesome character actor Terrence Stamp, mockingly told Damon's character, "You don't have free will. You have the appearance of free will." Fascinating consideration, isn't it? And very true for a lot of people. What turned out to be interesting about the Thompsom character, however, is that he represented the type of person we've come to know as a bureacrat. He knows all the rules and policies, but has forgotten what they were designed to achieve, in the first place.

It was only later in the movie when another of the Men In Hats, Harry, who from my vantage point represented what I'd call God's Grace, says: "People (must) realize that free will is a gift that you won't appreciate until you fight for it. That's what The Chairman had in mind so that one day, we won't write the plan--you will."

By the way, The Chairman in the movie is what most of us would call God. I know that because Harry tells Damon's character, "The Chairman comes to everyone in a different form." He goes on to say, when Damon questions why he and Blunt's character had to endure so much, and asks whether they were being tested in some way, "Of course it's a test; it's all a test. And when you risked everything, you inspired The Chairman, and you inspired me, too."

My point here, my friends, is that taking responsibility to make choices is the easy part of the equation. The tough part is the fight for free will you have to engage in so as to make those choices in the first place. You can't simply sit still waiting to see what happens next. You can't just expect God to do all the work for you because He loves you; you've gotta show some chutzpah and show how much you love yourself and others by doing the work and becoming the change you want in life .

Now, don't get me wrong. I believe that my God has a plan for me. I trust in it. I don't always understand it. But I've long accepted that there are things He makes known to me and much more He doesn't. Yet I've never thought of myself as someone who is blindly faithful. I ask questions and challenge outcomes.   To me, that's what having a personal relationship with God means. What I don't do is believe that the gift of my free will, much like my hope for the best, is something I have the right to expect without first being willing to work for that right. Often, that work will require sacrifice. It's just a logical and emotional adjustment we have to make.

I say all that to explain how I found the free will to choose to leave my job, my sense of security and assumed professional identity behind. It was a choice entirely about risk, yet more importantly, all about love. As the movie so thoughtfully reminded me, I needed to work for my happiness; I needed to go against the grain to achieve it; and I had to be willing to deal with the fallout, whatever form that fallout took and will continue to take, in pursuit of the happiness I know I want, and believe I deserve.  I love myself enough to go for it.

Dr. Phil McGraw has said, "I have never encountered a successful person who didn't have to sacrifice in one area of life in order to be successful in another. If you have tons of resources in the monetary account but a zero balance in the emotional, family, physical and spiritual accounts, that spells a bankrupt life."

For a long time, that was the life I was leading. I lived a life defined by financial success, but that's all I had. I'd given priority to the wrong things. But in the course of the last couple of years and past several months, a number of adjustments have been made. It's almost as if unseen forces re-prioritized things and, in the process, helped me find the strength to choose to do something I really need to do, but feared doing. Then, culminating on January 31, 2011, I discovered something else. I discovered that everything I'd experienced in the last six or seven years--every moment of doubt, fear and uncertainty, every question and every lesson, every moment of courage--was necessary in order for me to exercise true free will.

That date is the day I really set myself free to replenish every account that makes up the balance sheet of my life. I didn't come to this by happenstance. It wasn't all some big, cosmic joke, this life-altering decision. It was proof that my God does have a plan for me, although as John Slattery's Men In Hats character in the movie, Richardson, explained: "We only see part of it."

Happily, I can tell you that I don't know what the future holds.   I don't have a clue.  I just trust in who holds the future. The big surprise is that I know in having that trust, I am not simply casting myself as a pawn in life's big chess game. I have to, need to, and must make my own moves even when it doesn't appear the best or right time to anyone else. I have to choose to make a risky move even when there may be an easier move I could make to help me win the game. And sometimes, inevitably, I will need to sacrifice the entire game, everything I've put into it, because I realize I have the choice to go on playing the same game forever, or start a new game, altogether.   That's what free will lets me do.

These are all adjustments, in one form or another, I've learned to personally make or accept when they happen  in my life lately. Other adjustments will be made, and that's fine by me.   Destiny, contrary to popular belief, isn't as finite as we'd like to believe. It's changeable, ever-evolving, but uniquely our own. Whatever my destiny, I'm not waiting to discover it; I'm discovering it every day by accepting just how neccesary adjustments are from time to time, and by doing whatever I can to adapt to them when they occur, which is what I know is required to exercise free will and play a role in defining what my destiny will be.

In pursuit of that destiny, I recently gave up a paycheck. But I know now that the choice was a necessary adjustment, one that had to be made so that I could earn my life back.

Author Karim Ramos: Turning Pain Into Possibility

2011-02-28T09:17:00.001-05:00

Note To Readers: As the I Am My Own Cause Blog returns today, I am taking readers on new journeys in this space. I will continue to share my own experiences, of course, but will also offer views into the diverse and different lives of people who inspire and teach me, and who will teach you, too.

I begin with Karim Ramos, whose story is, for many of us, our own story. Here's why. . .

The depths of despair. Karim Ramos has been there.

Living large. He's been there, too.

But it's what he's doing now that will, he believes, define his life and help others do the same.

Ramos, 30, recently published his first book, From Fat Farm to Phat Farm: Never Give Up, a raw and powerful autobiography that delivers a punch to the gut, yet ends with a hopeful and inspirational message people everywhere can relate to. After reading Ramos' story, it becomes virtually impossible to find any reason not to make the most of our lives, no matter what we've been through.

It's not a story unfamiliar in this age of share-all and tell-all popular culture. Every week there seems to be another celebrity or public figure opening up about some horrific experience. But more often than not, these admissions seem calculated, publicity-driven and less about the authors than the myth of who they are that's created around them.

But Ramos isn't famous. Well, at least not to the extent that millions of people know him by name or his every move is tracked by the paparazzi. But he is sort of famous among contemporaries in the way the that people "from the block" or "from the hood" are known. He always talked about doing big things and actually had the nerve to walk the talk. He's a former model whose likeness was seen in advertisements for Phat Farm clothing and other products. He worked with and for Hip-Hop icon and entrepreneur Russell Simmons as a member of his highly-creative and game-changing brand public relations team. He traveled across the globe and saw and experienced things most people only dream of. Without a doubt, he was "famous" to anyone who came from his community--or ones similar to it--and dreamed of something better for themselves.

Behind his achievements, however, was a story few would imagine. And that's what his book details, in a blow-by-blow account that is as painful as it is inspiring.

It's not the story you'd expect from a man who has so much positive energy that when he bounds into a room and embraces everyone in a big, authentic "brother man" hug, the room hums with it. It's not the story you'd expect from a guy blessed with model good looks, killer abs and an infectious personality. But it is his story. And the authentic nature of that story is what sets it apart from the chaff this genre typically produces.

From Fat Farm to Phat Farm is Ramos' account of a life filled with abuse (of the physical and verbal variety); living in the shadow of a perfect older sibling; the dissolution of a family; low self-esteem born of being a fat kid who believed he didn't measure up; homelessness; and--in a major turning point--the death of his beloved older brother, who committed suicide while Ramos was a teen.

There is also his account of how the blessings of opportunity helped him overcome even the most painful experiences he endured as a young man. He speaks candidly about the power of faith and the importance of having hope throughout the book.. Ramos' is a story of reinvention--and how the mind, body, spirit connection makes it all possible. It's a story for us all. It's a reminder that no matter what we've endured or are enduring, giving up is never an option.

Reading the book, which I did in one sitting and found my heart racing and face wet with tears when I finished it, was like hearing a powerful testimony being given in church. And just as a powerful testimony reminds us, Ramos' book affirms one of my own firm beliefs: "As long as there is the dawning of a new day, there is yet another chance to try."

I recently spoke with him about his life, his book and what's ahead now that he's shared his story.   Here's the interview:

CP: Why did you write the book?

KR: I wrote my book to motivate people who have found themselves in a "rut". People who feel like they have no control and nothing to look forward to. I wanted to show people, using my own story, that if you stay focused and believe in the yourself, you can and will find that light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. Look, we all have a story to tell. Everyone has been through, or is going through, something. But it's in sharing those things that we discover just how much we have in common, and how we can take cues from others to find what we need to deal with our own issues and problems. So if this book and my story helps people in that way, I consider it blessing enough. Something good will have come of what I lived through not just for me, but others.

CP: How would you describe the book?

KR: An emotional roller coaster.

CP: I'd agree with that. Anyone reading it will find themselves experiencing highs, lows, joy, pain. . .virtually dozens of emotions related to your life and experiences. Did you expect that reaction?

KR: Yes and no. I sort of expected folks who knew me would be surprised. I mean, it's not something
I've shared with a lot of people. But I had no idea how people in general would react. The big surprise, based on emails I've received and people who have reached out to me on Face Book, is how many people cried while reading the book--women and men. I guess that means it connected with them on some level. I cried writing it, but I was still shocked that readers were so affected by the book.

CP: How would you describe your outlook on life?

KR: Life is something that I thought I had figured out when I was younger. But as I got older, I realized I will never have life figured out! So, I decided to do what I could to simply make the life I had the best it could be. My outlook was so negative for so long. . . but the moment I changed my negative mentality into a positive one, my outlook on life became positive, as well. Life isn't "perfect" and may never be, but today I tend to see everything as blessing in disguise.

CP: You've endured a number of hardships in your life, including unspeakable loss. How did you avoid breaking?

KR:  (Laughs)  Well, I can't say I never broke. I've thought about suicide many times when I was younger. I tried to run from my problems like many people do, but in the end my love for my mother and my faith in God kept me believing things would get better. I don't want to get all spiritual on you, but it all began for me when I put my trust in God, and then let myself appreciate how my mother handled all the difficulty she faced with such grace. I realized that she never once complained about all the sacrifices she made for me,
my father, sisters and brother, and how she lived her life fully believing that  God never gives us anything
we can't handle.   She taught me what faith in action really meant, which is why I learned with great sacrifice
come great blessings.

CP: Do you think pain is essential to growth, or something that you should try to avoid at all costs? And if so, why?

KR: Pain is good for you! When you experience pain, you learn lessons. The only way we learned the stove was hot when we were kids, for instance, was by touching it, right? And we had to learn that for ourselves, even though adults constantly warned us about the danger. Sometimes, pain can't be avoided; but it's those moments we must embrace and learn from.
CP: Do you believe in forgiveness, or forgetting?
KR: I believe in forgiving, but don't ever want to forget. I believe everything that happens to us is a teachable moment, and that we should learn from it and move on.

CP: You spent most of your youth being afraid, but found a way to get beyond those fears. What scares you at this time in your life?

KR: (Laughing) I'm afraid of losing my hair. . .   Seriously? Nothing. Not anymore. I'm not afraid of anything because I've learned to accept the things I can't change.

CP: In the book, you tell how you changed your life and the way you look. Which happened first?

KR: I changed the way I thought, first. Changing what was inside of me was the only way to change what happened in the world outside of me.

CP: How have people responded to learning that you were not always the person you are today? Particularly the physical transformation. Are they surprised?

KR: Very surprised! Its kinda weird putting myself "out there" and revealing so much, but people seem to be relating to what I have to say and are inspired by my past. It makes me very happy that I decided to tell my story, and now have this platform I can use to help others realize the power they have to change their lives, too.
CP: Although your early years were hard, you grew beyond your circumstances.   But everyone may not believe they can do the same. How would you respond to them?

KR: There's always a way out. Some ways take longer then others. I had to hit rock bottom and sleep on a park bench. Sure, I could of killed myself to escape my problems, but I didn't. I kept believing that I had a purpose and that eventually life would get better, and it did. I think that's the same for everyone. But they must make a choice.

CP: You subtitled the book "Never Give Up". Why is it important for people everywhere to continue to believe in something better, even when the odds seem stacked against them?

KR: I always remind people that "Rome wasn't built in a day." It takes time to live the life you want. And what's interesting is that the more I live my life seeking ways to use it for purposes other than my own gain, the happier I am. Rev. Run and Russell Simmons always say, "Don't look for a blessing, BE a blessing."
I'm sure people laughed at Oprah when she said she said wanted to start a talk show called the Oprah Winfrey Show back in 1986, going against Phil Donahue, the king of daytime talk shows at the time. I'm sure people laughed at Russell Simmons when he said he wanted to start a Def Jam Records label with Rick Rubin back in 1984. But they all had a dream and they went for it. They raised the bar and inspired me and millions of others to believe in yourself and believe in your dreams.

CP: What's your relationship like with your family now that the book is published? It's an honest portrayal, but not the most flattering portrait of the family, particularly of your father. Were you concerned about what
they would think when you decided to publish the details of these very personal memories and experiences?

KR: I didn't even want to tell my family the official release date because I was so nervous about how they would react and feel once they read it. Eventually, they all found out what I planned to publish, but I asked that they wait to read the book until I mailed each of them personal copy. As for my father, I'm still extremely nervous about how he'll respond to what I've written. I love him so much; I didn't write the book to hurt him. I pray that when he does read the book, it will open his eyes and he'll want to build a better relationship with me. Then again, he may never want to speak to me again. That's a possibility I may have to live with, but so will he.

CP: Will there always be a part of you that feels responsible for the choice your brother, Cheyenne, made? How do you deal with that?

KR: My brother gave me signs that he was in a very bad place, but I was too young to read them and figure out what they really meant. He didn't give me enough time to even try to save him.   I wish he had. I can't change the past, I can't bring him back. When something like this happens you either let it destroy you, too, or you learn to grow from it and do what you can to turn tragedy into something positive.   That's another reason I wrote the book. But I do miss him terribly and think of him everyday.

CP: Of everything that you've learned so far, what's the one truth you're absolutely certain of?

KR: That I was born to serve. In fact, my name, Karim, means "generous and giving". So if I didn't know it before, I know now why my parents gave me this name, and I'm committed to living up to it.

CP: What's next for you? Obviously you've not given up, but while the book ended positively I know folks are interested in what you're doing, planning and dreaming. Can you share that now?

KR:  (Pausing. . . ) Well, I'll put it to you like this: I'm working on a second book, which will be another emotional roller coaster. I've learned that sometimes, we have to take five steps back to move one step forward. So the next book will  be about life after Phat Farm.   I'm still learning, still putting in the work and still hoping for the best and believing in it. That's what I want people to know, life is constantly about adapting. Remember the Langston Hughes poem, "Mother To Son" (http://www.tnellen.com/cybereng/matoson.html)? Well, I've learned from my mother, and from people famous and not famous, that the poem is about a more common than an uncommon experience. And while my life "ain't been no crystal stair," I plan keep climbing that stair, no matter what. And I want to encourage others to keep climbing, too. Never give up.

Ramos' book, From Fat Farm to Phat Farm: Never Give up is available online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble, or his personal website http://www.fromfatfarmtophatfarm.com/.

I'll Be Back. . . February 28

2011-02-20T07:46:00.000-05:00

Dear Friends and Readers. . .
I Am My Own Cause, the blog, returns February 28. After 2 months of life, change and everything that comes with them, find out how I'm going forward, and you can, too.

Meanwhile, as we fast-forward into the year with no ability to slow down it's progress, a few words on success and sacrifice from someone whom you all know, Dr. Phil McGraw. Read the words without predjudice and own the power they give you:
"I have never encountered a successful person who didn't have to sacrifice in one area of life in order to be successful in another. If you have tones of resources in the monetary account but zero balances in the emotional, family, physical, and spiritual accounts, that spells a bankrupt life."

Consider, and apply. . . .

2010: My Favorite Year

2010-12-29T09:01:00.002-05:00

Ah, the end of another year. Time for reflection, looking forward and looking at where we are now, at this moment. When I began thinking about the year that's been I found myself transported back in time, to 1992, when Queen Elizabeth II, reviewing the year in which she'd celebrated the 40th anniversary of ascending to the throne, characterized it this way:   "Nineteen-ninety-two is not a year on which I shall look back with undiluted pleasure. In the words of one of my more sympathetic correspondents, it has turned out to be an Annus Horribilis". The term, by the way,  is Latin for "horrible year."

About right now, a lot of us may consider 2010 Annus Horribilis.  As years go, it has been a tough one, no doubt about it. But if it wasn't 2010, it was some year or several years, because if there's one thing I'm sure of it's that we all have years we'd just as soon forget. Nineteen-ninety-two wasn't a great year for me, either, for instance. It began with my mom passing in February and ended with me being part of yet another routine layoff at the then-McDonnell Douglas in Missouri during the height of defense cuts. Yeah, I remember it well as a pretty bad year.

The thing about bad years is that if you believe everything we experience teaches us something, you learn to look forward to challenging, difficult years with heightened expectation. You eventually understand that what you'll learn, even as you suffer through hardship, sustains you in better days.

