Author Archives: William Rutten

Happy Father’s Day To Me!

DSC_0061“Having a child is surely the most beautifully irrational act that two people in love can commit.” –Bill Cosby, Fatherhood

Hello friend,

Imagine this life: every time you get dressed, you have two others to dress. For every time that you wash your hands now, you have to wash two more times. For every time that you go to the bathroom and wipe yourself, you have to wipe two others. For every time you wake up in the middle of the night, you are woken up twice as often by others. Every craving that you have and satisfy, you must do the same for two others. Every seatbelt. Every meal. Every teeth-brushing. Every shoe-tying. EVERY ONE. EVERY DAY. Just multiply everything you do now by three and you will get the picture.

Is it clear? No? Okay, well add to this the idea that you never get to watch what you want on television, never get to eat at a restaurant, never get to sleep in (ever!!!), never use the bathroom alone, never keep your clothes clean (or your house, car, etc.), never get to go on dates, must give up some favorite hobbies, must give up feeling rested and alert, and just generally go along like you are barely hanging on. Oh yeah, and the two others that you are feeding, washing, and wiping are crying a lot in the process, not nearly as eager to get on with your day as you are. 

NOW is the visual clear to you? Good. This is the life of a parent of two young kids. My life, to be specific. Sound appealing? No? I know, I know, to any childless person reading this, you are probably thinking, “I wouldn’t do that for a billion dollars! Why would I give up my life for THAT? I don’t get it; why do people do that? It sounds awful. Like he lost his identity. No thanks!” When you look at the surface of it, I have to admit that I agree with you. It doesn’t sound like any fun at all. It is a lot of work. It’s taxing. It’s stressful. It is sometimes infuriating. It is all the time exhausting. So, what gives?

Imagine a different life. For every time someone cracks you up laughing, multiply that feeling by ten. For every time someone else’s little successes in life fill your soul with pride and gratitude, multiply that by one hundred. For every time the power of your hug can make everything better, multiply that feeling by a thousand. For every time you are an integral part of something downright miraculous, multiply that feeling by a hundred thousand. For every time someone’s smile melts your heart, multiply that feeling by a million. For every time someone drops everything when they see you, screams your name, and runs to you with open arms to give you hugs and kisses like you are the greatest thing ever, multiply that feeling by a billion. And then, after you finish with all of that math, take the greatest feeling you ever had in your life—when tears came to your eyes and your heart seemed like it would burst open because it felt so much love—and know that you will feel all that and more every single time your child says, “I love you, Daddy.” This is my life, too.

This is exactly why you cannot sell parenting to someone who is not a parent. On the surface, it just doesn’t make sense. Bill Cosby is right: it is irrational. But then you get past the surface and into that beautiful mess called the Heart. To have that one heart-bursting “I love you” from your own child is to understand how completely silly and futile it is use rational arguments to promote parenthood.   There aren’t words or numbers to explain the greatest of feelings. Many have tried and come up short. Now I count myself among them.

I never wanted kids. I didn’t. I went through my twenties in a state of blissful childlessness. I thought about the concept often–I had nieces that I absolutely adored, and I much preferred the company of kids to adults—but never felt any compulsion to have my own. I was so happy without them, and that felt like enough. It was enough.

And then one day, my mind changed. It wasn’t as though it didn’t feel like enough anymore; I can’t explain it, really. I just felt ready to give fatherhood a go. It seemed right. Fate intervened, however, perhaps to test my resolve after so many years of resisting the idea. My heart felt so ready, and yet suddenly the odds became stacked against my wife and I. In the ensuing years, we went on a rollercoaster of emotions, as doctors and social workers starred in the drama of our life. Instead of taking the denials as signs that I was truly not meant to be a father, I took them as signs that exactly the right child was not ready for me just yet.

And then one day, she was. My daughter, India, has the kindest, most loving spirit. She is absolutely brilliant, and her eyes have the serenity and beauty of two setting suns. She has held my heart so carefully since the night she was born. She reminds me every day that I am her best friend, and of course, melts me daily with her “I love you, Daddy.” Needless to say, she was worth waiting for.

After battling through so much time in doctors’ offices before India’s birth, her brother’s relatively drama-free arrival was something of a miracle. Isaiah has been enjoying the ride the entire way. He has the most funny, fun-loving spirit, and his eyes sparkle with an intoxicating blend of pure Joy and a splash of mischief. He makes me laugh more than anyone I have ever met, and then he gives the most sincere, passionate hugs and kisses. He is a one-of-a-kind charmer, my Best Man.

I cannot fathom a love greater than the one I feel for him and his sister, nor a gratitude greater than the one I feel for the gift of being their Daddy. It is, by a million miles, the greatest role I have ever played. And at the end of every single day—no matter how many fights I have broken up, messes cleaned, tears wiped, and bodily fluids worn—I find myself thinking, “That was awesome! Let’s do that again tomorrow.”

That is exactly why I cannot make a rational argument for fatherhood. I can’t explain it into attractiveness. I can only tell you that I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I absolutely loved my life before kids. I was wildly happy and grateful; more so, it seemed to me, than anyone I knew. And yet, from the very moment of India’s birth, you couldn’t get me to switch roles with the old me for anything. Not a billion dollars. Not fame. Not achievement. Nothing. Like I said, logic and mathematics simply cannot explain it. No matter how much you put on one side of the scale, it is easily outweighed by that feeling in my heart when I walk in the door and hear the feet racing around the corner as they scream, “DADDY’S HOOOOOOOOME!!!!!!” Any moment after that far outweighs the other side, too—any goofy smile from Isaiah or story from India or race up the stairs that ends with us wrestling on the floor and giving tickles and raspberries until no one can breathe from laughing so hard. Those are all plenty.

But even if they weren’t, there is always that moment when I am putting India to bed, when I am about to get up and go, and she turns to me in the dark, pulls me in for a hug and kiss, and says, “I love you, Daddy. You’re the best Daddy ever!” I walk out of that room every night so totally certain that I am the luckiest guy that ever walked the Earth. I guess you could say that is enough. It is for me.

What about you? What makes your life so happy? Open up your journal and your heart, and then go for it. This is for everybody; you don’t have to be a parent to have magical, day-making moments that add up to become life-making years. If you are not a parent (or if you are but can remember your pre-child life), how fulfilling do you (did you) think parenting would be? How much fun/work/frustration/fulfillment did you think parenting would be based on how your parents were? In your current status as either a parent or childless, do you regret the path you have chosen, or wish you had done something sooner or later? If you have kids, do they know how much you love them and how proud you are of them? What is your relationship with your father? How do you feel about him? Have you told him? Maybe today is the day. Leave me a reply and let me know: Who are you thankful for today, and what are you going to do about it?

Happy Father’s Day,

William

A Moment of Beautiful Clarity

DSC_0055“And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.” –Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

Hello friend,

Have you ever had that one little moment when it hits you how absolutely wonderful your life is? It comes like a tidal wave of gratitude in one visual image. Time stops, your heart swells, and in that magic moment you are completely intertwined with the Universe—and you know it.

It happened to me the other day. I was out for a walk around the block with my wife and kids on a placid early evening. Well, to be precise, the adults were walking, and the kids were roaring around on their Big Wheels (perhaps the greatest instrument of fun ever invented!). We turned the corner into the home stretch, and the kids charged ahead, pedaling feverishly in all their youthful glory. My wife was several steps ahead of me, striding briskly in a futile attempt to catch up to them as they made it toward home.

There it was: my life, right in front of my eyes. It was my street, my comfortable neighborhood, and my kind of evening in my favorite season. Here were these three people who I love more than anything, full of health and vitality, going happily before me.

“And for a moment, everything was perfect,” says the narrator (a la “Tangled”).

That wave of gratitude and wonder swept over me. I knew I was living the dream. “This is what it’s all about,” I said aloud. The tingle I felt in my soul as the words came out told me that I had just spoken the Truth, which felt amazing in its own right. So, with the most serene, ear-to-ear grin on my face, I nodded my approval and said softly, “Yeah, this is what it’s all about………….Thanks, God.” 

It was a transcendent moment, yet also small and plainly intimate. For that moment, the curtain was pulled back, and I got an up-close-and-personal look at the sheer, unadulterated Beauty that is my world. Stripped away were the worries and stresses about finances or schedules or someone misbehaving or my next career move. It was simply a moment in its purest form.

I used to think theoretically about being in the moment, especially as it pertained to people having problems and stresses. I pictured them sitting down on a park bench, and I said, “In this moment, unless you have hemorrhoids hurting your rear end, you don’t have a problem in the world. All of that stuff that you are holding onto about yesterday and all of those worries you have been feeling about your future—they are irrelevant in this moment. In this moment, with the sun on your face and fresh air in your lungs, everything is just fine. Do you choose to be present, to see it that way?”

In that moment, when I seemed to feel so intimate with the Mystery, it was as though that was not me but God herself nodding affirmatively and whispering, “Yeah, this is what it’s all about.” I wish I could bottle that moment, that feeling. It was nothing short of magical. Encapsulated Bliss. Even remembering it now leaves me in a state of deep Peace and Gratitude. This is how I can say with such complete conviction: Life is beautiful.

How about you? Have you had that magical moment? Open your journal and write about it. Describe the scene. What kind of a day was it? Who was with you, if anyone? Did you feel, like me, that moment of calm, almost as though time was standing still and the outside noises were muted while the Divine whispered in your ear? Were you able to pause in that moment and recognize it for what it was? For me, the best way to describe the feeling would be an overwhelming sense of Gratitude. Is that the word that best matches your moment? Have you had this special feeling more than once? If so, is there a common thread running through your moments? Mine is family. I can tell you that you are very lucky if you are overwhelmed like this frequently. You must be doing something right. Leave me a reply and let me know what your secret is. I want to know: Has the beauty of your life ever crystallized in a single moment?

Be present to the miracle that is Now,

William

Do You Dare to Bare?

IMG_1184“I think of myself as an intelligent, sensitive human being with the soul of a clown which always forces me to blow it at the most important moments.”  –Jim Morrison

Hello friend,

My 3-year-old told me today, “Well, you don’t have to keep telling me that you love me all the time, Daddy, because I already know that.”  He knows everything. I responded, “Yeah, but that is how I really feel right now, so I am telling you.”  I bet that I tell my kids “I love you” 50 times a day.  Each!  I smother them with hugs and kisses.  My emotions are right on my sleeve.  Thankfully, they are positive ones.  I am trying to keep it real with them.  I want them to know just how much I love them.  But more than that, I am also trying to be an example to them about emotional honesty. I want them to feel confident in telling their Truth, to not shy away from their emotions.

We teach what we most need to learn. I wish I was a good example about owning my feelings and sharing them honestly. I want to be. But I have to admit that it is something I have always struggled with. Like the Jim Morrison quote above, my sensitivity has often gotten so squashed in trying to put on a tough, polished exterior that I have really blown it in some important moments. In trying to minimize and put a shine on my real emotions, I have come off blunt, even callous. I have gotten in my own way.

“But I was so much older then. I’m younger than that now.” So says Bob Dylan, and I hope I am becoming that way, too. Kids are such good examples of honesty. Their emotions are like mercury, changing drastically with the conditions from moment to moment. When they go from crying one minute to laughing the next, most of us jaded parents take that to mean they were faking the crying part. Though I don’t discount that entirely, I think it is actually more that they are so completely in the moment that they can move beyond the source of their tears instantaneously. Unlike us adults, they don’t work so hard to hold grudges. They get it out—honestly and completely—and move on. It is really these transparent kids that are the wise ones in this world. When we become “mature” and “control our emotions”, the unfortunate side effect is often that we hide from our Truth and squash down feelings that must be felt lest they destroy us (through addictions and chronic, mind-numbing activities like television). I have been that old. I want to be young again!

Yes, I have been one of the many bottled-up people in this world. Why do we do it, though? Why do we chicken out? Why do we lack the courage to own our feelings and express them—to tell our Truth—especially to those we love the most? Just this afternoon I was thinking about my great-uncle Lloyd, whom I have always thought of as the most kind-hearted man I have ever known. I was thinking of how grateful I am that he has been in my life and how I hope that I can be that kind of man for the rest of my life (he is about to be 89). It hit me: I have to write him a letter and tell him so! Yeah for me, right? But as I sit here writing to you about this idea of emotional honesty, I can’t help but feel a little cowardly that the only way I dare tell this hero of mine how much he means to me is by writing him a letter. I cannot tell him to his face.