It gets easier to do this the more you learn, of course. It takes me far less time to get to this point today than it did in 1992. In fact, it took about five years--1997--before I realized all the difficult moments I lived through in 1992 were necessary for me to move forward.   Without living through the bad, I'd have no appreciation for the good things, the blessings I've known since.    Don't get me wrong. I've had other bad times since then, but 1992 was the singular moment I remember in my recent history when I learned that when the house you've built your life around is demolished, save for the foundation, you can build a new one all over again on that same foundation.  It doesn't have to be the same house, you can shift the design and change the furnishings. You can build it anyway you want, but if you really want that house to stand you must build it stronger than it was before. So that's what I did and have been doing ever since.

Two-thousand-and-ten was nothing like 1992, for sure. But it wasn't a great year, either, if I'm being honest. There was a lot of upheaval in this life of mine this year. I think most of us would say that. There have been great changes, greater lessons and powerful realizations that continue to change the course of my journey for what I believe is the better. But while I've been going through it, well, it sucked. There's no other way to put it, really. Fortunately, that's why hindsight is a gift.

As I take a look back at 2010, the year I decided to free myself from all the material, professional and emotional buoys I'd been clutching to, thinking they were keeping me afloat, I realized I could swim on my own without them.   Still, from time to time I'm not sure if I have the endurance to keep swimming until I reach land and continue this journey of a lifetime. I get caught up in waves that knock the wind out of me; I tire of swimming against currents that seem hell-bent on preventing my progress; and I do wonder why I let go of the safety and comfort of complacency for this uncertain, choppy existence I'm in the midst of.

Then I do what I always advise everyone else to do: I get out of my own way. I take a deep breath, rediscover my resolve and pray. I pray for strength, patience and trust to carry me through until I make it to that shore in the unknown distance. It no longer matters how long it takes me to get there or how difficult it is to see what's ahead. I pray that all the experiences of my life that have brought me to this very moment remind me of the miracles, great and small, I've already witnessed in my length of years. I release all the consternation, frustration and doubt by surrendering my fear to God, trusting Him and acknowledging how He has sustained me through everything, every day of my life. When I do this, I'm able to keep swimming, every time.

As one year ends and another emerges,  I'm often struck by how so many people are hopeless, hurting and only able to see the tunnel when the light at the end of it is so much more inspiring.   Folks feel lonely, unloved, disconnected and unable to muster any sense that what lies ahead will be any better, and they needlessly suffer because they've found comfort in expecting the worst. This thinking isn't cynical, it's protective, actually. It's almost as if they're saying "I'm going to be disappointed with life, anyway, so why not just be disappointed all the time?" It breaks my heart that anyone would choose misery over joy, but a lot of people do because it's all they believe is possible.

I have a sister who used to, when I asked how her day was going would respond: "Same old, same old," every time. It drove me crazy. "How could each new day be the same old thing unless that's what you make it," I'd ask? I reminded her of the many blessings in her life, how she got through hardships and how, when she takes a moment to consider the truth, she knows each new day portends more chances to try versus more reasons for disappointment, worry, and uncertainty.   It took a lot of talking, repeated reminders and a couple of swift kicks in the butt, yet I'm proud to say that she no longer answers the same way when I ask her how the day is going. In fact, even when she's having a bad day she'll always say something like, "I'm not doing so good today, but I'll be better." And she believes it.

I wish I could get this message through to everyone who is miserable, sad, uncertain and doubtful about their life, this past year and what the new year promises right for each of them. I wish I could speak with every person who only sees what's "wrong" in their lives instead of what's still possible. I wanna grab 'em by the shoulders, shake 'em until they snap out of their self-imposed sense of doom and gloom, and force them to see that every day we're given an opportunity to try again is God's promise that he's not done with us yet. It's also a reminder that we shouldn't relinquish our faith, or doubt the paths of our  individual, divine journeys, even when the journey is difficult.

I wish I could do all these things, but I don't know if I'd convince everyone.  We tend to lose faith easily, we humans.   That's because we're fair-weather-faithful.

Let me explain.

When I realized how tenuous my own relationship with faith had been in the past, and how often I used to speak out of both sides of my mouth about it, I also knew I wasn't the only one. Like a lot of people I used to accept every great and small blessing that came my way without question. I thanked God for my good fortune, prayed profusely for more of the same, and literally danced with joy in celebration of my "blessings". It was all very public, this behavior. Like the behavior you see a lot at award shows, where it's become socially correct for winners to begin their acceptance speech with this line: "First giving honor to my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, for without Him nothing is possible."

Some of them really mean it. I wanna believe they ALL mean it, however. But after learning a thing or two about real faith, not just the professing of it with our mouths, the only way I can be sure they really believe is if they give equal honor when they're not winning the award, or lose their fame and fortune. If they offer up the same thanks under those circumstances, I'd never doubt them again. That's what it took for me. I had to live through 1992, a few years in between and yes, 2010, to know that my faith wasn't based only on the acceptance of joyous blessings, but the painful blessings, too. The blessings in disguise, so to speak, that make you confront the truth about who you are, where you stand and what you believe.

Over the years I've learned to offer praise when wonders happen in my life, and when the storms come, as well. I have learned to accept that even difficulties are blessings if you ask what you're to take from the experience. When I consider all the things I've lived through, experienced and learned from I know for certain that compared to the lives of other people, my problems ain't that serious. It's true, you know. There are always better people who are worse off than you are. When I accepted that everything--and I do mean everything--is part of a bigger journey God has in store for me than even I understand--I found it possible to be thankful for the burdens I bear, and discovered the courage to turn those struggles into moments of encouragement to assist others struggling along with their journeys. This ability to shift the focus from self, to others, to the world has been a true blessing and allows me to dwell in possibility, always.

Remember the response Jacob Marley's ghost shouted at Ebenezer Scrooge in Dickens' "A Christmas Carol", when Scrooge, trying to cajole the restless spirit, told him he was always a good man of business? "BUSINESS? Mankind was my business! Their common welfare was my business!" True words, these.

You see, it's hard to be sad, lonely, desperate or otherwise miserable when you're concerned with others, I've found. It's tough to wrestle with what you don't have when someone needs what you can give. And it's virtually impossible to look back over a year of challenges, missed opportunities, and whatever else it is about the year that troubles you when you accept that while you have troubles, you are not alone in knowing them, and that we all need help to swim that rough ocean that will eventually get us to shore. That's where the faith comes in. And that's why I believe in celebrating moments of hardship and difficulty as much as I do moments of immeasurable joy, for in these moments there is a clue about our journey, a lesson that will be lost to us if we don't embrace that all of life is purposeful, each day is yet another opportunity to try, and none of us is ever alone unless that's the choice we make.

So, here we are. The end of another year. We've packed a lot into a single year, haven't we? Just consider all you've experienced in the roughly 525,600 minutes of 2010 and what each has meant to you. But don't relive the feelings; relive the lessons. Every lesson that helps you know what you know about yourself today. Each teachable moment you've taken from the world around you. The thousands of experiences you've known that inform your doubts and fears, but also your hopes and dreams. Appreciate that this, your life, is still unfolding, evolving, becoming. Then realize that the journey is so very worth it all. The good times, the bad times and the in-between-times you still haven't entirely figured out. . .because it's life. You have it, can live it and can change it with the dawn of each new day. Awesome, isn't it?

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.

Today, for instance, I awoke as excited about what would happen as ever. I realized I have no answers about so much in my life right now, but I have another day to find those answers. I accept that I'm in an entirely different place than I expected on virtually every front that so many people think matter--professionally, financially, personally--but I've been worse and I've been better. And I will be, again. All I know is that I've lived in 2010. I've been up and I've been down. I've lost and I've gained. The more I've lived and experienced this life, the more certain--absolutely certain--I am that this year, compared with all years in which I've lived to date, is the one that helped me believe that I matter, have purpose and am free to be whomever I want, however I want. I've started over--and this is a gift--at 47 years of age and I feel like everything really is new again, hopeful and filled with possibility, because my journey continues. Finally, after all this time weighing the good and bad of my life, I've learned the most important lesson of all: you need no destination when the journey lies ahead of you.

Whereas the Queen and I had a really bad 1992, I can say that this year has been something altogether different for me (and I'd add pretty great for her, too) because it is the year I will call my "Annus Mirablis"--my "year of wonders".

Friends and kind readers, I pray the same for you and yours, not only in your review of this year, but for every year ahead. It has been my great and humble pleasure to share with you, laugh with you, and yes--even cry with you--via this blog. Your stories, your insights and your journeys have inspired me, provoked me to action and encouraged me when I needed a firm reminder of the nature of human kindness and the indomitability of the human spirit. You matter to me. And I thank you for letting me know with your comments, emails and purchases of the books based on this blog, that I matter to you, too.

Happy New Year, and Blessed, Be. . .

Are You Choosing Your Battles, Or Letting Them Choose You?

2010-12-16T09:56:00.000-05:00

When I was a kid I had a lot of fights. I didn't go looking for any of them but, if pushed, I'd fight anyone who threatened me. Didn't matter how much bigger they were or that they could take me out with just one punch. Whether there were several kids who wanted a piece of me or several dozen, I would fight until I couldn't. It was my nature at the time. I had a short fuse, grew easily tired of being "messed with" and had one goal: even if I didn't win, I would make sure whomever fought me knew they were in a fight.

Many of these fights happened during a really tough time in my family's history--when we were homeless. And you know what they say: Kids can be cruel. They're right about that. Being homeless and other kids knowing about it made me a prime object of ridicule and an easy target of attack by anyone who made themselves feel better by making me feel worse about the situation I was in. But I didn't just meekly accept the scorn, allow myself to be literally pushed around, or allow the weight of their words to crush me. I fought for the only thing I could fight for at the time: to be left alone.

It wasn't much to ask for. Yet no matter how I tried to disappear, make myself less tempting as a target or, sometimes, even join in the ridicule by making fun of myself with my tormentors, the only thing they seemed to understand (and willing to engage in) was fighting. So I did. Often.

Among the school's administrators I'd built a reputation, and it wasn't a good one. Like many educators do when they're overworked, underpaid and trying to make it through another day, they saw the problem and rarely the cause. It didn't seem to matter that in virtually all of the fights in which I found myself, I didn't start them or was frequently outnumbered or outmatched by someone bigger and stronger. All the administrators and teachers saw was that when there were fights, I could be counted on to be involved in some way. And that, it appeared, was all they needed to label me a troublemaker.

Once I was identified as a problem, they took to contacting my mom at work and asking her to pick me up. This was a problem. As I've mentioned, we were homeless, and what little money my mom made working at a bar not far from school was the only thing that allowed us to eat. Looking back at the condition we were in even then, I'm surprised today when folks still don't understand how you can work and yet be homeless. It's always been a reality for America, but obviously one we prefer to keep a dirty little secret. OK, I'm stepping away from the soapbox now.

Back to my point. As you can imagine, every time my mom had to leave that job to come and get me it was a big deal. I was unwittingly making things worse not only for myself, but my family. All because I was always up for a fight.

After one such fight, a particularly brutal one that I won (yes, I did keep track at the time) the assistant principal, Mr. Clark, called my mom for what seemed like the 50th time in the last three months. I remember hearing him say, half-mockingly, "Mrs. Poole, he's at it again." I wasn't "at" anything, I thought. This one guy, Dwight, had punched me in the face when I told him to leave a girl I liked at the time, Michelle, alone.

Mr. Clark was wrong about me, but again, he didn't see the cause behind my fighting, he only saw the problem. But even seeing the problem, he never really tried to solve it. He just did what made the problem go away: call my mom. I can't blame him for that.

My mom was old school, meaning that today she'd be labeled abusive because she didn't believe in sparing the rod, like many parents of the day and generations before didn't believe in it. And I've gotta tell ya, although she was a little woman, I knew not to mess with her because I'd definitely get what I had coming. Those were the days when parents taught their children there were consequences for doing wrong, before time-outs and coddling became the norm. Interestingly, I can never recall even one moment when I thought my punishment didn't fit the "crime" I'd committed. I mean, I was a little shit at times and deserved exactly what I got. This time, however, after yet another fight and yet another call, my mom had obviously tired of my repeat offenses and leveling the same punishment. As we walked away from the school after Mr. Clark once more warned that I was getting very close to being suspended from school, there was a long silence. My mom held my hand and we just walked, but I knew she had something on her mind.

After a while, she said, "Baby, what happened? What were you fighting about this time?"

Like kids do, I didn't respond to the question but just said what I thought: "It wasn't my fault! They messed with me, first," I said, referring to the three kids I'd been fighting, including that damned Dwight.

My mom paused a moment and tried again: "I know," she said. "But what did they do that made you fight?"

"They called you something bad," I said.

"What did they say?" she asked, sensing my hesitation. "Go ahead, you can say it."

"They called you a B-I-T-C-H" I responded, spelling versus saying it. I knew I wasn't supposed to curse.

My mom smiled, which wasn't the reaction I expected, and we walked a little bit further before she said: "Is that what you think I am?"

Hearing the question, I rushed an answer: "Noooo!" I blurted, shocked that she would have thought I could ever think that. But mom had some knowledge she planned to drop on me that day, and the next thing she said was so powerful that more than 30 years later I can hear the words in my head and remember her loving, thoughtful expression as she said it.

"So, if you know what they said isn't true, why would you fight about it?"

I told you it was powerful.

I think about my mom virtually every day and always will. Next year will be 19 years since she moved on from this world, but as I grow older the things she taught me and helped me understand about life seem to speak to me louder than ever before. I've particularly felt her presence around me the last couple of years, when I've had to look deeply inside and confront my past, adjust to my present and rediscover hope for my future. The last year. . . well, it's been something else. As challenging as it's been empowering.

That's when it hit me. The post-fight conversation I had with my mom all those years ago had been playing itself out this last year, and I didn't even know it. The wisdom of her simple question and the power of its obvious answer had guided me through one of the most challenging years of my life in the last decade. In the course of that year I somehow realized I'd been fighting battles I didn't need to fight, and I somehow found the courage to stop.

Let me tell ya, there's a lot of that going on among people everywhere. Chances are you, or someone you know, is in a battle about someone or something, too. The fight isn't always physical. It's emotional, spiritual. . .very human. We fight to be heard when we think we aren't. We throw a punch that lands in the face of hypocrisy when hypocrites attack our integrity. We kick and scream in retaliation against those who use spite, lies and a whole lot of other crap to bend us, break us or otherwise keep us down. And we do this to prove that they're wrong about us, as if fighting will ever change who our opponents are or the circumstances in which we find ourselves because we choose to fight. If you want to deliver a TKO, accept that the truth always does a better job of fighting our battles than we can . Fighting, on the other hand, doesn't. It only changes who we are and who we're perceived to be.

When mom asked me that question and I realized the power the answer gave me, I stopped fighting everything and everyone that directly or indirectly attacked me and mine. Eventually, my family's fortunes changed and I was more focused on what I could do to change the life we had, than on what other people thought about who I was or how I did it. And when I found that balance in life and my circumstances, and my resulting reactions to them changed, the lesson of my mother's life-changing question was eventually safely tucked away in my subconscious; a place where I could access it again when I needed to.

I accessed that lesson again in the course of the last year. It was about a year ago that certain truths about my circumstances began to reveal themselves in a flood of ideas and realizations that put me entirely off the course I was on, particularly in my professional life. It was in this area that I 'd felt most threatened, and was fighting to preserve for all I was worth. I fought the perceptions, the people and the very environment I found myself in because, honestly, I believed "they" started it, just like when I was a kid. Interesting, isn't it, how we often relive second childhoods without even knowing it?

At the time, because I believed "they" started it, I was bound and determined, just as in my youth, to make sure that even if I didn't win the battle, they'd know they'd been in a fight. At almost the very moment I was verging on obsession about winning the fight I saw myself in, something changed within me. I saw that God had chosen an entirely different path for me in literally every area of my life than the one I was on, and I understood that the life I thought I was fighting for wasn't worth it. The reason was simple: It wasn't mine to claim.

So, I stopped fighting.

Just as it was when my mom's wisdom changed my life as a child, the days I've had since have been fruitful with a sense of greater purpose, possibility and hope. I've no more battle scars and little-to-no-need to disprove what anyone else says or thinks about me. I've made decisions to let go of my dogged professional pursuits and passionately pursue my human, spiritual journey, wherever it may take me. I've let go of material things and have, as a result, felt richer than ever before. This life, a life without battles, casualties and rematches, is not the perfect life I'd imagined, but it's the perfect life for me in that it reflects the truth about who I am and what matters to me now. And I owe it all to giving up the fight, and to my mom, whose wisdom has remained with and sustained me all these years since she first gave it to me as a child.

These days I am unencumbered by anger and open to all manner of possibility. I am entirely certain the gifts my journey has bestowed upon me are to be shared with anyone and everyone I encounter, people I know, don't know, and will know. As I find the many moments at this point in my journey to open up, share and love, I have been blessed to connect with people who are still, much to their own disappointment, in the fight of their lives. Not a fight for their lives, mind you, but of their lives.

It's clear a lot of folks are still driven by what's been said or done to them; they number their war wounds and expect they'll endure others because despite knowing their truth, they fight lies and against unjustified attacks because they believe they have to. Because of this, I take every opportunity I'm given to share the story I've shared with you here today. I tell them how the lesson changed my life and can, if they allow it, change theirs. Then, I watch as recognition and realization take them over, forever changing how they will choose their battles from that day forward. It's a wonderful thing, this, and I frequently see their desire to keep on desperately fighting leave them when acceptance settles in. It's one of the most awesome experiences I have, and it's a blessing to witness what that freedom actually looks like.

Each time this happens, I realize that God gives us chances so that we might make choices. And with each person who embraces their truth by giving up the need to fight about it, I add one more soldier to the victory column, counting them among those who will forevermore choose their own battles, and not let the battles they'll encounter choose them.

How Can You Live With Yourself?

2010-12-09T06:35:00.001-05:00

In 1975 I was still a kid, but even then this verse from Al Green's song, Tired Of Being Alone, struck me as a bit odd.

"I'm so tired of being alone,
I'm so tired of on-my-own,
won't you help me, girl,
just as soon as you can."

Tired was a very popular song at the time, and I liked it and all but still didn't understand why the adults around me, particularly the women, would get all sad and upset while they listened and swayed to the music, usually with a far-away look in their eyes and a shot of J&B, straight up, chasing away what I recognize now was a longing for something they didn't have: someone to spend their lives with.

These decades later, I played Al's song again and I still like it. And I understand the song a lot more. But I still don't understand why someone who is tired of being alone--if they really are--doesn't do something about it but beg someone else to help them feel less lonely. So I set out to do a little research to find out if living alone is all that uncommon today, just to make a point.

What I discovered is that  there are "96 million people in the United States who have no spouse. That means 43 percent of all Americans over the age of 18 are single", according to the U.S. Census Bureau. "Single is defined as adults who have never been married, are divorced or are widowed in the bureau's America's Families and Living Arrangements survey of 2009.

"Of the singletons, 61 percent of them have never said 'I do.' Twenty-four percent are divorced and 15 percent are widowed."

OK. So technically they're alone, but are Americans lonely?

Well, yes and no. It seems the older we get the more lonely we become. But almost everyone feels a bit more lonely today than we did in the past. Social networking aside, the reason loneliness creeps into our lives is because we've grown less happy with ourselves and are uncertain we are worthy of supportive relationships with others. Not feelin' me yet? Well, you will.

We've become a nation beset by bullying, inspired by lifestyles of the rich and famous, accepting of incivility and classism. And as we've become this, the value we place on what we have to offer the world as the unique individuals we are tends to suffer. We spend a lot of time these days fixated on what we don't like about ourselves, what's wrong with who we are, how we look or what we can't afford. We create our own identities based on the people and groups we're associated with or connected to. Our jobs, our achievements or other renown is what makes or breaks us, and without those things we no longer feel special.  But when we go home, where an increasing number of us don't have spouses, significant others or children, we can't stand to be alone with ourselves. And it makes us sad, especially at this time of the year when it seems everyone has someone. . .but us.

See? That's the thinking I didn't get as a child and I still don't as an increasingly self-aware adult.

I, for the record, am unusual. It's all right, you can go ahead and progress to "weird" from there. I'm unusual because I have a very loving, very appreciative, very supportive relationship with. . .myself. I enjoy my own company. I look forward to time alone because work for me involves a whole lot of people, all the time. The best gift I can give myself is time by myself, with my dog and a good movie, alone as alone can be but never lonely.

I've never had the coupling gene or needed relationships outside of family and friends to sustain me.  But I don't have a lot of those relationships, either. And it's OK. When the holidays roll around I am not compelled to do anything other than I do the rest of the year--reminding the people in my life that I love them, they matter and that we're all still here, thank God.

With the exception of my youth, and one stint in 2008 where I tried and failed at being a roommate, I've always lived alone. But unlike some of my family and friends, I see the state in which I live as normal versus abnormal. Of course, that has more to do with the fact that I've never been much of a fan of the social traditions folks so readily embrace, anyway.

A lot of people I've come across don't understand is how it's possible, when I live alone, don't date and don't have any desire to ever--that's ever--get married or have children, to be happy.  They simply can't figure out why  I'm not emotionally distraught or desperately hunting for those cherished connections, like everyone else, so I can lead a much "fuller" life?

It's simple: I'm enough for me right now.

Yeah, I said it.

And for all the lonely people out there here's a newsflash: so are you. If you wanna be, that is.

My life is full because I choose to make it so. I'm not waiting on Superman to fix my relationship status, to make right the circumstances of my life. I'm ever-more-comfortable in my own skin and while I may not always like who I've been, I'm so excited about who I'm becoming. I am nurtured by the solid relationships I have with my family, my friends and, occasionally, new people I meet who arrive in my life to teach me something important on my journey.

I have an active social life. I enjoy movies, concerts, dinners at favorite restaurants. I've people who visit me and I visit. I travel and see and experience things I never thought I'd have a chance to experience. I love and I am loved. I have people I can turn to for guidance, a kick in the ass and encouragement when I need it. As I said, it's a full life.

When a friend recently told me how lonely he was my question to him was quick, and pointed: "Why?" I asked because I honestly can't fathom why anyone would choose to be lonely when they can be--as we all must--their own best friend.

I told my friend that if he wanted to change things he simply needed to begin by. . .changing things. Right now. If he felt lonely, find something to do that he enjoyed, whether there was anyone else to enjoy it with him or not. Stop using work and being tired as excuses to avoid interacting with others when he claims he wants to feel less alone.   And avoid, at all costs, engaging in "relationships" that are all about having someone in whom to lose himself so that he never has to be alone with himself, his doubts, fears and insecurities for more than a moment.

Instead, I encouraged him to spend his alone time getting to know himself, accepting who he is and that--with or without someone--he's enough, for now. I wasn't encouraging him to choose my course--the vast majority of people don't think or feel the way I do--but to set his own.  That means first realizing that he's not really alone, nor ever has to be, when he can choose for himself to live a full life. The next thing he has to do is realize that some of the loneliest people in the world are people supposedly in relationships, and that simply being in one is meaningless unless you're in it for the right reasons.   Take a look around; we have all the proof we need.

Finally, he has to be accountable for the opportunity each and every one of us has to first work on the most important relationship we'll ever have--outside of the one we have with God--and that's the relationship with ourselves. Believe me, when we start nurturing and protecting that relationship, we'll find it requires a lot of our time, a lot of our commitment. . .all of our dedication. We'll learn that in working on that relationship, we're becoming people who are worthy of, and ready for, real relationships others. And, perhaps most importantly, we'll grow to appreciate ourselves for the special people we all are.

What I know for sure is that God gives us chances and we have to make choices. This year, I hope you choose to give yourself the gift of yourself, free from loneliness and the fear of it, throughout the year. Trust me when I tell you this: It's the gift that keeps on giving, because once you learn to live with yourself, you'll be lonely no more.

My Personal Economy

2010-11-30T08:47:00.000-05:00

In January I wrote a post titled, "I Want More To Have Less." I wrote it after some serious thought about my life, the things I'd come to value more than I should have, and the life I aspired to live in order to be happy and fulfilled. Putting the words to electronic "paper" was a turning point for me, one that I've since learned was essential to my continued growth as a human being and guy happy with his life. In that post I wrote:

"I've been in recovery from that behavior (consuming more of everything from food to "nice things") for several years now. I've realized that more of whatever it is that (psychologically) triggers these behaviors is simply too much. I've defined my real needs and shrugged off the desire for anything but the basics I need to live an abundant life. Not just with regard to what I buy, but how I live and with whom I spend my time. As as result, I don't need price tags to know who I am. I don't need to hang out with the most connected and powerful people to feel important. I don't need everyone to like me to feel good about myself. I not only don't need those things--I don't want them, either.

"Instead, I want less of everything. It's a practice already at work within at least one area of my life. I'm kinda known as a neat-freak, and folks say my home looks like a furniture store showroom because nothing is out of place. That's by design, because I believe in "A place for everything, everything in its place." Rather than store stuff I have or imagine where I'll put things when I get other stuff, I get rid of what I'm not actually using. It's not a big deal. That's because I consider a cluttered home a reflection of a cluttered life. At this point, I'm devoted to everything being clutter-free.

"That's how I'm determined to live in all areas of my life. As I said, I want less of everything. Less drama. Less doubt. Less fear. Less uncertainty. Less inhumanity. Less hopelessness. Less reality television--seriously. Whatever it is that doesn't give me more appreciation for life, I want less of it.

"I endeavor to have less of all the things that don't support and strengthen my spirit. I have committed myself to enjoying the blessing of simply being alive. I have promised to open my heart and mind to the unlimited possibilities God grants me every day. And I have chosen to live a life that proves less is indeed more. In doing so I will trust that I will know a life that is more purposeful. More joyous. More real. More abundant. More worth living."

Nearly 11 months later, I'm happy to reflect back on what I wrote and realize that I didn't just say it--I've been doing it. Last month I sold my house (yes, even in this crappy real estate market). I took a bit of a loss on it, but I didn't care. The house, as beautiful as it was and as hard as I worked to get it and turn it into a showplace, represented a kind of prison to me. That's because with a mortgage and the constant threat of declining values, and constant concern about whether the property would sell when I needed it to, I was always held hostage to factors other than ones I felt comfortable with. So I sold it and moved into an apartment. There's less space, less upkeep and less worry in my life as a result. These days, as I make use of the space I need I don't have any sense of loss, whatsoever, over the so-called pride of home ownership I've given up. Home, I understand, isn't about where you live and what it costs and how others perceive who you are because of those things; it's where you know you're OK with your life as it is for what it is, and that's something you can't measure in square feet. Nope, I measure it by how firmly my feet are placed on the ground now.

During the time leading up to my deciding to sell the house and then selling it, I also decided that I couldn't be happy being a slave to debt. Granted, I've been a conspicuous consumer for a long time. I like nice, expensive clothes, watches, furniture, art and I even out-shoed Carrie Bradshaw's legendary love of expensive footwear. I shudder when I think how much money I've spent on stuff like that when I could've been doing something far more worthwhile with my income. But there's no benefit in regret about things like this. So I focused on the present and began hoping for the future.

That's when I eliminated debt from my life once and for all. Sure, I sometimes blink when walking past a jewelry store or appreciating the fine lines of an Armani suit or checking out the beauty of a new pair of Yves Saint Laurent Jonny Boots (which make me almost 5'10", by the way). Yet when I blink, I allow myself enough time before acting to let my vision--my clear vision--return. And I see that while it's fine to admire whatever it is I've come across, I don't want to buy it. I already have exactly what I need--no more, no less.

Selling the house and discontinuing the frequent purchases were a big part of my appreciating living with less "stuff" to have more joy in my life. But nothing has had a greater impact on my efforts this year than letting go of all the emotional baggage I'd held inside for years. It was like I had a fire sale on bad relationships in 2010, because I got rid of each and every one--integrity intact--and didn't blink an eye. Of all the things I've joyously let go of so far, however, these corrosive relationships have been the hardest. Why? Because choosing to let go of them required seeing each relationship for what it was. And let's face it, there are a whole lot of us who think our various relationships--from romantic, to familial, to professional--are something other than they are. But when we allow ourselves to see the truth and accept it, man, it can hurt like the dickens and make you question whether you've ever had any basic common sense. That's how it was for me, at least. I often found myself wondering: "How in the hell didn't I see this before?"

Once you get past feeling stupid, however, resolution sets in and you forgive yourself. And the phrase "never again" enters your consciousness and fuels your sense of self-worth and self-awareness. It was at that point in my journey that I realized if I were going to even have a chance to live the life I wanted, I had to get rid of every relationship that stood in the way of my doing so. I wrote about dispatching with Anger within this blog. I have also addressed professional relationships and the sting of disappointment I've experienced in this area before choosing to let certain of those relationships go, as well. But the relationship I had to work hardest to kick to the curb was the one I had with myself. It was a relationship decades in the making; strengthened by mistrust and uncertainty. It was abusive in that I was my own worst critic, never cutting myself a break. It was a relationship in which I became more concerned with what the world thought of who I am and what I represented than what I loved and trusted about myself.

At some level most of us are guilty of treating ourselves this way. Our personal economies are dictated by others' perception of who we are, what we stand for and believe. We invest everything we have in fitting in, belonging and having all the right "things" society tells us are important. And when we keep pushing that envelope and eventually go bankrupt--financially, emotionally and spiritually--life becomes a choice between giving up or growing up. Me? I chose to grow up.

When that moment came for me I cried, long and loudly, in appreciation of the gift of recognition I'd been blessed to receive. I finally knew why I wasn't happy and why, despite having virtually everything a poor black boy from St. Louis ever wanted, I had nothing that mattered because I didn't have a sense of self-love, self-worth or self-appreciation. There is more value in these than there can ever be in material things, social standing and the fickle perceptions of a world so consumed with everything and anything but faith, that it could drown out the voice of God if we weren't listening with an intensity that allows us to hear exactly what we're being told: "I am The Lord, Thy God, and you are not alone. You matter. I have a purpose for your life. You need not control the future, but you must live in the present and choose whether to follow the path I've laid out before you."

Thankfully, I heard the Voice. And guided by these words, I accepted what I always knew and trusted within my spirit--that every day of living is another opportunity to try. I let go of everything material, emotional and worldly I've spoken of and became, literally and figuratively, smaller in the world so that I could grow in spirit. I fully accepted that on my journey I have everything I need, less of what others think matter, and more of a firm grasp on my life than I've ever, ever had before.

So today, this is the measure my personal economy: I've lived through the depression. I've endured a lengthy recession. But these days. . . it's all about the recovery. That's why every day I begin and end my 24 hours by investing in hope, saving a little extra joy for a rainy day, and always banking on faith ,without fail. If my life in the last 11 months is a reflection of how this personal economic strategy is working, well, the returns are simply remarkable. Thank God for that.

A Thanksgiving Message

2010-11-25T05:47:00.000-05:00

Dear Friends,

I awoke this morning thankful for the blessing of having yet another day to. . .try. We're all God's perfectly imperfect sons and daughters, each facing unique challenges and knowing the power of his Grace, yet there are times when it may all be too much and we need to be reminded that we are not in this life alone. So this morning I am blessed to share with you this link to a "I Trust You," a song by James Fortune and Fiya that provides me such peace whenever I hear it that I wanted to share it with you so that you may take from it what you will, then pass it along to others who may benefit from its powerful message.

Many blessings to you all, and let this Thanksgiving be the one in which you reconnect with your spirit and the power of hope it provides, every day, when you trust Him to make a way.

Blessed, Be. . .

Charles

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BdpPmM33GJ0

A Different Way Of "Seeing" Where You're Going

2010-11-23T07:56:00.001-05:00

This morning while out walking Faith and praying for the day ahead and meditating on the day past, I saw a man dressed for work, walking across the street with a cane. I quickly realized he was blind and crossing the street before night had become day. It wasn't that he was crossing the street that worried me; I was worried about the people in cars--texting, drinking coffee and putting on makeup--who had not adapted to the "seeing without seeing" world that he has. For a moment, I thought I should help, assuming that he wasn't aware of the dangers around him as he crossed that street in darkness. It was the same too-helpful response many of us resort to when we think we are aiding someone who doesn't fit our idea of the norm.   The idea is one we promote by the labels we apply to such individuals: Handicapped. Disabled. But, in truth, those labels are wrong.

Dismissing my instincts, I didn't react and simply observed. As I did so, something wondrous occurred to me: The man was blind, but he knew exactly what he was doing and where he was going. He moved across the street quickly, but not in fear. And when he made it to the other side he folded his cane, put it away and waited at the bus stop just like everyone else.   What I thought should be a fearful situation for him was, in fact, commonplace.

I started thinking about what I'd just seen. Clearly, this was a lesson that I needed to learn.   As I enter a period of my life that is different from what I'd imagined for myself at this age, a great deal of what I thought would be certain at this point has become uncertainty, and I have to pump myself up every day to overcome the anxiety I feel having realized that. So, undoubtedly, I needed to be reminded that even when there's danger and risk all around you, and the potential for harm is high, the best and only option is to keep focused on where you're going and what you're doing. Few may understand our decision to move forward in life's dangerous "traffic", but when moving forward is the only thing you can do, no further motivation is required.