I know how I am (or how I have been?). I would freeze up if I tried to tell him. I would take any sign of awkwardness from him as an excuse to clam up and not finish my thought, not tell my Truth. “I don’t want to make him uncomfortable” or “He doesn’t like to show emotion, so I won’t”. These are just crutches for me, reasons to avoid owning who I really am. The other one—I use this one to avoid honest conversations with my Dad—is “Oh, he knows how I feel.” But that assumes a lot. What if he doesn’t know? What if he thinks my silence means what I used to think his silence meant? What if he goes to the grave thinking that?

I think it is this reason—the brevity of life and the suddenness of its end—that has helped me improve over the years at sharing my emotions honestly. I just don’t want people to leave my life without knowing how much they mean to me. And it isn’t just the shortness of other people’s lives that concern me anymore; it is also my own duration. I am keenly aware that I could go any time, so I am trying to seize every moment, “to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life,” as Thoreau says. That includes building rich, authentic relationships, which requires me to own my feelings. It also includes not denying myself the simple pleasure of telling my Truth.

Telling my Truth, I have found, is wonderfully liberating. I now see those chances to tell it as little “dares”—as in, “I dare you!”—to jump at rather than shy away from, as I always used to. The dare excites me now. Each time I seize it, I become more confident, more comfortable in my own skin, and thus more willing to share my emotions—my Truth—the next time. It is a healthy snow-balling effect.

I also think that it becomes easier to own my feelings and live out loud as I care less and less about what others think of me (see Bob Dylan above; I am becoming younger). The less I look to the outside for validation and instead seek within, the more willing I am to share my emotions and my Truth. Who I am, it turns out, is enough, and I care not for the company of those who think otherwise. So, even as I write this I get more resolved to share my emotions even more freely. It may mean writing it down for awhile—sending that letter to Uncle Lloyd will still feel good—but I will do better with the face-to-face someday, too. Eventually, I will probably become that old guy who—tactfully, I hope–holds nothing back and makes people uncomfortable with his honesty. I admire that guy.

How about you? How bottled-up are you? Open up your journal and start telling your Truth. Tell yourself first. How do you feel about you? Be honest with yourself, and don’t judge your feelings as they come. Just let them flow along with the words, unfiltered. This is when writing is at its best: when you let yourself go. Have you told the people closest to you how much they mean to you? If not, what is stopping you? Try to make the answer something about you, not about them. The part you can control is yours. Pick a person and write out how you feel about them. Do you dare say the words to them face-to-face? If not, how about writing a letter? You already wrote out your feelings; why not just send it? I dare you! Go down the list of your loved ones. Who deserves to know your Truth? Who haven’t you told? The answer to those two questions—and the gap between them—is your challenge laid out before you. Do you accept it? Leave me a reply and let me know: Do you dare to bare?

You are enough just as you are,

William

Is Awe Still In You?

DSC_0601“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.”  –W.B. Yeats 

Hello friend,

A couple of weeks ago, I brought my kids downtown to see the skyscrapers. As suburbanites, I often point out “Big City” in the distance as we are driving, but never in their lives had I taken them there to see the tall buildings up close. We parked the car just out of downtown so that we could walk through a sculpture garden and park on the way to the buildings. To get there, though, we had to cross a walking bridge high above a busy freeway. We got to the top of the steps to cross, and my 3 ½ year-old son’s mouth dropped wide open. He stared in wide wonder as, right below him, cars and trucks went speeding by in several lanes side-by-side. He was absolutely mesmerized by the entire scene. Awestruck.

The look on his face was priceless, like a brand new world had just opened up and was flooding his senses. He was stunned, but giddy at the same time. It was, for me, one of those moments when time slows down and every image gets etched into my heart and mind. I was so glad to get to share in a really cool moment in his life that instantly became a really cool moment in mine, but for very different reasons.   For him, it was that he was being blown away by this amazing world and all of its magnificent offerings—like cars and motorcycles racing right under your feet—and for me it was pure gratitude: for him and for the idea that I could provide this jaw-dropping moment for him. The thought that really grabbed me in that moment–and hasn’t let go of me since–though, was “Oh, to be so lucky! To be completely in awe of so many things in this world that the rest of us walk right by. What I wouldn’t give to have the WONDER of a child. The susceptibility to AWE.” 

If you spend any time around little kids, you quickly learn how amazing our world is. They are excited about almost everything. Even when we don’t even leave my house and yard, I can’t tell you how many times a day my son hollers for me: “DAD!!! You GOTTA SEE THIS! This is TOTALLY COOL!!!” He could be talking about a leaf, or, just as easily, what he has just created in the toilet. But beyond mere excitement, this sense of awe is nearly as common. Children are so good at staying in the moment that so many things feel brand new to them every time, and that sense of novelty is the key ingredient in awe. You can stare in wide wonder at a world that is new to you and full of magic.

Regarding the Yeats quote I mentioned at the top, I think kids do a better job than us adults at keeping their senses sharp, i.e., being present and open to the magic that fills the world around us. Where and when do we go wrong, though? When do our senses dull? When do we stop being so awestruck by this place? Is it simply the repetitive nature of our lives, the fact that we see and do the same things over and over? Is it in how terribly busy we get as we grow, our minds trying to keep ourselves organized rather than stopping to smell the roses, or even noticing their presence?

I am trying to think of all the times I have been in awe as an adult. Sadly, it is a challenge to come up with examples. I was completely awestruck by my daughter when she was born. Simply her presence in the world, that this little living thing was breathing and crying and melting my heart when only moments before she was living inside my wife’s abdomen. That was truly amazing to me. I was in awe of her every development, in the first couple of years especially. I remember vividly, in the period of 18-24 months, being completely dumbfounded almost daily by the new intellectual feats. Human development is an astonishing thing. In the old days, when I spent all of my time on personal/spiritual enrichment and didn’t have a care in the world, I found many moments of awe in the Universe, most frequently when I was in nature. Put me by the ocean or a glacial lake in the mountains of Montana, and I ooze awe. What a wonderland we have been gifted with in which to live! Other moments of awe, for me, have happened at concerts, when the music and the artist stir my soul into a frenzy. The last one that comes to me is the head-over-heels falling-in-love phase of a relationship, being in awe not just of the other person but of the utter magnificence of existence now that you have found the key to the whole thing.

Babies, Nature, Art, and Love. These are the things that have dropped my jaw in adulthood. Four things? My son’s list is longer than that before breakfast! So how can I be more like him: amazed and excited by nearly every thing he comes upon? I think a big part of it is presence: simply staying in the moment and appreciating what is. I can also do better at taking an attitude of gratitude, being more mindful of the intricacy and interconnectedness of all Life in the Universe. When I consider the most minute details of how this place runs and all the conditions that had to fall exactly into place so that I could sit here and write this to you, I cannot help but be in awe. That awe makes me feel so much more alive. Einstein had it right when he said, “He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed.”

So, how about you? What makes you “pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe”? Get out your journal and start writing. When was the last time you felt that wonder, that awe? How much do you envy children for their wide-eyed approach to the world? What is your biggest trigger, the thing that makes you most likely to feel amazement? What can you do to put yourself in position to feel it more often? Do you think it declines steadily with age, or does it rise and fall with your attitude and life circumstances? Be honest: do you sometimes think you might never feel it again? Leave me a reply and let me know: Is awe still in you?

Let your inner kid go out to play today,

William

Have You Gone Dark?

DSC_1061“You can’t stay in your corner of the Forest waiting for others to come to you. You have to go to them sometimes.” –A.A. Milne, from Winnie-The-Pooh

Hello friend,

Yesterday, I had a total “Blast-From-The-Past” moment. I got a Friend Request on Facebook from an old, dear friend whom I haven’t heard from in over 15 years. It felt like it arrived from another planet! Memories flooded my mind and my heart, and I wanted to see her—or at least give her a call–right then and there. I have thought of her so often over the years and silently wished her all the best. Silently. So what did I do? Nothing. I told myself I would send her a message right then, but something came up—as it always seems to—and the moment passed. Somehow hitting “Accept Request” was not nearly as satisfying as a phone call or an embrace. Bummer. Welcome to my world!

That old friend’s face is sticking with me, though. Eating at me, really. I recently read an article about the most frequent regrets of people on their deathbeds. The one that really struck a chord in my soul was “I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.” Actually, it wasn’t just that it struck a chord; no, it was more that it stuck a knife in my heart. I have been really feeling that lately, and the article was a bold reminder.

It made me think of a group of guys that I went to high school with, guys that I liked a lot but weren’t necessarily in my innermost circle of friends. I often hear about these guys still finding a way to get together a couple of times per year despite living all over the country, and still communicating often. I think that is so cool. I am envious of not just their friendship with each other, but their persistence in keeping it close and frequent. They have done the right work, because good friendships are worth it. Those guys will be tight until the day they die.

So, what about me? Have I kept a group like that? And beyond the group, have I even kept individual friends that close? I just now made a list on a full sheet of paper of all the friends who have been nearest and dearest to me on all of the stops on my journey. I started with my friends from childhood and high school; that is where the biggest group came from, and really the people I still consider my dearest friends. Next came the other stops where I stayed long enough or exposed enough of myself to build relationships: college, Minneapolis, New York City, Los Angeles, college again, graduate school, and then finally my pre-children life here. There are over 30 names on the list, and they are all people I would love to happen upon in a quiet space, so that I could give them a big hug and enjoy a wonderful conversation. Friends only, no acquaintances.

It is certainly bittersweet to look at this list. It is sweet, of course, because I truly love these people, and it does the heart good to think of those I love. But the bitter part is aimed at my own role in the next column of the list. That is where I noted how much communication I have with each person. Sadly, next to almost every single name on my list, it says “None”. None! My favorite people in all the world—outside of my family, of course—don’t hear from me at all. That is both disappointing and embarrassing. I cannot stop looking at this list! It is haunting, really. These tremendous people and the relationships that I had with them are now like ghosts to me.

How did I get to this point of having created these ghosts? Of course it is easy to claim lack of time. That is our world, isn’t it? But, even if that can explain it, it doesn’t satisfy me. There is the issue of the increasing awkwardness that goes with increasing time between correspondences. I wonder if it would be weird to call someone out of the blue—would I be inconveniencing them?—so I hesitate. That hesitation continues to the point that I wonder if I even matter to them the way they still matter to me. So I go dark, sitting silently and wishing them well.

Then I think about how to transition the relationship from a catch-up conversation (e.g. “What do you do, in general?” or “How have you passed the years?”) to a regular conversation (e.g. “What did you do today?” or “What do you think about Issue X”). The whole process paralyzes me, gets in my head and keeps me from doing what my heart knows it should do, which is reach out. Make that call. Send that letter or email or Friend Request. But since I haven’t, and because I don’t really seek out new relationships, I have a pretty tiny social circle. Even living in this city the last dozen years, there are only a couple of people I make it a point to see occasionally. This seems to be why, as I age, my family becomes increasingly my best friends (though I do a pretty poor job keeping in touch with them, too, I must admit).

All of this is just to say that I can definitely see how “I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends” made the list of top deathbed regrets. I am (hopefully) in the middle of my life, and I already regret it. I miss them. And I think I will miss them even more in the years to come if I continue my silence. So, I think I will get on Facebook tonight and send that old friend a message. Maybe we can even trade numbers and have a real conversation. That would do my heart good, maybe even ease some regret. It is something. A baby step. But nevertheless, a step in the right direction. It is time to break my silence. Time to turn the light back on. I am open for business!

How about you? How well do you stay in contact? Open up your journal and spill some ink. Maybe the best way to start is by making the same type of list that I made, with all of your most beloved friends from the various stops on your life journey and how much communication you currently have with them. How does it look? Are you pretty good at making the consistent effort, or is your list as bleak as mine? Are your best best friends from childhood, like mine, or are they from a different phase of your life? Is your communication frequent enough that you have “regular conversations”, or are you stuck in “catch-up conversations” each time you talk? How many do you get together with in person? Do you have a group that still gets together for things like a “girls weekend”? How much regret do you feel from losing touch with people, and how does that compare to how much you think you will feel on your deathbed? Is it enough to get you to reach out? This listing exercise was quite therapeutic for me, and I hope it works the same for you. Leave me a reply and let me know: Have you gone dark? 

Listen to the quiet wisdom of your heart,

William

Clinging to Life on Earth

IMG_1029Hello friend,

I used to feel really prepared to die. I did. I didn’t have a death wish, and I wasn’t necessarily eager to go, but I definitely felt ready. Lately, though, I have swung completely the other way. I obsess over the possibility of my death. And it is not only mine; it goes for my wife and children as well. I think about it way too much. Worry. Fear. Dread. They are all part of the package. But why? How did I go from welcoming death to obsessively dreading it? How did I get this way?