Think about that. How many times have we so immobilized ourselves with a fear of our environment, our circumstances, or our future that we have literally stopped our lives from moving forward? How often have many of us been so focused on the unknown that we fail to appreciate that we're alive in the present and somehow survived our past?   If you've read other posts I've made here you know I believe the biggest obstacle we face is getting in our own way. It's what we do when we act out of fear instead of live guided by hope. We get in our own way when we look for reasons to justify inaction versus thoughtful action. Getting in our own way blocks God's blessings because we're so focused on expecting the worst that we don't see the big and small blessings we're granted every day.

The man crossing the street today was blind. I don't know if he's always been so or whether it happened after he'd spent time as a seeing person. But what's remarkable is that regardless of how or when he became blind, he's living his life as it is for what it is. And you know what? He's not seeing what he can't do; he's seeing what he can. He was, without knowing it, such an inspiration to me as I was out walking, praying and meditating this morning that I was compelled to write this post after many weeks of getting in my own way so much, that I figuratively stopped crossing the streets that would take me where I need to go.

But with this lesson, which came to me as a gift and yet another sign that God tells us what we need to know all the time--when we're open to listening--I am moving forward again, taking essential steps that some people may see as blind. They believe I don't know what I'm doing or where I'm going, or that I'm unaware of the potential risks all around me. But what they don't know is that my path is clear and my journey is certain. I may not see what they see, but that's because they see only limitations where I see possibilities.

Like my intrepid friend this morning, I'm reminded not to let others' fears for me fuel my own. Granted, I can't see the future. I may make mistakes. But if I'm unwilling to make the journey how will I ever reach my destination? It's a question to which I'll never provide an answer. That's because I'm going to cross every "street" I come across in my life, even when others think I should be more risk-averse than hope-seeking. I have to cross those streets because anything else amounts to standing still, never changing, never growing--never becoming the me I'm intended to be.

Crossing all the various streets in life is something we all need to do. And while we need to calm the worry of those who love and care for us, and sometimes even people who are just inclined to believe we need their help, we've got places to go and cannot give in to fear when we could be on the journey of a lifetime. They must trust us as we've learned to trust ourselves. They must accept that we know what we're doing. And while they're at it, as I learned to do this morning, they might take a moment and learn from what they see: fearlessness, personified.

I Am My Own Cause, Too: Hope & Recovery

2010-09-27T13:19:00.002-04:00

Good morning and good afternoon, friends and readers. . .
I'm excited and pleased to share with you this sneak-peek of the cover for my newest book, based on my blog. It's titled I Am My Own Cause, Too: Hope & Recovery. This volume is focused on living, learning and loving, something we all can appreciate in our lives. I chose the title because I consider all of us to be on a journey and I'm sharing mine--lumps and all--in hopes that a regular life like mine can be used to inspire and encourage anyone who doubts that we're all going through something and have to find a way to heal.

That's very true of my life these days. Unlike the first book, where I was still questioning my purpose, in many ways I've discovered it in this volume. I didn't intend for there to be a second book, but I so wanted to share what i continue to learn with anyone who is interested, that I took a leap and decided to share my ups, my downs and lessons I've learned through it all. I hope you'll enjoy it.

As always, thanks for your loving support and encouragement. The book will be available later this year via Amazon.com and Barnes and Noble online. Look for it, get a copy (or several to share with people you love), and tell your friends.

Blessed, Be. . . .

Living A Positive Life Doesn't Shield You From The Negative

2010-08-21T09:40:00.000-04:00

God always whispers to me. But sometimes, he shouts.

Throughout my life he's had to shout at me no fewer than a hundred or so times, and it's always at the point when I'm going against what I know or what he's already taught me. Even today, after everything I've seen, experienced and embraced on my journey, I still get things wrong from time to time. But that, too, is part of becoming who I'm eventually intended to be.

The past few days God has been shouting at me repeatedly, though, and the urgency of his message made me take some time, consider the proof presented and admit that someone I thought had my back, as I'd had theirs, did not share the bond I thought we had. I didn't want to believe it, so I fought it. I justified the individual's actions and inactions and smoothed out the rough edges of my feelings. I was all kinds of emotional because what I'd learned was a major blow given all we'd been through together. But once I let someone into my life, I let them all the way in and don't look back. When I say I trust you, I mean it. So, as you can imagine, this bit of information hurt deeply.

Part of what I've been doing the past several years is trying to widen the door that provides people access to that level of my trust. I've had some successes and one major, ridiculously explosive failure. But I have continued to take the journey because I believe in it, much as I do in living life with a positive outlook, trusting that everything happens for a reason, and being as much goodness and light in the world as I can be. It's not unusual behavior among anyone who is trying to be more enlightened. We associate spirituality with being calm, smiling through suffering and having a heart as wide as the sea. We convince ourselves that we have reached some level of Zen and can rise above the world's attacks on our person and spirit. A lot of times, that's true. I've done it and chances are that you have, too. And the moments are awesome. Personally, I've felt so connected with God and the universe in such moments that I've been brought to tears many times. Powerful stuff, this feeling.

So it should come as no surprise that it's a sense, a feeling I want to experience all the time. In my quest for further enlightenment, I have accepted that how I think has everything to do with the life I create and live. Therefore, I work very hard not to think negative thoughts or let bad situations, people or circumstances separate me from my sense of hopeful well-being. This doesn't come to me naturally, as I've lived a life that from its inception has been filled with plenty of negative situations, people and circumstances, all from which I've learned a great deal. One of those early-learned lessons was that I should protect myself from hurt at all costs. And for a while, it was a good strategy. But as the years passed I realized that life is as much about risk as it is about recovery, so I stepped out of my comfort zone and asked God to show me the way to trust more, believe in life's possibilities and embrace both challenge and opportunity with equal enthusiasm.

I haven't looked back since.

My life, as a result, changed. My spirit changed. My sense of the world around me changed. In fact, some people are shocked by how much change I've made, none more than me. But I've learned to revel in the sense of freedom I've gotten from looking for the positive in life, and doing so has brought me some wonderful experiences, people and opportunities.   On the other hand, I do have my Pollyanna moments when, despite everything I see, feel and know, I'm so focused on seeing the bright side that I refuse to see the truth. It's an unfortunate outcome of believing that acknowledging the negative somehow diminishes a commitment to being positive. But vowing to be positive to the exlcusion of fact isn't being positive, it's being stupid. And that's all it is.

God has shouted at me over the past few days and awakened me to this fact. And he had to shout because I'd become quite adept at ignoring that one person in particular, and the circumstances surrounding their interactions with me, were killing my spirit. I've been doing the same thing for years now. It's been a bad relationship; one in which the worse I've been treated, the more I justified the behavior, explained away my feelings, and convinced myself that things aren't as bad as they really are. I'm not the only one who has done this. There are millions of reasons why any of us remain in bad relationships of all kinds, but in my case, it was my wanting to believe I could literally will a positive outcome, that led me to ignore the signs for so long.

I thought I could take the high road with this person I'd let in, this person to whom I've been loyal and for whom I made great sacrifices in the name of friendship. I did so despite knowing that the promise they made to me years ago was never kept, and they never accepted responsibility for not keeping it. I ignored how they took everything I had to give and always expected more, but never fought for me the way a true friend would--the way I had for them--unless doing so was to their benefit. I chose to believe the person when they told me how much they valued my abilities, contributions and skills.   But I was confused when, gathered in a room of their peers, my "friend" offered more silence than support when the subject involved me.

The more I was dumped on the harder I worked to "stay positive," and the more positive I convinced myself I was becoming, the more I instead taught the person that they could get away with treating me like crap, ignore my feelings and repeatedly disappoint me. I'd become, I realized, so positive that it had somehow become a negative in my life, at list in this situation.   All this was true because I didn't want to think or feel negatively about anything, especially a person I believed to be my friend.

So adept was I at ignoring personal warning signs to the contrary, in fact, that I even convinced others their issues with the person weren't issues, but only situations that needed to be looked at in a more positive light.   Yet as their lives were impacted by this person's arrogance, disloyalty and sense that they'd literally pulled the wool over all our eyes, I began to see the truth. And I struggled with it. I pushed it down when it rose up. And I prayed a lot for forgiveness that I wouldn't harbor such negative thoughts. It's ironic that I and others were being screwed, but I was the one praying for forgiveness. I'm able to laugh at the behavior now,  but it hurts to admit that I was so desperate to be positive that I'd led others down the wrong path. I hope they can forgive me.

It was only yesterday, after a phone call with my "friend" about matters involving the same shit but different flies, that a turn of phrase they used struck just the right chord with me at just the right moment, and I let myself hear, for the first time, the message God had been shouting at me for a few weeks now: "This is not your friend. This person doesn't care about you. All this person wants is to control you to the extent that it helps them get what they need from you."  My friend, who I've been loyal to, protective of, sacrificed for and helped make who they are, was lying to me and obviously, in certain settings, about me.    It was, finally, my deal-breaker: It's the one rule I maintain from the old days when I was all about self-protection that I still will not allow to be broken.

Somehow, I'd allowed this to happen, and I wasn't proud of it. But I understood why I did it for the first time, and I thought of myself in the context of a poem by Paul Lawrence Dunbar, "We Wear The Mask". Take a read and you'll understand:

We Wear the Mask

We wear the mask that grins and lies,

It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,--

This debt we pay to human guile;

With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,

And mouth with myriad subtleties.

Why should the world be overwise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?

Nay, let them only see us, while

We wear the mask.

We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries

To thee from tortured souls arise.

We sing, but oh the clay is vile

Beneath our feet, and long the mile;

But let the world dream otherwise,

We wear the mask!

In short, I did what I had to do to get through what I needed to. This wasn't friendship. It wasn't mutual respect and support. It was, alas, my way of dealing with the pain and suffering in my life by refusing to accept how it was consuming me, body, mind and spirit. It was an unnecessary attempt to see the good in the person and the situation when the person and situation didn't warrant it. My mask allowed me to hide behind a facade of happiness and contentment, and I wore the hell out of it. But yesterday, at the very moment I understood what I'd been doing to myself, I took that damned thing off: quick, fast, and in a hurry.

Interestingly, masked now removed I'm still positive about life. I still embrace opportunity. And I do believe there are good people everywhere in the world with whom I want and need to connect. But I no longer believe this person is one of them. And I no longer care what they think, do or believe about anything, particularly me. Yet I will pray for them, nonetheless. I will wish them no ill will. If, as people who think they're still running game will do, I'm asked by the person why I've separated myself from them, or why I'm disinterested in their life when I was once so interested in being a friend who was part of it, I'll respond using the name of a website I love that I found on Facebook. I'll tell them: "I'm not mad at you. I just don't fuck with you anymore."

When I speak those words, though they may disagree, the fact is that's the most positive thing I will be able to tell them, because it's the truth. I'm moving on, moving forward, and in the most positive direction I can. I'm just not bringing the baggage they have represented in my life along for the ride.

God hasn't shouted at me today. Instead, the whispers about the things that matter have returned and I'm listening, more attentively than ever. I am a positive person. I am committed to living the most positive life I can. But I'm not stupid. I've learned, thankfully, that living a positive life doesn't shield me from negative people, circumstances, or events. And you know what? I can live with that. I'm positive of it.

Life: Enduring The Challenges, Embracing The Possibilities

2010-08-11T07:40:00.001-04:00

Yesterday, I was informed that something I'd been pursuing with vigor and enthusiasm, and had actually convinced myself was going to happen, wasn't going to be realized. I can't say that I was upset or angry about it, because I wasn't. It was something that felt more akin to numbness, resolution. It was an odd reaction for me. As sleep helped me work it all out over the course of the night, I discovered, as I've written in this space before, that a little sleep inspiration goes a long way toward putting our mind right and getting our spirit back on track.

Sleep is a blessing, for during the hours in which we engage in it, the subconscious analysis of life's challenging events and experiences confirms that while life may never be easy, it's always worthwhile. Even when life isn't what we'd hoped for, or when we've no idea where it's going or how we'll deal with what it is or isn't, the lessons of it consistently reaffirm that every experience we have is a preparation for whatever comes next in life. The lessons are always there; we just have to look for them.

So it was this morning, when I awoke aware of a friend's brain surgery today and the awesome courage she's shown in seeing the surgery as part of her journey rather than the potential end of it. I understood the lesson when I thought of a former colleague and ongoing friend, who like millions of Americans is waiting for a job offer after being out of work for several months now. I considered how hard he works to find things to be encouraged by and, from time to time, laugh about when it would be understandable if he just broke down and cried under the weight of the uncertainty and doubt being unemployed burdens anyone with.

Then, my mind traveled to others I know: a mother who lost a son to war; a husband and father diagnosed with cancer; the family of a man whose sudden death a week ago has left a void that can never be filled. I think of a friend who has had his trust shaken to the core and his business significantly impacted as a result, but still believes in everything possible and positive. These thoughts give me pause, reason to give thanks, and the ability to accept that whatever we're going through, we'll come through it better, stronger and more hopeful than before if we just give ourselves permission to believe and hope.

I am perhaps the biggest fan of Gospel artist Yolanda Adams, which is why almost daily I listen to something she's sang. Lately, I get a lot of strength from "This Too Shall Pass," a song that reminds me of a truth easy to forget whenever I get caught up in my own thinking, give in to fear about the direction of my life, or just feel a tremendous weight of hopelessness when I am having a particularly bad day. Believe me, just listening makes a huge difference and restores my spirit. How couldn't it, with lyrics like these:

In the middle of the turbulence surrounding you

These trying times that are so hard to endure

In the middle of what seems to be your darkest hour

Hold fast your heart and be assured

This too shall pass

Like every night that's come before it

He'll never give you more than you can bear

This too shall pass

So in this thought be comforted

It's in His Hands

This too shall pass

These words replayed in my head, over and over again this morning, when I walked my dog and the world slowly came to life around me.   They continued to stay with me as I prayed, did my very best to connect to the healing power of God's love and refused to give in to any sense that all hope for better things was lost. I tapped into the energy of everyone I've mentioned here and realized that despite the tremendous challenges and hardships in their lives, they are going on, doing the best they can and trusting that something is coming their way, something God designed just for them; a bridge to carry them from where they are to where God intends them to be.    And I knew: Indeed, this too, shall pass.

Earlier here, I mentioned that I was just numbed by the disappointing news I received and how odd a reaction it was for me. Now, I understand why I felt as I did. It's because this "opportunity" I thought I waiting for wasn't mine to claim. It wasn't what God had in mind for me. It wasn't my blessing. Granted, I was disappointed. But life can be full of disappointment. The truth is, it's not disappointment, loss, heartache, pain or suffering that define a life. It's our consistent ability to rely on faith to carry us through to the other side, where our blessing lives and is ours to claim. And it's our journey to make.

I also understood, after thinking a bit more about the good people I've mentioned here and so, so many others, that if I'm being honest, there are millions of far better people who have faced more challenges and hardships in their lives than I have. People who have known far greater disappointment. That doesn't mean that my challenges and hardships are any less important; it only means that I have the power to determine how much importance I assign them in my life.   That's true for all of us.   And it's exactly why when trying times are hard to endure, we must hold fast our hearts, and be assured. We have to get out of our own way so that possibility can find us.

I stumble from time to time, but mostly, I live in hope of possibility. But to do so, I've also had to realize I must live with challenges and inevitable disappointment, frequently in equal measure.  We all do.   That' the lesson. It's the only path to peace, to joy. . . to God. As Buddhist nun Pema Chodron has said, "We spend our lives avoiding the situations that help us grow. It's when we stay with uncertainty and discomfort without trying to fix it that we connect with our own innate joy, wisdom, and love."

I know this is true. After yesterday, it would have been easy to wallow in self pity, to sense that I was right to mourn for the dream of what could have been that now will never be, at least with that opportunity. But in this, a new day, with a clear head and hopeful heart, I am instead thankful to have withstood disappointment and be here for yet another day, and to try again.

I am thankful to endure life's challenges, because I am, as a result, more open to embracing its possibilities.

Stuff My Dog Has Taught Me. . .Lessons of Faith

2010-08-06T09:37:00.000-04:00

When I told people who know me well what I'd done, there was, inevitably, silence.

"I got a dog," I told them.

One beat. Two beats. . .30 beats.

"Oh. . ." they'd say. "YOU got a dog? What made YOU decide to do that?"

I didn't take the emphasis they placed on the fact that it was me getting a dog personally. Hell, a few years back my reaction would have been the same. I've spoken about getting a dog for the last 15 years, at least, but always ended the conversation with a list of reasons why it wouldn't work.