When I was a kid and young adult, I didn’t think much about death. Like most people at that age, I felt pretty bulletproof. It simply didn’t occur to me that I might die at any moment. In my mid-20s, I went through a spiritual overhaul. I spent a lot of time contemplating God and my place in the Universe, and I became much more clear about what I believed. I felt intimately connected—united–with everything. It was a beautiful way to live, really. During those years of blissful union with the Divine, in particularly rapturous moments, I found myself saying out loud, “You can take me now, God, if you want. I am ready any time.” I guess I was just really solid in my belief that, no matter what form we are in, it is All God and will never be otherwise. The end is not in doubt.

With that thought as my foundation, it really just didn’t seem to matter to me whether I was “alive” or “dead”. The difference was only a superficial one. I loved the life I was living here on Earth, but I figured the next part was at least as good, so why not? I could go either way. When I heard of people dying, I thought two things: 1) Good for them; and 2)Bless their loved ones. I went along that way for a lot of years, loving life but welcoming death. The Grim Reaper was certainly not my enemy, nothing to fear.

That all changed suddenly on a hot Friday night in August of 2008. It was not a car accident, terminal diagnosis, or some other brush with death. No, it was, in fact, a brush with LIFE. My daughter was born. My whole world changed in a flash. The sun rose and set in her eyes. I hung on every breath, and the slightest smile from her could carry me through the day. But it was not this immense joy that she—and later her brother, too—brought to my world that completely turned my relationship with death. Rather, it was the responsibility. Yes, suddenly I was completely in charge of raising and nurturing this magical little creature to adulthood, and it needed to be the most loving, joyous upbringing ever. In order for me to insure that she had her greatest friend and protector, I needed to stay alive.

In that instant, death became my sworn enemy and greatest threat. It is true that my spiritual foundation did not suddenly fall to shambles. I still believed that All is God and that the end is not in doubt. I still believed it was going to be beautiful on the other side. And I knew that everyone on Earth figures out a way to carry on no matter what the circumstances, so they would make it without me. But I couldn’t have that. The idea of leaving them behind is a torturous one for me. Everyone always says that the worst thing imaginable is having your child die. I can see that so clearly at this point, which is why I have come to obsess in my dread of my children’s deaths. I have been reading and re-reading John Green’s novel, The Fault In Our Stars, lately. Its leading characters are kids with cancer, and I am just sick the entire time, not just in imagining my own children suffering from something so awful, but also in thinking about their parents.   What an awful, helpless feeling!

But I think that not so far down the ladder from that pain must be the idea of dying yourself and leaving your kids without you to raise them. Talk about helpless! A couple of years ago, my cousin Heide died of cancer. She was the mother of two amazing little girls. I have thought about her and her family a million times, both during her battle and, of course, after it ended. I can’t stop imagining how helpless she must have felt, knowing that she was not going to be there to nurture and watch her girls grow up and become women. I would be absolutely shredded by it. Just thinking about it knocks me into a state of shock. Unselfishly, I want to be of the utmost service to my kids every step of the way. Selfishly, it would absolutely eviscerate me to miss out on their daily magic. I want to be the shepherd, but I also want to be the witness.

It is also for these reasons that the thought of my wife’s potential death haunts me as well. As I said, I need my children’s upbringing to be the absolute best, most loving experience, and she is a crucial part of that. The kids need their mother, and she needs to be their mother. We have a vested interest in living this earthly life for a while.

Does this mean I will stop freaking out about death and return to my “Take me any time, God!” mode when they reach adulthood and no longer need the shepherd? I imagine the dread will diminish some, but not entirely, because the witness will still want to witness. I have no doubt that thoughts of missing out on their lives (and potentially the lives of their children) will keep me wanting to stick around to a ripe old age. Still, I think I won’t be as clingy to this life as I am now. My seeming desperation to live right now will more likely become a mere preference for life over death. Hopefully I can always maintain my focus on the present, secure in the knowledge that the best way to make the most of my time here is to stay in the moment rather than obsessing over the past or future, a future which certainly will include all of our deaths.

How about you? How desperate are you to keep living? Grab your journal and pen, and dig in. How do you react when you hear of someone dying? On a scale of one to ten, how peacefully do you think you would accept the news that you have only a year to live? How much does your family situation play into that rating? How much do your spiritual/religious beliefs affect your feelings regarding your acceptance of death? Has your acceptance of your mortality changed over the years? Do you think you would accept a terminal diagnosis better for yourself or for a family member? Obviously this topic is a deep and challenging one, but I believe it is very revealing and thus highly worth your while. So write! Then, leave me a reply. I want to know: Are you clinging to life on Earth?

Live like you mean it,

William

My Life of TV Shows

DSC_0607Hello friend,

Last night I finally watched the season finale of “Parenthood” on DVR. Afterwards, I said to myself, “Alright, now I don’t have to watch television for at least four more months, even longer if this gets canceled.” You see, other than a basketball game or tennis match here and there, “Parenthood” is the only show I have watched the last couple of years. The television has almost completely lost its place in my life. That seems crazy given that my memories are dominated by this magical device.

The realization that I have only one show left—one that is likely to be canceled soon, no less–shocked me so much that my mind went into a tailspin back through my lifetime, an existence chock-full of television series. What I find looking back is that, with the exception of a few outstanding comedies and dramas that transcend time, the TV shows that were important to me seem to fit in with who I was and what I was doing during those periods.

When I was a little kid, the television was always on in my house. ALWAYS! It is funny how our memories work: even though I would tell you I had an active childhood, I would also tell you that I watched a ton of TV. I watched everything. The shows that I loved the most, though, seemed to fall into two categories: 1) shows about kids in their families learning how to grow up, and 2) shows about different versions of action heroes.

Kids and their learning of “growing-up” lessons was an obvious draw, but especially kids in bigger family situations. I have four siblings, so family dynamics were right up my alley. “The Brady Bunch” was an early classic for me in that regard. I held down the Bobby Brady spot as the youngest boy in the brood. I was also Nicholas in “Eight is Enough”, Arnold in “Diff’rent Strokes”, and Tootie in “The Facts of Life”. I couldn’t necessarily claim one of the characters in “The Cosby Show”, but that is certainly an all-time favorite for many reasons. I loved that show! Throw “Family Ties” in this group, and the genre is full for my youth.