"Dogs are too needy."

"I don't have the time."

"I have allergies."

"I can't risk getting a dog and have it ruin my things."

Lots of reasons, but no real excuse. The truth was, I was afraid of being responsible for another living thing, other than myself. I didn't know if I was up to being depended upon, needed and expected to take care of a life that I'd brought into my life. So I played it off. I used my well-documented eccentricity to confirm that the idea of me having a dog was akin to Whoopi Goldberg getting a perm; it just didn't make sense.

Secretly, however, I wanted one. Something small, with a barrel chest and short legs, just like me. I favored Jack Russell Terriers and Chihuahuas because they fit the bill. And I like the idea of them because they're little dogs and, honestly, some of my issues about having a dog were very much based in fact: I refused to clean up after a dog that poops waste as big as a human. It wasn't going to happen. I also wanted a dog with very short hair as I do have allergies, but more importantly, I didn't wanna be one of those people who are always covered in dog hair. You know the type. They always seem to wear clothing that most shows just how covered--from head-to-toe--they are in dog fur. It kinda grosses me out. And they're the first ones to invite you to ride with them when there's a lunch outing or some event, and you open the door and the interior of the car looks like the fur flew and landed everywhere within the car's cabin.

Nah, it had to be a dog with short hair, and the smaller the better.

These were the things I knew for certain. Still, I didn't do anything about it other than talk about the idea from time to time, as if I were daring myself to admit, honestly, that I wanted a dog very much. I think I was hoping someone could convince me that I could live with a dog, deal with my doubts and be the happier for it. No one ever did.

It was about a month ago that I finally decided, on my own, that it was time. I was tired of spending most of my time in my own company. I was lonelier than I was willing to publicly admit and needed a companion that I could live with. Interestingly, the idea of that companion being a person never occurred to me. Been there, done that. Got burned. Prefer a dog.

I'd also considered a cat--I do like their independence--but I simply can't get past the idea of a litter box or the fact that cat pee is one of the most potent chemical combinations on the planet. Once it hits any surface it's not going anywhere, ever. So no, not a possibility.

When I'd finally rendered my decision I decided I'd go for the Chihuahua. Jack Russells are a little too aggressive for someone like me, and I had dreams about such a dog chewing through everything I owned. I began looking for Chihuahua breeders but couldn't find any close enough. I called a local SPCA and almost lost consciousness after they rattled off all the screening steps I'd have to go through just to be considered.

Briefly, I gave up the idea. That night, however, I was restless and awoke, turned on the television and came across that commercial with Sarah McLachlan singing "I Will Remember You" as they paraded some of the most heartbreaking images of shelter dogs and cats I can remember across the screen. I got up, turned on the computer and checked to see if there was a local Humane Society. There was. Later, at a decent hour (it was around 3 a.m. when all this happened) I called them about a couple of Chihuahuas I'd found on the site and they encouraged me to drive out and visit. There were a few, which I eventually learned were all taken from the home of hoarders, that interested me. But one, which they'd named Chi Chi, just looked right and, as a result, felt right, even in a photo.

I headed out to the facility, which was a farm-like setting, and I met the dogs. One little, 3-lb dog was so tiny I was afraid of it. And, to be honest, it would need a lot more care than I would be able to give it after the ordeal it had been through. My heart went out to it but sometimes you have to accept that you can't do things, and this was one of those times.

Then, I met Chi Chi. She wasn't dismissive, but she wasn't chomping at the bit to go home with me, either. She was interested, but not overjoyed that I was considering her. For me, however, it was love at first sight. I knew she was the one.

To my surprise I was able to take her the same day. I was entirely unprepared. I found myself driving home with her on my lap, which I've since learned is her preferred spot, and stretching her neck to look around and observe everything going on outside the car. She was unafraid. She was curious. And she was letting me know, "OK, you may just work out."

On the way home I stopped at a Petco because I had to get dog-ready. More than an hour later I walked out about $600 poorer and loaded down with almost all the dog paraphernalia known to man. Who knew they had car booster seats for dogs?

We made it home and Chi Chi (I knew I was going to change that name) gave me the impression she was afraid to walk up the stairs in the house. I figured that was normal so for the first several days I carried her up and down the stairs whenever we needed to use them. Then, one day, while on a lower level I had to go upstairs to get something I'd left behind in my bedroom. When I walked out, there she was, in the hallway, wagging her tail and standing on her back legs doing the weirdest (and funniest) little dance I've seen. Finally, she felt at home. (I know now, by the way, that she'll act as though she's unable to come up the stairs when she's feeling lazy, so I sometimes play along just because. . .)

In the near-month since she's been in my life we've both made adjustments, embraced change and realized that we're pretty damned good together. A big change is that she is no longer Chi Chi. I simply couldn't see myself on the street calling out to her with that name. Maybe it's a guy thing. I dunno. I wanted a name that, like other things in my life, speak to my effort to embrace all things possible and positive. So I named her Faith.

Faith has brought me more joy than I imagined, but everything I'd hoped for. She's a part of my life in the truest sense, in that I have changed who I was for her. Faith is a companion who has reminded me what it's like to share life instead of just keep it to myself. And she came at just the right time; I needed a connection that I could turn my focus upon so that I wasn't so focused on myself. That is, so focused on things in my life that weren't working, happening or occurring as I'd hoped. She was the answer to an unspoken prayer, and in arriving when she did, when my heart and head are so open to what lessons life continues to provide, she's also become a teacher. If I were to summarize the lessons she's taught me so far, I'd do it this way: Faith has taught me, that words don't really matter; actions do. Believe me, although she can't speak, her actions speak volumes. And that's a good thing. I never have any doubt about where I stand with her. And I always know what I did to cause her behavior without any explanation. In this way, Faith has helped me appreciate how much my behavior and actions shape the equal or opposite reaction I receive. Her lesson is simple: I know what I did, but you know what you did. Take responsibility.

Specifically, however, there are 10 things I've learned from Faith that I believe we can all apply to how we live our lives. If you consider and apply them, which I've certainly been doing, you'll soon realize that we can learn from anyone, or anything, if we're simply willing to open ourselves up to the message, regardless of the messenger. So here, in no particular order, are Faith's lessons, so far. And what I know for sure is that as we continue to spend time together, she'll teach me even more.

1. Stop and marvel at the world. Whenever I take her out to walk and "do her business", Faith always stops and listens. I don't know what she's listening to, but it holds her attention. When she's done, she moves on. She stops and looks at an ant crawling in her path, the people across the street, a leaf that has fallen from a tree after watching its descent. Everything and anything fascinates her and she takes it all in, as if to acknowledge that everything around us is mysterious and marvelous. Through her, I've learned to slow down, enjoy the walks and take in more, too. And as a result, I'm falling in love with the world around me, all over again.

2. Training doesn't trump nature. It turns out that, fortunately, Faith is housebroken. That was a huge relief for me as I didn't have a clue as to how to train a dog to go outside to pee and poop. However, there have been several times when she's gone inside the house, almost always on a favorite, expensive area rug. Not on the dark areas of the rugs, but always in the light-colored areas most likely to stain and ruin. The first few times I was incensed. But in the weeks and days lately, I realize this: If I'd paid attention to her and the signals she always gives, I'd know when she's telling me she has to go out. I'd get off the phone, strap her into the harness and lead, and get it done. When I don't, well, nature takes over. Some things, no matter what we're trained to do, are in our nature and have to be taken care of even at inopportune times and inopportune places. Once I accepted that, I became far more comfortable with the fact that accidents will happen, but even more attuned to the signals I'm given that let me know when an act of nature is about to occur, so that I can either prepare for it, or prevent it altogether.

3. Sometimes we don't choose who we end up with, and that's a good thing. Faith didn't pick me, I chose her. I've no idea whether, if she'd had the choice, she would have chosen me to live with. But that's the beauty of things. While she had no choice she's made the most of it. She knew no more about me than I knew about her, but somehow, we're making this work. There have been some bumps along the way, some challenges and certainly plenty of good things, but no one foretold the future here. We've both had to find our way and find it, together. If we approached our human relationships in the same way, who knows what the possibilities would be? Maybe we should try and find out.

4. All I really need is to be with you, around you and acknowledged by you. I've discovered that I like to snuggle. Nothing brings Faith more peace and comfort than being on my lap, having my arm around her or resting, curled into a perfect C-shape, next to my thigh, on my bed. When I move around the house she's right at my heels, and when I sit down she lies down somewhere close, just because that's where I am. At first, I wasn't sure what to think of all this togetherness. But now, I can't imagine living without it. When I travel for work, I miss her nearness dearly. I find myself looking behind me expecting her to be there, and when I return home, I look forward to finding myself pushed to the very edge of my California King-size bed by a dog weighing a little more than 6 pounds. Every day Faith proves that I am the one she's here for, the one she wants to be with, around and next to. And I, in turn, have succumbed to my inner snuggler, as a result. That's why when we're apart, I can't wait until I have her near, again.

5. I'm going to make mistakes and you will, too. Let's just get past it. I mentioned earlier that Faith has soiled some very expensive area rugs in my home, several times, in fact. On one recent occasion I was so angry that I yelled at the top of my lungs and ran after her, frightening her more than I knew. As it turned out, she was sick, which is why these were but accidents instead of intentional incidents. After I'd cleaned up the mess, let my temper cool and realized that all was not lost because she'd both peed and pooped on the carpet, I called to her. She wouldn't come to me. I called again and she slowly walked toward me, head bowed, submissive instead of vibrant, tail tucked instead of wagging, spirit broken instead of soaring. This went on for several days. I knew what was wrong: I'd lost her trust. I don't know what happened in the environment from which she came, but I'm pretty certain there were some issues that taught her to fear certain things, a raised voice being one of them. It was unfair of me to become so angry with her, and I was heartbroken that I made her feel that she was more burden than blessing. So I started making amends. And I made her a promise that I'd never raise my voice, or get angry with her again. I now realize that anger is never an appropriate response to a mistake. The circumstances don't matter. Going forward, I know she'll do her best not to make another mistake like soiling my carpets. . .and I'll do mine to always stay cool. But even if she does have an accident, all I'm inclined to do now is whip out the Steamvac, clean up the mess, and move on. I'll never do anything again that makes her feel she can't trust me. It's simply not worth it.

6. I'm smarter than you think. (I'm a dog, not a doofus). One of the items I bought at Petco was a gate, allegedly designed to prevent dogs from going places you don't want them to go. They're very similar to baby gates, although I hope the baby gates are more effective. Let me explain. Early on, I'd put the gate up to keep her from wandering downstairs from the upper floor of my home, where we both spend most of our time. But eventually, I also placed it at the doorway between the master bedroom and master bathroom, and at the doorway of the master bedroom and the hallway outside. And it worked, the first few times. Then one day, after putting the gate in place and leaving the house to do errands, I returned home to find Faith at the door leading from my garage into the house, dancing, wagging her tail and very glad to see me. I was amused and surprised, then wondered, "How did you get out?" When I finally made it upstairs and checked the gate, I realized I'd left enough wiggle room for her to manipulate the gate and get out. "OK," I thought, "I'll just secure it better next time." The next time, I thought I did. But when I came home there she was, dancing, happy and not at all mocking my inability to keep her fenced in, although she would have been right in feeling that way. Repeatedly, I tried and failed to keep her secured, so I just gave up and bought a kennel, from which she has not yet found a way to escape. But I don't doubt, in time, she'll master a Houdini-like escape from it, too. Faith is incredibly smart, obviously resourceful and not at all "just a dog". In fact, none of us should ever come across anyone or anything and assume we are smarter than they are, because as Faith has shown, what I think she's capable of is none of my business. She knows what she can do, and I should never underestimate her.

7. You may think you're responsible for taking care of me, but I'm really taking care of you. It's funny that when we get ourselves a "pet" we have the impression that we're their caretakers. But if anything, especially in the case of a dog, we find that the pet takes care of us. And they do it unconditionally. With Faith, I've benefited from her innate ability to tap into my emotions and show up just when I need a little affection or something to distract me when I'm spending too much time in my head with the doubts that sometime lurk there. She lays her head on my chest, as if to indicate that she understands, and in the moments that follow goes to sleep; safe there, comfortable there. Many times, I soon find myself slumbering, too, knowing that at the moment, this little dog is reassuring me everything will be fine after a brief nap. She hasn't been wrong, yet. Granted, I may feed her, walk her, get her groomed and take her to the vet. But every day, she values me. Listens to me although she can't engage in conversation and respond. And she gives me the pleasure of her company and the encouragement of her dedication to me, though I'm not sure I deserve it. For the first time in a very long time, someone new in my life actually has my back, and is as attuned to my needs as I am to theirs. If someone had told me a dog could do that I would have laughed. But thankfully, I'm not laughing now.

8. You're supposed to share, and I'll teach you how. Before, my life was entirely about me. Everything. Now, much of it is about Faith. Feeding her, playing with her, walking her. Trips to the vet. Grooming appointments. Having her boarded in a safe and gentle facility when I travel. Wondering if she's feeling well. Making sure she feels loved and protected. I thought I'd hate it. But I love it. Friends have freaked when I tell them that what began as a treat--letting her on MY bed--is now routine. I sometimes laugh out loud at just how wrapped around her little paw I am; she's got me and I don't have a problem with it. I have to work a little harder because having a dog is no joke, but it's a privilege to hang out with her, be there for her and worry about her. I gladly give her everything she needs (and a hell of a lot of what she wants) because she's mine and I'm hers. I love sharing it all. Faith makes me wonder, if I'd had children, would I be an indulgent parent? I don't think so. But I would have been one who considers them a gift you live your life being thankful for. Faith has helped me realize that despite what I thought about myself, I more than have the ability to make room in my life for others, to share with them and to care for them. . .and enjoy doing it. And really, isn't that what life is about?

9. It's necessary to play. Faith doesn't like dog toys. At all. I bought a ton of them and when I try to tempt her to play with them by making them squeak or rolling them around, she looks at me as if I'm a fool. (And when you're a guy speaking in a baby voice and dangling squeaky toys, that's a fair description.) No, faith likes to run, and jump and chase--with me. We have great fun being silly together. Then, after some hyper-play we find ourselves, exhausted, in a recliner or on the bed, recovering. Neither of us are spring chickens, ya know? I haven't had anyone or anything to play with in this way since I was a child. I'd forgotten what it's like to just let go, have fun and be silly. It's nice, really. And necessary. And it's something of which I intend to do a lot more in the days ahead; I've Faith to thank for reminding me.

10. I ain't too proud to beg; why are you? It didn't take long for me to realize that, preferentially, Faith was none too pleased with the canned concoctions and dry kibble marketers call dog food. She's also not a big fan of the treats they make, especially the ones that are supposed to help clean dogs' teeth. Trust me, I've tried all kinds of food and treats but the fact is, Faith likes "people" food. When she initially wouldn't eat I found that I could convince her to eat the Caesar brand, and she'd nibble at the Chef Michael's brand of food. But when it comes to treats, the only treat she'll eat are Canadian Bacon Snausages. When Faith really wants to eat, she wants what I'm eating, but I know she can't have anything but a scrap every now and then, so I had to be creative. The result: She eats rice with vegetables and chopped chicken breast and LOVES it. And actually, it's good for her. Still, that doesn't stop her from begging for whatever I'm having. And man, can she beg! Between dancing, smiling (yes, she does) and using her paws to bashfully touch her face, I'm so charmed by her that I really have to work at not giving in. Mostly, I don't give in but sometimes, I do. It doesn't matter how frequently I do. She's not concerned with her percentage of success; she figures anytime she gets anything is a win. That's why she will always try, and she'll always beg. I've learned a little something from her approach. I used to say that I wouldn't beg anyone for anything. But you know what? What harm is there if, on occasion, you get what you want as a result of begging for it? It's not like Faith loses any integrity or is somehow demeaning herself. I wouldn't be, either. But a little begging can, from time to time, be just what we need to get what we really want, even if we don't always get it. Hell, men have been begging the fairer sex since the beginning of time, and Keith Sweat made a recording career after perfecting R&B begging. That's why in my book, it's like my mama used to say: "Nothing beats a trial but a try." And thoughtful begging, it appears, is always worth a try.

God is good, always. I know this because I never expected to be in love with a dog at this time in my life, let alone write about it so openly for everyone to see. But I believe that God gives us what we need, even when we don't know we need it and have done a lot to convince ourselves that we don't want it. But the fact is, I am in love with a little dog. That's huge to be able to admit that. And it's proof of my growth. But more than anything, it's evidence, both literally and figuratively, that all any of us need to live abundantly, is a little faith.

I Broke Up With Anger And Found Love

2010-07-07T08:18:00.016-04:00

I've been having a love affair with Anger for the last decade or so of my life.

As much as it pains me to admit it, it's the truth. And as difficult as it was to get out of that relationship, I knew it was no good for me. Anger as a constant companion required all my energy, expected everything of me and wanted me to build my world around it.

I gave Anger some of the best years of my life, and it was only when I realized that I had no one to blame but myself for staying with Anger so long, that found the strength to end the relationship. We no longer had anything in common, if we ever did. I'd outgrown Anger. I'd become a different person. But Anger had a hold on me that was tremendously difficult to break. I let years and years go by because I was more afraid of what I could become without Anger than I was of what I would become by staying with it.

The turning point for me was when I realized that Anger wasn't satisfied to have control of my life; it wanted my soul. I had given over almost everything to Anger at that point, but I couldn't do that. Despite it all, I secretly trusted my soul's insistence that I could have something in my life other than Anger. I believed its whispers within that told me Anger wasn't my ally, but my enemy, disguised as my most loyal friend.

Anger was never my friend, however. It was more Svengali, meticulously controlling my sense of self worth, responsibility and hopefulness with classic passive/aggressive ease. It convinced me that the real was false and that the false was real. It told me that keeping my distance from other people and new experiences was always the safest bet, because no one was really interested in being there for me; only in what they could get from me. Anger taught me to be distrustful and manipulative so that I could protect myself from what it promised me would be pain, loss and disappointment if I let anyone or anything, save for Anger, into my life.

Anger said the ability to love and be loved was a crap shoot, best left to dreamers who can't see that life is hard and only gets harder. The best thing you can do, Anger said with authority, is be untouchable, unblinking and undeniably certain that Love is but a distraction that gets in the way your goal to live well, have a great career and not be tied down by the weight of its expectations.

On the other hand, Anger said it was all I really needed. And for a while, at least, it lived up to its billing: I didn't get hurt by anyone. I was adept, guided by Anger, at doing whatever I had to do in pursuit of my goals. My currency was intellect, not emotion, and anyone who tried to sway my approach to life was almost immediately dispatched with, much to Anger's delight.

Together, Anger and I coexisted exceptionally well. How could we couldn't? I was Anger's constant plaything, never expecting anything more than nothing; Anger was my life partner, demanding and desirable, and uniquely able to convince me that as long as I had Anger on my side, I didn't need anything, or anyone, else.

It was only a few, short months ago that I broke up with Anger for good. When I did, it took a lot of courage. I mean, how do you say goodbye to something you've relied on for so long? How do you let go of everything that with Anger, you've built your life around? These were big questions that years ago I'd never have had an answer to. But when I asked them this time, the answer was the same to every question: You say goodbye and let go when you realize that you want a different life than the one you have, and the opportunity to pursue it on your own. You say it when you realize, once and for all, that Anger don't love nobody, because Anger is--more than hate--the opposite of Love.

Maya Angelou wrote in All God's Children Need Traveling Shoes, "I always knew that fury was my natural enemy. It clotted my blood and clogged my pores. It literally blinded me so that I lost my peripheral vision."

When I finally left Anger, I regained my peripheral vision. And do you know what I saw when I used that vision? I saw that Love was waiting for me, all along. It was there throughout my relationship
with Anger. It kept pace with me despite my constant claim that I didn't need it, didn't want it and didn't deserve it. Love was what spoke to me in whispers even while I slept with Anger. It was what motivated me when Anger broke me down, and then took pleasure in my needing it to build me up again.

Love, I've learned, was always teaching me to have hope, to build trust and to keep the faith that life was so much more than a series of days, each more spiritually and emotionally destructive than the one before. Love didn't hide in the shadows with me the way Anger always chose to. Love revels in my enjoyment of the time we spend together--which is all the time these days--and doesn't even mind Public Displays of Affection when I hold fast to it when I'm most uncertain, afraid, or. . .just because.

Every now and then Anger calls me up and wants to talk, and I can now listen and easily dispel its lies because Love compels me to forgive Anger, and myself, for our mutually enabling affair. Then Love tells me to go out and share what I've learned with others, so that my experience can help them find their way to Love, too, willingly and certainly.

Today, Love and I are still together. And I'm sharing it, expecting it, and appreciating it more all the time. Admiring its strength and unconditionality. It is the relationship I've always wanted and always needed, though it took a long time to find it. I shouldn't really be surprised at myself, however. As a human being I'm wired to be in love--with life, with others, with God and the spirit of my best self within. The need we all have for love is best expressed by author Annie Proulx, who said, "This is a deep, permanent human condition, this need to be loved and to love."

I hope you agree. And I hope you'll keep that in mind if you're in a bad relationship of any kind, even when it's a relationship with yourself. After all, it's that relationship (or lack thereof) that defines how open to--or closed off from--love you are. More often than not, when the relationship is bad you already know it. I did. You just have to believe that you can have something better. When you find the courage to act on what you believe, let Love in. I guarantee you'll find that once you do, you'll also find the courage to live again and, if you're lucky, love forever.

Face The Sun And Live Again

2010-06-29T05:59:00.047-04:00

Sometimes, I confuse myself.

I know what my blessings are, have experiences that prove how we can be more than our limitations, and have been able to consistently over the years learn and grow in ways that keep me connected with and to my spirit. Yet, despite all this, I still struggle from time to time with a sense of uncertainty and irritating doubt that leaves me feeling miserable.

I'm sure I'm not the only one who deals with this. In fact, I know I'm not. But what adds insult to injury in my case is that when I think about it, I know I have no reason to feel that way. The truth hurts, but the truth is that in all honesty, I am victim to nothing other than my own perspective.

Let me explain. This morning, I re-read an email from a friend at work who informed me that a colleague recently told her he was diagnosed with a rare form of leukemia. I know of the person she mentioned, but don't know him well. But whenever I hear of anyone suffering from disease, my heart goes out to them and I automatically include them among those I pray for. As I read her note further, however, I was humbled when she said, "I told him to reach out to you 'cuz you are so freaking positive." That sentence prompted another reaction: I felt incredibly guilty.

My guilt multiplied when she added, "He is too, by the way," referring to the colleague recently diagnosed. "I could not believe his attitude on the phone--amazing."

Wow, I felt like a complete ass. I mean, here I am this morning, immobilized with irrational uncertainty about the direction of my life, and yet, someone who has spoken with me and read my opinions about living abundantly saw me as a positive person; a guy who could help someone else facing questions about his mortality. And that person, despite learning of his diagnosis, found strength and courage enough--in the face of what will be an awesome series of challenges--to inspire my friend with his outlook and attitude about it. What, by comparison, do I have to complain about?

To coin a phrase my mom used, I sat here for a a few minutes "looking like one fool and feeling like another." Three lives intersected at the point of a five-line email reminded me that while there are millions of people, everywhere, victimized by real threats--disease, hunger, homelessness, and other tangible losses--I've somehow convinced myself that my perceived problems are a big deal. Just ridiculous. I know better.

To being with, I am, to my knowledge, reasonably healthy. I can pay my bills, have a place to live. . .food on the table. For years now I've not known what it's like to be without anything I need. My limbs are present and accounted for, I've no inability to speak, do or think. I have seen and done things that I once only dreamed of, traveled places only imagined and achieved more in my life than anyone--including myself--expected. I don't have a lot of loving relationships in my life but the ones I have mean everything to me, and I'm more receptive than I've ever been to letting others into my life and me becoming part of theirs. And yet, despite all this, I still have moments when I'm unhappy, when uncertainty is so much a part of my day that I just. . .can't. . .get past it.

This morning, prompted by the lessons I was being blessed with, I had to ask myself: "What's wrong with you?"

It's obvious that I am the problem. I'm surrounded by better people who are are dealing with situations and circumstances I can't imagine, yet so much more happy with their lives than am I. That's not to say that I don't have a good foundation in that regard myself, I do. But when the doubt creeps in, it shakes that foundation in ways that I'm entirely unprepared to deal with, and that results in a funk that sometimes takes a day or two to dissipate. I can't, for the life of me, figure out why I continue to have these moments when I already believe in my journey, trust in God and accept responsibility for the choices I make. Why, I wonder, can't I live without feeling victimized by worry, uncertainty and doubt?

The answer, perhaps, lies in something I came across in a book that I'm reading, 100 Ways to Motivate Yourself, by Steve Chandler. It begins with this quote: "When you face the sun," wrote Helen Keller, "the shadow always falls behind you."

Now, when I read the sentence, I thought I understood what it meant. I didn't. It had much more meaning than I initially thought, particularly in light of all the thoughts and ideas that I began this day considering. The line, I realize now, is about optimism.

Chandler explained the meaning so well, let me just share with you what he wrote: "When I was younger I remember hearing other kids tell a joke about Helen Keller. 'Have you heard about the Helen Keller doll?' they would ask. 'You wind it up and it bumps into things.'

"I've often thought about that joke, and why such a joke about someone who was deaf and blind was funny. I think the answer lies in our nervousness about other people overcoming huge misfortunes. (Perhaps we laugh nervously because we haven't overcome our own small ones." It was as if he was talking directly to me. So I continued reading.

"In our own day and age, we are quick to consider ourselves victims. We are all victims of some sort of emotional, social, gender or racial abuse. We enjoy taking what difficulties we have had in life and blowing them up into huge injustices.

"Helen Keller didn't complain about being from a dysfunctional family, or of being a woman, or of not being given enough money from the government to compensate her for her handicaps. She had challenges most of us can't even imagine, but she refused to become fascinated by them and make her handicaps her life. She didn't want to focus on the shadows when there was so much sun."

Powerful statement about the power our perspective plays in living the life we want, isn't it? Could it be any clearer, I wondered aloud as I read the passage again? Could my colleague's email about another colleague come at a better moment? Can I--once and for all--accept that God is constantly at work on and for each of us, providing us with the lessons and knowledge we need to get out of our own way, so that we can continue on the path he's set out for us? There's only one obvious answer, of course, unless we enjoy playing the victim.

I firmly believe that life as we know it is a series of choices that turn out well, or not. Choices about what happens in our lives, regardless of who or what is responsible, that we deal with thoughtfully by using whatever resources and means we have available. My colleague chooses to deal with his diagnosis by not giving up, by believing that his disease, while not part of his plan, is but another challenge to overcome. He's not, from what I understand, prepping his deathbed, nor should he be.

Last week I had even more proof that our choices define us when I learned about Jonathan Metz, whose arm became stuck in a boiler he was repairing in his home. Alone, and with the arm badly injured and his body losing tremendous amounts of blood, he made a decision: He'd amputate his arm to save his life.

That decision, alone, is heroic in my book. But the reason he made the decision is even more so. Asked what convinced him he could do it, Metz said he didn't want his parents--who were coming to visit him--or fiance to discover his body. He then chose to set aside the physical and psychological pain of self-amputation because he was motivated by something more powerful than pain and loss: his love for his family.

Although he wasn't able to complete the amputation because the pain, ultimately, was simply too intense, help was on the way. When a friend came by the house and grew concerned when Metz didn't answer, he called police to the home. They found Metz in the basement and called firefighters, who disassembled the boiler and freed him. But the story doesn't end there. Turns out that doctors said although Metz didn't succeed at completing the amputation himself, the effort he put in saved his life. If he hadn't severed the arm to the extent he did, they said, infection would have traveled throughout his body faster and he would have died. So, in effect, Metz saved his life and kept his loved ones from finding his body because he made a choice. And it was the right one.

Within a month, he'll be fit with a prosthetic arm. But despite what he's been through, he's no victim. He plans to get married, eventually go back to work, back to playing softball, and back to his hobby of building furniture. There will be no more procrastinating in his life, he said.

“In the short term, it’s going to be difficult. But in the long term, if I needed a kick in the pants to get me to tackle things, take on my dreams or work toward my other aspirations, this was it.”

Millions of similar stories of courage, faith and selflessness are not just about what they teach the people who live the stories, but what they can teach us all. A VH1 Behind the Music feature on Jennifer Hudson that aired last night taught me a lot, for instance. After the credits rolled, I was awestruck by how this young, vivacious woman, whose entire life has been built on all things positive and possible, endured the most horrific of tragedies at a time when it appeared that all her dreams were coming true. To lose a mother, brother and nephew in an absolutely senseless crime of violence would have destroyed a lot of us. But Jennifer chose to mourn, remember and love. . .then go forward with her life as it is. She'll always know the sorrow of the loss, but she'll always, I believe, choose to see and appreciate the possibilities she has to emerge from the trauma of it. We may think we couldn't do what she's done, but I know for sure that none of us truly know what we're capable of until we have to actually face our fears.

All of this inspired teaching filled me this morning, and when I prayed, I was so thankful for the knowledge God had given me that my words poured forth and the room was alive with the energy of a spirit renewed, once more, by God's Grace. And as I got on my knees, I apologized for what I'd forgotten, sought forgiveness for doubting all that God has already revealed to me, and gave thanks for the potential he has given me and the love he has shown me all my days. You see, that's what the uncertainty and fear I've been living with are manifestations of: doubting God's plan and purpose for my life.

But I have no reason to doubt. I am, as my colleague kindly reminded me this morning, a positive person. I BELIEVE. I have FAITH. I TRUST in the Lord. I am strong and resilient because that trust sustains me in all things, every moment of every day. Yet, when I victimize myself by giving in to even a momentary lapse in that trust, I have chosen to turn my back on the sun and let the shadows of uncertainty and fear fall before me, define my life and alter my experience. It's a choice I've been making too many times lately that is, without a doubt, among the worst decisions I've ever made.

But today, the sun is shining and I've decided to face it again so that the shadows fall in their proper place--behind me. And just as Helen Keller knew, I know that life is what I make it. There's no room for excuses. No need for doubt. No real reason to fear. But there is the sun. So much sun. In it's warm, bright light, I have found the way to finally escape the darkness in which I've lived and appreciate that there's so much to live for, so many reasons to love, so many great things to look forward to, and--praise God--an abundance of things to be thankful for.

It's Too Late To Apologize (NOT)

2010-06-23T05:29:00.031-04:00

One Republic's haunting song, "Apologize" confirms what many of us already know: After putting up with so much, sometimes we can't accept an apology. Sometimes, as the song reminds us, "It's too late to apologize. . .it's too late."

General Stanley A. McChrystal's recent apology for remarks he made about Obama Administration officials and the war in Afghanistan make the case. The general's apology for those remarks, which appear in an article in the current issue of Rolling Stone, reinforces my belief that there's a heap of mea culpa being served up these days, but without a bit of authenticity behind the public requests for forgiveness.

I mean, he was interviewed for a magazine. He knew he'd be quoted. So why would he say he's sorry for something he knows he said, obviously believes, and had the chutzpah to say publicly? There's only one credible reason: That's what we've come to expect, and accept, as normal behavior.

This is only the most recent example.

Last week, Rep. Joe Barton doubled-up on the apologies by apologizing for apologizing. First, he apologized to BP Oil officials for what he saw as a government shakedown after the company pledged $20 Billion to fund claims filed by the thousands of people affected by the ongoing oil spill BP created. Then, realizing that no one would--publicly, at least--have his back, Barton apologized to the Obama Administration and American people by saying, "If anything I've said this morning has been misconstrued in opposite effect, I want to apologize for that misconstruction."

Sure, Joe! We don't think for a minute that your initial opinion had anything to do with your connection to Big Oil. But the truth is, there's a reason you're known as "Mr. Industry" in the Halls of Congress. I happen to think the only thing you're sorry for is that your plan for making a provocative comment didn't quite go as you'd planned.

Politicians aren't the only ones apologizing these days.

BP CEO Tony Hayward, in that same meeting where Barton initially apologized, appeared and summarily apologized and took no responsibility for the spill that will, inevitably, be recorded as among the worst unnatural disasters America has known. But he did say he was sorry. The next thing we knew he was off on his private yacht trying to escape his sorrow. I guess he finally found a way to "just get my life back." Perhaps he's sorry it took so long.

Here in the DC Metro area,it's been one year since nine people were killed in a horrific crash involving the Metro Transit Agency's Red Line. A year ago, amidst the grief and suffering, agency officials, local politicians and almost everyone you can imagine apologized for the great loss and vowed to do better, so as to prevent such a tragedy from happening again. But once the cameras were shut off and people returned to normalcy after a while, those apologizes and promises have been forgotten.

Those are just a few examples. But this tendency to apologize without conviction exists everywhere. We know it in our own lives; everyone knows someone who is great with apologies, yet incapable of meaning what they say. A lot of us have been in work environments where we are promised everything we've worked for only to receive nothing. But, alas, the folks we work for are very sorry that "you feel that way" when you're explaining why you're frustrated and disappointed.