The action hero aspect of my favorite childhood shows—of course, stemming from my fantasies of being one—was probably initiated by Saturday morning cartoons, my favorite of which was “Super Friends”. I loved them all, but I was definitely an Aquaman guy. These cartoons soon transitioned to live action, and my first superhero show that totally captivated me was “The Incredible Hulk”. The other two big ones in this category for me, though without actual superheroes, were “The A-Team” (but come on, Mr. T was basically a superhero, right?) and, of course, “The Dukes of Hazzard”. The best moments of the week were those few times per episode when the General Lee jumped off the surprise dirt pile over the water–time standing totally still until the car landed safely on the other side–and away “them Duke boys” would go. That is little boy magic!

Other than the comedy classic “Cheers”, there aren’t many shows that jump out of my memory from my teen years. The next phase of my life that seemed to have TV series attached to it was my 20s, when I was figuring out life as a young adult, with stuff like independence, jobs, and relationships. My shows of choice fit the time. This period started with the Fox shows “Beverly Hills 90210” and “Melrose Place”. It didn’t hurt that these characters lived in Los Angeles, where I was either dreaming about living, actually living, or had just moved away from, depending on which point in the series you are talking about. My first apartment in LA looked just like the “Melrose” building (minus all of the super-attractive neighbors—darn!). The shows I really remember from that time, though, are “Friends” and “Party of Five”. I might have liked “Friends” so much because it made me think I could make it as an actor, as here were these six young actors who burst onto the scene, spawning multiple copy-cat shows with even more unknown actors. I remember being an extra on one called “Buddies” and thinking, “I could do this!” “Friends” was wonderful on its own, but I loved that it gave me hope. “Party of Five”, on the other hand, just totally hit me in the right spot. It was sad, but it was also siblings. Siblings who needed each other while simultaneously needing to figure out this thing called Life without parents. I was not yet in the habit of journaling every day when this show started, but when I look back at my very first journal, many of the entries come right after I had watched episodes of “Party of Five” and my soul was completely stirred up. It really resonated with me. The later portion of this “single & figuring myself out” period in my life was marked by more interesting versions of others doing just that: “Ally McBeal” and “Will & Grace”.

Finally, when I was out of that phase of life, I came full circle back to family again, this time from the perspective of someone in the middle generation. I am a parent, but I am also still a sibling and someone’s child. It is an amazingly tangled and beautiful web, this thing called family. I see that in my own life, and that is what has drawn me, in this age when I have mostly cut TV out of my life, to “Parenthood”. It just gets me feeling the things I want to feel, and I appreciate that.

I mentioned earlier that, amidst all of these periods of my life and the shows that correspond to the periods, there were a few television series that transcended time and would have been appreciated in any era. In the drama category, the one that sticks out for me is the brilliantly written “The West Wing”. Honorable mentions from my youth are “St. Elsewhere” and “Hill Street Blues”, and “ER” from young adulthood. In the comedy realm, I did mention “Cheers” as an honorable mention, but really there are two that stand out for me as all-timers: “Seinfeld” and “The Office”. I could watch either one at any time, but “Seinfeld” is the favorite. It doesn’t necessarily connect to a time in my life like the others I have mentioned, but it is simply great television. It moves me. That is what a good show is supposed to do. That is why these shows come, much like music, to tell the story of my life.

How about you? What shows tell the story of your life? Open up your journal and take a stroll down memory lane. Write about the ones that moved you to laughter and to tears. Do your favorites follow the themes of your life, too? Are you more into comedy or drama? Are there any family shows that remind you of your own family? How have your tastes changed as you have aged? Which shows that you loved as a kid do you think would still seem good if you watched them today (my faith in “90210” and “The Incredible Hulk” is shaky)? How many of the shows that you currently watch will make your list 20 years from now? And finally, as a guy who has a completely empty DVR and whose only show is about to be canceled, do you have any recommendations for me? Leave me a reply and let me know: What are the TV shows of your life?

Be triumphantly you today,

William

Is Your Job Working You?

IMG_1015Hello friend,

Picture yourself on your deathbed. Your mind spins like a broken record, replaying your life over and over in hopes of coming to some peace. Peace with what you have done and left undone. Peace with your accomplishments and your failures, your great loves and great loves lost. But mostly, you are trying to make peace with how you passed your time here on Earth, how you spent your dash. Regret enters the conversation. “I wish I had done that.” “I am so sorry that I did the other thing.” Woulda shoulda coulda. These are tough thoughts, heavy loads to bear as you cross over to the other side. So, here is my question: At the end of the road, are you going to say, “I wish I spent more time at work”?

Naahhh! Me neither. Not many people, I am guessing, would fess up to that regret. It is not that I discount that as a possibility, especially for those who are truly following their Bliss–their calling–and have turned it into a career. I love writing these posts to you. If I was earning a living wage for it, I could definitely see spending a little “too much” time delivering one to you on a daily basis. Mostly, though, I think that, like most of you, wishing I had worked more hours won’t be among my biggest deathbed regrets.

But how about the reverse? Have I spent too many hours at work? Have I missed out on the things that I would tell you are important: my kids, my wife, my family of origin, taking care of my health, pursuing my passions, learning? Has my schedule reflected my priorities?

As with many other areas of my life, I have taken a unique, winding path in my relationship with my work schedule. After spending most of my 20’s trying to work as little as possible so that I could spend my hours on self-improvement, my early 30’s found me living the life of a workaholic. I was on both the teaching and the management sides of tennis, and that meant a grueling schedule of more than 40 hours per week pounding my body on a tennis court and then another 20-30 hours in the office stressing over budgets, staffing, programming and the like. I was burning the candle at both ends, to be sure, only seeing the light of day on the weekends (some weekends). Every night found me completely exhausted.

In my work on The Journal Project, I have been able to revisit those years via my daily journal entries. Let me tell you, those are the most boring, repetitive entries of my entire adult life! They are like a broken record that goes something like this: “I am so tired. My body hurts so badly. This is no way to live. I wouldn’t recommend this to anybody. I am happy and grateful. Life is beautiful.” Yes, thank goodness that my spiritual and psychological foundation—my base of deep happiness and gratitude—had been laid prior to those years, because I never would have made it through without that foundation. It is true that I believed in my cause—I loved being in tennis and was heavily invested in making my club a wonderful place to work and play—and that certainly helped me to sustain my energies while there. But it was all there. I didn’t have much energy left to offer anything outside the building. All of those other things I would have said were high priorities—wife, family, passions, health—were left to pick at the crumbs of energy I had left when I limped in the house under cover of night. Between the stress and the physical beating and the endless hours, my work certainly exacted a heavy toll on me in exchange for a paycheck. In effect, it consumed me. (Here might be a good place to add that my wife is a saint.)  I knew what was happening, too, but I just couldn’t seem to do anything about it.