What would dating relationships and marriages be without apologies? I mean, where else will we ever harvest better apologies than from these rich reserves of emotional instability? Just a few of the classics: "I never meant to hurt you. I'm sorry." "It was just sex, it didn't mean anything." "I'm not really emotionally available right now, and I'm sorry if I've mislead you." Or, perhaps my favorite, "I'm sorry I can't be what you need right now."

Apologies, innately, are suspect. I know, I know, that's a cynical way of looking at it. But let me clarify what I mean. A lot of times, we really don't know the people who apologize to us that well, and we've no means by which to judge what's really motivating their "apologies". Granted, we may think we know them, but if we're really being honest with ourselves, we don't. That's part of the trouble we get into by granting trust or just giving the benefit of the doubt to anyone too quickly. And yeah, we're all guilty of it, especially when it comes to people we want to see as we see them, instead of as they really are.

Love, admiration, respect and loyalty makes that possible, and problematic. That's because when your clear vision is clouded by emotion, you're setting yourself up for a disappointing, but eye-opening discovery in a lot of cases. I've been there. And as quickly as I've put those folks on that proverbial pedestal they've jumped down from it like their feet were resting upon red-hot lava rock.

After enough of such disappointments, I realized that I couldn't blame them--I had to take responsibility for my expectations of them. And that's why I'm now of the mind that I'm over apologies that emerge from the lips of people I know nothing about. Unless I have history with someone, and I mean really know them, why should I even consider accepting an apology just because it's offered? Heck, even when you've known people for a while, you still have to be as rational as you are emotional about the nature of the relationship. That's just common sense.

Actually, I have a lot more respect for people who do what they do and say what they say, even when it's not popular, because at least then I know who I'm dealing with. But folks who clamor to apologize the moment after they've said what's on their mind or done something perceived in general as wrong? I don't have the time nor energy to figure out if I can believe them or not, and since time is the only thing I can't get back, I'm not wasting a moment on faux apologies.

My mama (and mamas the world over, no doubt) have often said, "Don't listen to what people say, watch what they do." For me, it's actions that really do speak louder than words. So if you're really sorry, really feeling apologetic for whatever it is you've said or done, my experience is that your actions will prove it. And that's an important distinction, because I don't want to give the impression that we shouldn't be willing to accept real apologies or embrace someone who is really sorry. We absolutely should. But I think we need to cut ourselves some slack by refusing to accept an apology just because it's offered; we deserve proof of the person's regret, and should have plenty of it before offering forgiveness.

Meanwhile, I hope all of us take a good, long look at what we've allowed apologies to become in America. And I hope we all increase our expectations, standards and understanding of what constitutes real regret and sorrow when it comes to people who seek our forgiveness. No good can come of a situation when there are no consequences for wrong actions, I think we can all agree on that. Apologizing and forgiving are choices, and if the choices are fueled by the appropriate thought and emotion, a balance is created. If not, we're all just fooling ourselves.

Still, I really believe we need to hold on to the act of apologizing to remind us of--and help us value--our humanity. Dr. Maya Angelou always says "When you know better, you do better." That's the truth. And it means that we all make mistakes along the way. When we do, I continue want us to know that we've an opportunity to be forgiven and that, when offered, our apologies will be accepted.

The problem is, apologies are so commonplace and artificial today I fear that the humble act of offering an honest apology is in jeopardy. The way I see it, the only way we can prevent the end of apologies as real acts of contrition, is to stop offering forgiveness to everyone who offers up an apology faster than a cat can lick its ass. Unless we do so, we'll all become hardened against the idea of any apology being real, despite the person who is making it. We'll consider an apology something people just say instead of something they offer with true remorse. If we lose the gentle act of the apology, we risk losing the very ability to allow ourselves to grow from our mistakes, change through forgiveness, and live lives without artifice.

In short, while it's too late to apologize if you're one of those people who don't mean it, I'm never going to put a time limit on how long I give anyone to apologize who really does. And I hope--and pray--I will have earned the right to be afforded that same opportunity by anyone to whom I offer an apology. I mean that.

Remembrance and Meaningful Living

2010-05-31T07:54:00.035-04:00

I've never known peace when it comes to war.

But, on the other hand, I am in awe of the men and women who fight for us. I am humbled by the ones who die for us. And I remember them all, every day. I think of their families. I consider all of the potential and promise that is lost to the world every time I come across a newspaper or magazine and see their images gazing back from the page. I can't look at the photos too long; it's simply too overwhelming.

I don't know these men and women personally. I just know that their lives mattered. I know that because they died so that I have the right to sit here and write this blog, state my piece and stand up for what I believe in and fight against what I don't. They have given their lives so that I can live mine and you, yours. I'm certain of this. I am equally certain that I owe them all a huge debt, despite it being one I'm not sure I can ever repay. How can you repay anyone for the ultimate sacrifice, after all? It's almost akin to repaying God for life itself. You just can't get your brain around it.

So instead, I'm putting my spirit around it, today.

Memorial Day is notable for its recognition of members of our armed forces who have died in service to us--the American people. Living in the DC area I'm "thisclose" to Arlington National Cemetery, the Vietnam War Memorial, WWII Memorial and a host of monuments to the fallen. Each memorial feels like a sacred place because it is. And when walking the grounds or touching the stone from which a memorial has sprung, I know that these are places where everyone's spirit is connected, regardless of how they feel about war. They're places where our common humanity, appreciation and sense of respect bond us as a people. Like many who visit these grounds, I'm forever grateful for these men and women have done for me, and for this nation.

Inspired in these sacred places, I have come to fully realize the invaluable lesson Memorial Day teaches. And it's a big one. Whether we are remembering members of the armed forces who gave their lives and assured our freedom, or loved ones whose lives inspired our own, we remember that each life--no matter who whom it belongs--has meaning and purpose.

That's a lesson too many of us tend to forget. We consider living something we just do; we don't consider it necessary to think about it too much. But unless you're content floating aimlessly through life, never interested in what you're doing with it or how it connects you the universe, then I'm fairly sure you've had a time or two, or three when you wondered: Do I matter? That puts you in good company. Because if you're living purposefully, following a journey that is filled with meaning, you're always in pursuit of an answer to that question.

I'm not sure if any of us will ever know whether we mattered, as that determination is left up to God and others after we're gone. But what we can know is that we are trying to matter, trying to having meaning in our lives, by how we live them. Honoring our war dead with this day, devoted to the memory of how they lived, is proof, on both counts. In life they made a choice to fight for what they believed in; in remembrance, we acknowledge that their choices mattered, even as we mourn their loss. None of them would have likely anticipated what their deaths would mean in terms of the Big Picture, but I'd like to think all of them would have appreciated the meaning their lives--defined by courage, bravery and the choice to serve--will have on us all, known and unknown to them in life, for years to come.

Along with the men and women of our military lost to us, I'm remembering a lot of other people today. Remembering them often hurts, yet it also soothes, makes me laugh, makes me cry. Remembering allows me to appreciate the blessing each was in my life and to, in my time remaining here, live a life inspired by their lessons and zest for living. Remembering them reminds me that I can do the things they wanted to do; complete items left unfinished on individual bucket lists; or avoid things they regretted not doing when they had the opportunity to do so. I saw a movie once where a fallen soldier, alive again in the memory of a main character who was feeling sorry for himself, reminded him: "Hey, I'm the one who is dead. What's your excuse?"

It's a light-hearted way of looking at a truth, but it's still the truth. Like so many others I've spent a lot of time working on myself, understanding myself and accepting myself. Necessary work, but it takes a long time. So much so, in fact, that I've only recently realized that I wasted a good portion of my years absent from the life I have while focusing on the one I want. But in the last month, I've come to terms with all those issues and moved forward, eagerly peeling away layer after layer of emotional drag that I'd willingly dressed myself in.

I've been reading Steve Chandler's "100 Ways To Motivate Yourself: Change Your Life Forever," because I now seek out positive messages, energy and people at every turn. I'm determined to take in less and less negative energy because there's just so much to be thankful and positive about. It's a lot of work, always focusing on the positive, so a little help with discovering ways to remain motivated is always in order. That's why I'm reading the book, and one of the first tips it offers even I found a bit somber, but soon realized was one of the most positive motivators I could imagine: "Get On Your Deathbed."

Yeah, I know. Kinda depressing, right? Well, not really. Read the following passage from the book and you'll understand why:

"A number of years ago when I was working with psychotherapist Devers Branden, she put me through her 'deathbed' exercise.

"I was asked to clearly imagine myself lying on my own deathbed, and to fully realize the feelings connected with dying and saying goodbye. Then she asked me to mentally invite the people in my life who were important to me to visit my bedside, one at a time. As I visualized each friend and relative coming in to visit me, I had to speak to them out loud. I had to say to them what I wanted them to know as I was dying.

"As I spoke to each person, I could feel my voice breaking. Somehow I couldn't help breaking down. My eyes were filled with tears. I experienced such a sense of loss. It was not my own life I was mourning; it was the love I was losing. To be more exact, it was a communication of love that had never been there.

"During this difficult exercise, I really got to see how much I'd left out of my life. How many wonderful feelings I had about my children, for example, that I'd never explicitly expressed.

"At the end of the exercise, I was an emotional mess. I had rarely cried that hard in my life. But when those emotions cleared, a wonderful thing happened. I was clear. I knew what was really important, and who really mattered to me. I understood for the first time what George Patton meant when he said, 'Death can be more exciting than life.'

"From that day on I vowed not to leave anything to change. I made up my mind never to leave anything unsaid. I wanted to live as if I might die any moment. The entire experience altered the way I've related to people ever since. And the great point of the exercise wasn't lost on me: We don't have to wait until we're actually near death to receive these benefits of being mortal. We can create the experience anytime we want.

"A few years later when my mother lay dying in a hospital in Tucson, I rushed to her side to hold her hand and repeat to her all the love and gratitude I felt for who she had been for me. When she finally died, my grieving was very intense, but very short. In a matter of days I felt that everything great about my mother had entered into me and would live there as a loving spirit forever.

"A year and a half before my father's death, I began to send him letters and poems about his contribution to my life. He lived his last months and died in the grip of chronic illness, so communicating and getting through to him in person wasn't always easy. But I always felt good that he had those letters and poems to read. Once he called me after I'd sent him a Father's Day poem, and he said, 'Hey, I guess I wasn't such a bad father after all.'

"Poet William Blake warned us about keeping our thoughts locked up until we die. 'When thought is closed in caves,' he wrote, 'then love will show its roots in deepest hell.'

"Pretending you aren't going to die is detrimental to your enjoyment of life. It is detrimental in the same way that it would be detrimental for a basketball player to pretend there was no end to the game he was playing. That player would reduce his intensity, adopt a lazy playing style, and, of course, end up not having any fun at all. Without an end, there is no game. Without being conscious of death, you can't be fully aware of the gift of life.'

"Yet many of us (including myself) keep pretending that our life's game will have no end. We keep planning to do great things some day when we feel like it. We assign our goals and dreams to that imaginary island in the sea that Denis Waitley calls 'Someday Isle.' We find ourselves saying, 'Someday I'll do this,' and 'Someday I'll do that.'

"Confronting our own death doesn't have to wait until we run out of life. In fact, being able to vividly imagine our last hours on our deathbed creates a paradoxical sensation: the feeling of being born all over again--the first step to fearless self-motivation. 'People living deeply,' wrote poet and diarist Anais Nin, 'have no fear of death.'

"And as Bob Dylan has sung, 'He who is not busy being born is busy dying.'"

Great stuff, right? And when you really take a moment--really, a good moment--to think about it, you know it's true. I do, that's for sure. If the dead were to speak to us directly--and I believe they can and do, from time to time--they would tell a whole lot of us that life is wasted on the living. But when you're aware of the inevitable, and live life not in fear of it but in acceptance of it, well, that's how you live a life that matters. That's when you create the memories of you that live on long after you're gone. That's how we all can inspire and encourage others to live purposeful and meaningful lives: by reminding them of how we lived instead of how we died.

Put another way, our remembrance of those we honor with this holiday is more a reminder of what is possible in our own lives because of the lives they lived, and sacrificed, on our behalf. It is, without a doubt, the admission of the great debt we may never be able to repay. But, if you are a Big Picture-thinker, you'll also see it is as continuing encouragement--prodded by memory and gratitude--to keep trying to repay the debt, as long as we live. In doing so, we not only ensure that our lives have meaning, but keep alive the memory of those whose lives taught us what really matters--during war and peace--throughout our history.

Go Ahead, Dream Big!

2010-05-20T07:38:00.046-04:00

These days I spend a lot of my time dreaming of things that can be. Awake or asleep, my mind instinctively gravitates to that place where the impossible is possible and all the things that are not right in the world disappear; where I am in balance with the universe and it, with me. We're all looking for some escape in our lives, aren't we? I mean, I don't know of anyone who isn't going through something or has gone through something that has scarred or scared them for life, so an escape every now in then is usually in order. In this economy I've cut back on personal travel, so I visit a place that costs me nothing but a bit of introspection: the land of my imagination.

I'm a huge fan of imagination, of all things unknown yet potentially possible. I like dreaming about what can be instead of always focusing on what is. It's my nature, actually, if you buy into anything astrological. Now, for those who have already made up their minds that astrology is pure bunk, let me offer this: I don't necessarily buy everything about it, but I believe that God finds all kinds of ways to get through to us in a manner we can both understand and appreciate. For me, that's sometimes my horoscope, which I read from time to time for entertainment. There are times, however, when what I read in those daily summaries provides exactly what I need to make it through a rough patch in my life, or some purposeful encouragement. You may call it coincidence, but I like to think it's God's way of making sure I didn't miss a message he wanted me to pay attention to.

Speaking of astrology, I'm a Pisces. In Latin, Pisces means "Fishes." And the symbol for the astrological sign is two fish, swimming in opposite directions. Personally, I couldn't think of a better symbol, for it is entirely representative of my pursuit of an abundant life in the real world, and my need for a connection to a world more spiritual, more mystical than the one I know.

Pisceans are known as astrology's dreamers, people who seek salvation within themselves while striving for total self-sufficiency and self-reliance. Here's something else said of Pisces people: At our truest, we are crystal clear in our intent, unselfish, devoted, and demanding little, yet willingly sacrificing ourselves for others. Living this way sounds better than it is. What it actually means is that we can lose ourselves in other people to the extent that we de-value our own lives and sense of purpose. And when that happens, it sucks. For all my hard-ass personality characteristics, I'm a virtual puppy when I love or even strongly like someone, which means I have to be careful or I can easily be taken advantage of. Trust me, it's happened.

Yet, for all that a Pisces person may endure, be challenged by or be taught to protect ourselves from, our faith is strong. We have hope. We dream. And no matter what, we look at the world with a sense of possibility, which is why our philosophy of spirit can simply be summed up as: I believe.

Simply living my life as one born under the sign has taught me that, generally, what's been written about the sign's characteristics is accurate. I am emotional and sensitive--much more so than I generally admit--and I can easily be influenced by good and bad, depending on the circumstances. And, unfortunately, if I'm behind a person or cause I believe in, practicality and realism often escapes me, and I suffer the consequences of idealizing people or situations to the exclusion of fact. That's where the dreaming gets me in trouble, every time. As a result, like other Pisceans I know, I retreat from pain and suffering by building up walls, or becoming secretively self-protective, hard to know, and constantly in search of my authentic self. Go back through this blog from its beginning to now, and you'll see that journey to address these issues played out on the pages.

Part of what I've learned about myself is that I have this innate ability to connect with the spiritual and emotional within others, as I do within myself. Sometimes, that means my read of circumstances or people is more emotional than rational; more instinctive than intellectual; more philosophical than practical. What I know is that this "gift," as I consider it, is either a blessing or a curse depending on how I apply it. Fortunately, I've been able to, thanks to enough years and enough experiences under my belt, hone my abilities and use them appropriately, which has resulted in far less fallout now than in my youth.

That brings me back to the amount of time I and other Pisceans spend in our dream world. That world is very important to us. We spend a lot of time there, because, when the hard reality of living attacks our sensibilities, we have a place to which we can withdraw, retreat and recover, until we're prepared to cope and fight another day.

To some, that may seem cowardly. But in practice, it makes perfect sense. In a battle, there are moments when you're on the battlefield and know that if you reveal yourself you're gonna get hit. That's truth. So retreating until conditions change and you have a chance to complete your mission effectively and safely is a strategic option that just works. So retreat, folks do. They never plan to stay where they are forever, never to return to the battlefield again. Instead, they get their bearings, sometimes re-orient their position and plan a different way to attack and thereby win the battle. And when they're ready, they reemerge, better prepared, a bit more certain and ready to do what they need to do.

That's what the dream world is for me and others. A place to get right with ourselves, and figure out how to deal with what's out "there" that may be hard to accept, live with, or overcome. In a world of only possibilities, we use our imaginations to re inspire our sensibilities, reassure ourselves that we can do whatever we need to do and redirect our energies in the here-and-now. It's not a place we stay forever; it's simply a place we can forever dream. And really, what's wrong with that?

Without dreams what are any of us? From the moment we're born our parents have dreams of what we'll be. They teach us to believe in fantasy--Tooth Fairies, Easter Bunnies and Santa Claus--because all these things inspire lessons about love, happiness, and goodness. Fables help us to understand the difference between right and wrong and set us up for life to recall fictional characters as our friends and teachers.

As we continue to grow, we come to appreciate the power of imagination through literature that's born of something far more unique than the reality of writers' lives. If you need proof, ask yourself if you've ever found anything in the real world as wonderful as Shakespeare's "A Midsummer's Night's Dream"? Nah, didn't think so. It's the same with music, film, sculpture and painting. Architecture. Science. I know for sure that folks who are looking for a cure for cancer, for instance, are dreamers.

Our dreams help us get over lost love, lost lives, lost opportunities. We can imagine ourselves in the ways we are not and the ways we want to be. And in doing so, we can achieve what others define as impossible for us. I believe the interior world of our dreams provides all of us--all who have not convinced themselves doing so is impractical, that is--a reconnection with an innocence that speaks to an inherent knowledge that everything really is possible.

All the signs we need are within clear sight: The man who recently won a large lottery jackpot after using his last two bucks to buy the ticket. The survival of the 10-year-old boy who was the sole survivor of the Libyan jet crash. The creation of a world so real in James Cameron's Avatar that we could imagine ourselves living there. Example after example of every day of people overcoming the odds, the practical realities, that would limit them, and the lives they'd lead. All these things are things we dream about, imagine and hope for. They're not practical, not what typically happens, but they are, obviously, possible.

That's why I believe this weakness I have, dreaming and spending a great deal of time doing it, has brought me forward as a man who despises limitations being imposed on anyone. Everyone has the right to dream even as they live outside of that dream, because everyone walking upon this planet is not their circumstances. They are not the poverty they're living in right now. They are not the oppression they face because of gender, race, ethnicity or any other number of justifications the world allows as practical. No one is less than anyone or greater than another when it comes to our dreams, and no one will be the same person tomorrow as they are today when they step away from reality for a while and simply imagine life as it can can be.

Oprah Winfrey, who I've been quoting a lot here lately (because she just GETS IT), has this to say about the dreams we dream and the dreams we can have: "God can dream a bigger dream for you than you can ever dream for yourself." Can you imagine? If we allow ourselves to dream of unlimited possibilities, and God can certainly do even better than that, what reason do we have to remain so connected to the "real world" and its focus on limitations? Seriously. I see no reason whatsoever to deny ourselves all the hope, possibility, love and joy we can bring to ourselves. Do you?

I dream each day, fearlessly. Openly. I dream great things. Ridiculous things. Life-changing things. But I dream. I allow myself to do it because without dreams, our waking existence would never manifest anything greater than the status-quo. No, the world should never be so real that it allows no room for dreams. Whatever your dreams are, from the wildest to the most basic and humble, embrace the power they give you, the joy they bring, and the assurance they provide that while you're existing the best way you can in the real world, you're never more alive than when you're living your life, empowered by your dreams.

And since you're going to dream anyway, go ahead, dream big!

Oprah's Weekend Reminded Me: C'mon, Get Happy!

2010-05-10T16:17:00.052-04:00

When I decided that I'd attend the Live Your Best Life Weekend celebrating the 10th Anniversary of O Magazine, I was certain it was something I'd be glad I'd done. I'm a subscriber, and while the vast majority of the magazine's content isn't geared toward me, the articles and other content that do connect with me really connect. It's a great magazine because it actually does influence the way I try to live, learn and love. That's the truth. Still, as one of the few men who attended the event, I admit expecting to be very pleased to have been at the party, but uncertain I'd walk away from the experience with anything I wasn't already getting from the magazine.

Man, was I wrong.

I just returned from the weekend and I've returned a changed man. Seriously. Sure, I'll be living my best life going forward, but I'm also giving up the life I've lived so far. Doing so, I learned, is the only way to be the person--and have the life--I've always secretly wanted but never allowed myself to have.

That admission may strike some who know me or read my words here as surprising, as I've always believed that I was a free man living the fullest life I could. I've shared what I've done and how I've done it in these posts, in conversations with people, and by standing up for what I believe in when no one else feels it's appropriate or necessary. But, in truth, I've been fooling myself a bit. Not intentionally. Intentional or not, however, I realized, while in NY attending weekend activities around the anniversary celebration, that I was chained to the past and enslaved in ways that provided an answer to all my most frustrating questions of late: "Why don't I feel as happy on the inside as I appear on the outside? Why am I incapable of moving on from a job where I'm under appreciated and undervalued? Why am I so able to give sound, inspired advice to others about relationships when I have shut myself off from all but the relationships I've had most of my life?" And finally, "Why do I deny that the life I want--one that is big, messy, sometimes out of control and filled with a sincere appreciation that we all need one another--is the life I've been retreating from for most most of my years?

Big questions. Questions to which I never had answers. But that's only because I never dwelled on the questions in the first place. I've lived this life on two levels: one based on an artificial sense that I had it figured out, and a second that shut me off, emotionally and otherwise, from the possibilities of trusting, loving and needing others to complete my own circle of life.

Now, there are certainly a lot of reasons for this. As a child I saw too much, too soon, about life. The way people can be toward one another. The hurt they can inflict. The doubt and fear they can nurture. And growing up over the years I never forgot what I'd learned. And in a real, but very quiet way I know now that I decided I would protect myself from all of it. And with rare exception, I stopped letting anyone in. I've been distrustful of folks' intentions, and I used the gift of intellect that God equipped me with to justify it all. I was entirely enslaved by my past, but convinced that I was the freest person I knew. As year after year passed, I've always known the truth, but I've never once admitted it. I convinced myself that I was doing fine, and that's all there was to that.

I've been moderately successful in the material measure of things. I've lived a life bigger than anyone, myself included, ever imagined, given the start I had in life. I've been careful to design a way of living that is entirely based on my control of how much of myself I invested in every relationship I found myself in. Control and my intense focus upon it, has been my constant companion, even as I've realized my life--or lack thereof--was controlled to such an extent that it's been at a standstill for at least the last 18 years.

In many ways, this is still my 29th year, the year I lost the one person I never had to worry about having my back--my mom. Although I certainly have people I love and trust in my life today, I'm mostly separate from them, and I live each day finding myself less and less comforted in control I have over my life, and more concerned than ever that I've squandered far too many opportunities to live an honestly abundant existence; a life that is free from doubt, worry and the kind of deep, personal questioning about my place and purpose that is a sure sign something is wrong.

While in New York this weekend I was told that I'm not living the life I'm supposed to have. And when I heard that, it puzzled me at first, then quickly turned to sadness. Sadness because I already knew that, and ignored the voice that had been telling me so for so long that it's barely a whisper now. At my core, I've always wanted the freedom to use my talents in a positive way and be appreciated for them. I've wanted the freedom to enjoy the types of friendships and relationships that are as stable as bedrock and equally supportive. I've wanted to welcome people into my life instead of excluding them from it.

I guess what I'm saying is that really, I just want to be happy. It took this weekend, however, to show me that I haven't been, for a long time, and to help me understand why.

The major lesson I learned is that all the energy I have not put into relationships of any kind I've put into my so-called career. But, alas, that "career" is not what I should have been rallying around. At an event in which Oprah re-told the story of how she became the woman and role model she is, she said something about an important lesson she learned during a difficult time in her career while in Baltimore that reminded me of how I used to be: "When I had grown all I could grow, I knew it was time to go."

I certainly recognized myself in that statement. And it really is how I used to plan my career. But when I became comfortable with the paycheck, the ebb and flow of what becomes accepted normalcy, and the idea that my invested time in a job warrants ignoring all the signs that I'd long ago outgrown the job, I became my own captor. And there's nothing that cuts deeper than having to admit, whatever it is, that you did the damage yourself. But I did and I have. And it's up to me to change it.

That's where another comment Oprah made encouraged me to sit up, take notice and get a little misty when I realized I'd been doing something, by my inaction, that I thought I'd never do, and that's letting other people control my future. Here's what Oprah said she learned when she had to give up three years of vacation in order to have the time necessary to film her role as Sophia in "The Color Purple": "I knew what I had to do, but I thought, 'I never again want be in the position where someone could tell me what to do or stifle my dreams. I wanted to own myself.'"

Me, too! I realized. And I used to, before I started giving up more of what I believed in because it was easier than challenging the status-quo.

I'd been living this lie, you see. Seriously. All the proof I needed was my own behavior over the past several years. Granted, I've always been outspoken, but I've been somewhat of a terror, I realize. The reason is clear: I've been angry. And I hold anger better than anyone I know. My ability to mask my true feelings serve me well in this regard, because no one ever knows just how angry I am. I got so good at it, apparently, even I didn't know it. I've been angry a long time now. Angry about unkept promises about the job I signed on for and the job I have. Angry that I taught people that they could cheat me, diminish my contributions and blame me for the choices they made. Angry that I accepted this treatment by convincing myself that I was being spiritually accepting about it when I know that being spiritual is in no way the same as being stupid. Angry that, at minimum, I had grown all I could grow six years ago and should have moved on.

I've always believed and told people that it's the work that matters. I still believe that, because it does. But as far as priorities go I've mistakenly placed work and career in the #1 spot for all the wrong reasons. My job has been the thing I've used to justify not having the time or opportunity to pursue what does matter: caring, loving relationships with other people. Not just the romantic variety--all kinds. Hell, I've even justified why I couldn't get the dog I've honestly wanted for years by blaming it on my job. I talked myself out of adopting a kid (since I'm not in a relationship in which one would otherwise be produced or jointly adopted) when I think, even with my issues, I would be the father to a kid that my mother--who had to be both mother and father--was to me. My job was a crutch on which I supported my hopes for happiness, but not at all the support system of family and friends I should have been relying on and further building all this time. I made a major miscalculation here, and I see that now. I can't undo that. All I can do is to look forward and commit to no longer living this way.

In my strength--and I actually am quite resilient--I've an exceptional ability to cut through the bull and get to the heart of the matter. That's something I'm proud to say makes me someone family and friends can count on to get through the tough times they encounter. But on the other hand, this strength does, on occasion, make me kinda cocky. I let my ego blur my vision and sometimes blind me as to what's really been going on.

As I said here earlier, I thought I had a lot more about life figured out than I actually do. Once more, Oprah provided me food for thought that fed me exceptionally well. My heart, my head and my spirit have been so open these past few days that it's like the universe is downloading everything into my being that I'd closed out before. So when Oprah provided the audience with her definition of "ego", I knew I was being given a life lesson like no other I'd had, that I was supposed to be in that auditorium on that night at that time so that God could tell me something he'd been whispering in my ear about my life for longer than I care to admit. Oprah considers EGO an acronym that stands for: Edging. God. Out.

That's the answer, I thought! In my push for control and my grasp of everything and nothing, I've been doing just that. I never meant to, for sure, but the result is the same. That's why the path I've been on has taken so many weird twists and turns. I haven't been following God's path because I simply haven't been paying attention. I got it. Understood it. Accepted it. And was thankful for that truth.

As faithful as I am, as unwavering as I am in my certainty that God has a path and a purpose for us all, I am guilty of allowing my EGO to get in the way of it. I've been an absolute fool. Is it any wonder then, that that happiness I desire and the life I'm leading that's so bereft of it are at war for control of my spirit? Of course not. So no matter the lengths I go to to always be well-presented, confident and inspiring on the outside, I can no longer deny the tumult and disappointment I'm almost constantly experiencing on the inside.

Clearly, it's certainly no coincidence.

That's all on me. I did this. And it's all on me to fix it. But I can't do the bootstraps thing and just pull myself up. I can't pretend that I've got the answers when I haven't even asked all the questions yet. I have to get out of my own way. And I have to have help. That's something that came out of this weekend, too: We all need help. None of us can do this life alone, isolated, convinced we're in control even as our lives--and opportunities for real and lasting happiness--crumble around us.

This is what I'm certain of: I am more than my limitations. But limited, I am. In order to live up to my true potential as a human being I've got to do more than look inward; I've got to look outward, too. And I need to ask for help. Ask God. Ask family. Ask friends. Ask and ask again without fear.

I've got to free myself by accepting that the risk of pain can be the price you must sometimes pay to love and be loved. Jesus taught that, and yet reminded us through his sacrifice that there is no greater thing than love, which makes it all the more worth pursuing. It's wonderful, of course, that I love myself, but it's time I spread it around and opened myself to the possibilities of giving and receiving a bit more of it from others, too.

This weekend, I learned I have to accept that if I want change in my life I must first change myself, how I think, what I do and anything and everything that closes me off from the innumerable opportunities of the universe. The chains I've worn so long were forged by my actions and inactions; they are heavy, burdensome and worn, but I have the key to release myself and always have. I just had to be the one to decide to do it. And I have.

I became free, more free than I ever remember since childhood, over the course of this Live Your Best Life Weekend. The freedom was born of the conversations I had; the stories of struggle and victory that were shared; the advice I was open to receiving from people only recently met; the spirit of New Yorkers I encountered on the streets after yet another bomb scare; the obviousness of answers in places I never considered seeking out before; and in the awesome "You Can Do Anything" energy generated by thousands of women and a few men who are connected in a very real belief that each of us can do better when we know better. That, I understand, is what a "best life" is.

This morning, before heading to the airport for the return home, I sat in my hotel room as night turned into day. I though about all this weekend has given me and how much I wanted to pass it on. I considered how much we each can learn when we stay true to our path, and how God, in his ever-knowing wisdom, brought me to NY to teach me these lessons. And I prayed, and found myself releasing welcome tears of acceptance that all that has gone before is history and lesson, and all that comes now is blessed assurance that I have an opportunity to live the life I desire, embrace all the possibilities of using my talents for a greater good, and inspire others to lay their burdens down and pick up just enough hope to take them to the next stop on their individual journeys.

Today, I accepted once more that I am God's perfectly imperfect son, a man who now understands that the power to be happy has always been mine to claim, but inaccessible to me only because I hid it beneath doubt, pushed it aside in fear, and locked it up with worry.

In my replay of recent memory, I hear the beautiful echo of an audience of kindred spirits who last evening sang in unison, led by Oprah herself, this verse from the song "I Surrender All": "I surrender all, I surrender all, all to thee, my blessed Savior, I surrender all."

When the singing came to an end was the exact moment that I did. I surrendered. And I became free.

Freedom will lead me to happiness. And whenever I think of being happy, I have this weird autoplay in my head that loads "Happy" by Leona Lewis. It's a song near to my heart because it was used in the movie "Precious" and powerfully made the connection between the life Precious lived, and the life she aspired to. The lyrics also speak eloquently to the kind of happiness I, and perhaps everyone who has been through something, can connect to:

"Someone once told me that you have to choose
What you win or lose
You can’t have everything
Don’t cha take chances
Might feel the pain
Don’t cha love in vain
Cause love won’t set you free
I could stand by the side
And watch this life pass me by
So unhappy
But safe as could be

Chorus:
So what if it hurts me?
So what if I break down?
So what if this world just throws me off the edge
My feet run out of ground
I gotta find my place
I wanna hear myself
Don’t care about all the pain in front of me
Cause I’m just trying to be happy, yeah
Just wanna be happy, yeah."

Amazing context for living, isn't it? For me, the words are a reminder that in my search for happiness, I must understand that in whatever days I have remaining, there will be hallmarks, anniversaries. . .celebrations related to this life of mine. There also will be some dark times recorded upon the pages that reflect the the story of my life. But what I am free to tell you today is that whatever comes, I know I have been forever changed. And for that, I am forever grateful to have the chance to be forever happy. Whatever the chance, it's mine, and I'm taking it. It's worth everything.

Perhaps months or years from now, when I'm where I hope to be in my life, I will revisit when I realized my happiness was still a possibility and discover that it was May 8, 2010, at the Live Your Best Life Weekend. And what I'll know for sure, to paraphrase a favorite Oprah line, is that this date is the one God gave me my life back.

Until then, I won't look back. I'm only looking ahead. And I'm not going to squander the gift of a second chance.