But then, something magical happened. My daughter was born. The sweetest, most beautiful angel ever in the world was alive and coming to stay in my house, where I could scarcely find time to be. That seemed just plain wrong to me. My priorities suddenly came sharply into focus. But more than that, the need to match my schedule to my priorities became urgent. So I did. I quit the management side of my job and cut my teaching schedule down to four days, with no nights or weekends. The paycheck and status took a huge hit, but finally my schedule was in alignment with my priorities.

Those quality days with my daughter—and eventually my son, too—were worth more to me than any paycheck ever was. If you could ever climb inside my heart on a “Three Amigos Day”—one of our weekdays with just the kids and I—or “Family Fun Day” (all of us together on a weekend), you would understand completely the meaning of the word “priceless”. We have been carrying on like this for 5 ½ years now, with me spending less time at work and more time with the ones I love and having the energy to be fully present when I am with them. So, there I was at the bus stop this morning to give my daughter a hug good-bye before school, and there I was at the end of the day to see her jump off the bus and run smiling toward me for another giant hug—an untradeable moment—and a trip on our bikes to the park. And tomorrow, on that weekday away from my job I have clung to all these years, I get to go along on the kindergarten fieldtrip to the museum and the zoo. These days of my being my kid’s best friend don’t last forever, right? I think I’ll soak them up while they are still here.

As you can see, my relationship with my working hours has been one of extremes. I have known dipping my feet in the water, wading comfortably at waist-deep, and full-fledged drowning in my work. I have known myself to be happy in the midst of all three, but actual satisfaction came only when I was finally able to make my schedule reflect my priorities. Who can say how my path will meander in the coming years as circumstances change, but I hope that when I am in full life-review mode while lying on my deathbed, I will have no regrets when it comes to the time I spent at work.

How about you? How are you doing with your work schedule? Open up your journal and tell yourself about it. Are you spending too much time at your job? Are you missing out on important aspects of your life because of your work schedule? Do you ever wish you worked more? Is your job your true calling or just something you do? When it is all over, are you going to regret the way you spent your time? And most importantly, how closely do you think your schedule reflects your priorities? If it does not, what small step can you take today to change that? Leave me a reply and let me know: Is your job working you?

Live a self-approved life,

William

Are You Destined For Greatness?

DSC_0616“You know,” he said after a while, “it’s kids’ stuff, but I always thought my obituary would be in all the newspapers, that I’d have a story worth telling. I always had this secret suspicion that I was special.” –Augustus Waters, a dying teen in John Green’s The Fault in Our Stars 

Hello friend,

I just this moment finished reading The Fault In Our Stars, the brilliant and heartbreaking novel by John Green. It is filled with beautiful, deeply insightful passages about our existence and our place in the universe. But, for some reason, the passage that I instantly went hunting back for upon finishing was the one I quoted above, with Augustus admitting to Hazel his “secret suspicion” that he was special, that he believed he was destined for greatness. Ever since I read that chapter in the book yesterday, I have not been able to get the idea out of my mind. The reason is as simple as it is awkward to admit to: I have the same secret suspicion about myself.

I do. I always have. Always. And, not surprisingly, I have not mentioned this to anyone in my lifetime. It seems too boastful, too self-aggrandizing, too potentially degrading to everyone else around me. But is it, really? I mean, it is really just admitting to a gut feeling I have always had—an intuition—not something I go around telling myself based on rational observation. I haven’t decided that I am better than anyone else, but rather I have “a secret suspicion,” as Augustus says, that something grand and noteworthy will become of my life, that I will be famous for something positive.   To put it simply, I feel destined for greatness.

When you carry something like that around with you your whole life—in complete silence about it, especially—it seems like you are the only one feeling it. While there is a certain power to it—you think at any moment you are going to stumble upon your big break and life will be forever changed—there is a loneliness, too. The famous people know each other—they rub elbows at the Oscar parties or the NATO Peace Summit or Nobel Prize ceremony—but where do those still awaiting their greatness meet? That is why it struck me so deeply when I read that line from Augustus. “Finally, a kindred spirit!” I thought. But then, “Wait a minute, he is about to die, so his suspicion was wrong. That means mine could be wrong, too. AND he is admitting it because he is dying, so maybe lots of people feel the same way and just don’t ever say it. Maybe everybody feels that way.” Could it be?

This is difficult to wrap my mind around, having gone through life thinking I was the only one with this gut feeling that it was my fate to become a person of great influence (and that I was not supposed to advertise that ahead of time). But now enters this idea that most or all of us have this same intuition, this same tug from the Universe. That would be quite a trick played on us by the Divine (or the Devil?), a trick of psychological delusion to keep the masses pacified: each of us secretly thinking we alone are destined to stand out from the rest of the pack, nobody saying anything to anyone else for fear of seeming boastful or arrogant. It is the ultimate deception.

It is a bit deflating to me, I must admit, after a life of believing fame and influence were right around the corner. But, honestly, I have been lately wondering, “If this is really going to happen, Universe, then WHEN????” I am not getting any younger. Perhaps in the end I will pass on in quiet obscurity like almost everyone else, never making an impact beyond my beautiful-but-tiny sphere, my “secret suspicions” of the Great Fate finally revealing themselves to be mere delusions of grandeur. Of course, given the extreme expectations I have lived with all my life due to these intuitions, it would seem quite a disappointing way to go down. I will probably have a lot to make peace with.

So, are these gut feelings–that I am special and destined to do great things—a blessing or a curse? I suppose the answer to that depends somewhat on the course my journey takes from here. If it turns out that they are right—if I win a Nobel Prize or become President or cure cancer—then they will have served to buoy me in tough times and keep me on my course, always believing in the best possible outcome. In that case, yeah! If, however, I go quietly into the deep, dark night, then what? Then I would probably still argue that they were a blessing—buoying and keeping the course and the like—right up until the end, when the realization of eternal obscurity and unimportance hits home. Of course, then the mighty have a long way to fall and much to make peace with. Still, I would argue that that is a fair trade for a life lived with confidence and great expectations. I think I will press on upon my course toward greatness. The end will come eventually, with or without my certainty about it.

How about you? Do you have a secret suspicion that you are special, that you are destined for greatness? Get out your journal, and write about your expectations. How do you think your life will go? Will you be famous? Will you continue on the same trajectory that you are on now, or are you expecting a rollercoaster? How will you feel at the end of your days? How will you be remembered? Answer it both from your ego’s point-of-view and also straight from your gut. More than any post I have written to you so far, I would deeply appreciate a response from this one. I am truly baffled by this thought at the moment about how many of us have this secret suspicion that we are special, and I need some answers. I want to know: Are you destined for greatness?

Trust your heart,

William

Your Everyday To-Do List

IMG_0930“Good resolutions are like babies crying in church. They should be carried out immediately.” –Charles M. Sheldon

Hello friend,

I have never been one to make New Year’s resolutions. I don’t know what it is about them that repels me. Every time December 31st rolls around, everyone seems to be talking about their resolutions, so I give it a quick thought: “Should I be making resolutions this year?” Invariably, I decide against it.

As I think about it now, I see that it must be my lifelong aversion to limits. I cannot stand to be contained in any way. I need a big bed, loose-fitting clothes, open roads, very few rules, no supervision, and no numerical goals. That last one might seem odd to you, but that is how my mind works. When I talk to people about weight-lifting, they say they need to state exactly how many repetitions they hope to do—e.g. twelve bench presses—to push themselves to that number, otherwise they would do fewer. I am the opposite. If you told me my goal was 12 reps, I would immediately feel constrained by the number, as though it was holding me back from doing more. So it is with resolutions and me. If I give myself a resolution and a year to do it—quit chocolate or join a gym class or lose five pounds or read War and Peace or whatever—I would feel hemmed in by it, wondering what I was going to do when February came around and I had already achieved my goal for the year. Alas, resolutions and I have never quite come to terms.

Still, there I sat on the eve of 2013, wondering how I could be doing better at life. Would a resolution help? I tried to think of the one thing that I could do by the time 2014 rolled around that would make me a better, more fulfilled person. But every attempt at finding that one thing only annoyed me more, made me feel limited by it. In that annoyance, I realized that for me, I didn’t need one thing to do once and be done with it, resolution completed. No, I needed multiple assignments, and I needed to do them every day. That was it! I didn’t need a resolution. I needed HABITS.

What a realization! It brought both relief and inspiration. Immediately I set to work on my list of action items. I had a lot of ideas buzzing through my mind on ways to improve myself, as always, so the trick was finding habits that really spoke to my highest priorities, that would produce wonderful results in many different facets of my life, and that would be a huge challenge to fit into each day of the year. I turned on my computer and typed “2013 Daily To-Do List”, and under that I named seven simple tasks:

  1. Be fully in the moment. This has been a long-time priority of mine: presence. And while I knew I had it while I was with my kids—there are no better examples in all the world of being totally present than children, better than any yogi or healer I know—I had been feeling it slipping in other moments. I noticed myself lost in thought and looking at the sidewalk on my way into work rather than appreciating the sun on my face and the fresh air in my lungs. That was not okay with me. My excuse of being completely exhausted from sleep deprivation since the kids were born was wearing thin, and I knew a change was in order.
  2. The Journal Project. By that point in time, I was a few months into my enormous project, and I knew it would take several years for just the first phase if I kept on the pace I was going. It was time to turn it up a few notches. Daily action was necessary, no matter what.
  3. Meditate. I had meditated in short and infrequent spurts over the years, but each time I did it, I was reminded of its unlimited value. I wanted it on my docket.
  4. Act like my wife’s best friend & biggest fan. This had become a frequent topic in my internal conversations of late. I was thinking of how forgiving and supportive I am toward my buddies, but how I was seemingly giving the one I had pledged my life to the least amount of leeway and applause. That was unacceptable to me.
  5. Improve efficiency/Waste no time. I am extremely ambitious when it comes to the very tiny window of time I have when I am not either at work or playing with my kids. I want to read every book in the world, do The Journal Project, write a blog, teach myself the guitar and piano, get fit, keep up the house and yard, get another degree, write a book, and on and on and on. All after 8:30 P.M.!
  6. Reduce sugar intake. I am, and always have been, addicted to sugar. I had been reading more about nutrition and the detrimental effects of sugar, and I was determined to take steps to get my addiction under control.
  7. Stretch/Yoga. This one, like meditation, is a practice that I had been recommending to anyone and everyone ever since I found yoga when I was around 24. Unfortunately for me, I had become completely out of the habit, another casualty of becoming “busy” and losing sight of my priorities. I wanted it back.

That was my list. The seven things I wanted to keep front-and-center every day of the 2013. I printed two copies and taped one to my bathroom mirror and one to my desk. You may be wondering why “Write in my journal” is not there. The answer is simple.   I only wanted items on the list that were not already firmly entrenched into my day. Thus, “Write in my journal” and “Spend every possible moment absorbed in my kids” had no use on the list; they were coming along anyway. As you can see, some of the items required no extra time commitment, which, I suppose, means they should have been easiest to execute. The others were certainly achievable daily actions. Even from this distance, it looks like a pretty practical list.

So, how did I do? Hmmm. Not as well as I had hoped, but there were some positives. I was more present, which proved to be a good stress-reducer. My work on The Journal Project, which went hand-in-hand with improving efficiency/wasting no time, turned out to be the task I did far better than the rest.   I started writing it in my schedule, which really cemented the commitment. I made tremendous progress, which was extremely satisfying, both in terms of the simple joy of progress and also in the blissful pursuit of my dreams. Everything about it felt good. All the while I was cutting almost all unnecessary activities—television being the biggest—out of my day. Improve efficiency/waste no time became ingrained enough that I probably didn’t’ even need the reminder anymore. The other one I did okay with was being more supportive and forgiving of my wife. Simply having it on the list in front of me made me more mindful of our relationship and being a better friend and fan. I saw her more clearly.

I wish I could say I checked everything off my “2013 Daily To-Do List” every day, but alas, I wasn’t up to the task. I started off right with meditation, creating a dedicated space in my basement for it and allotting a meager twelve minutes per night to start. I loved it, too, but somehow it became quick to go when I got busy, and the almost-habit fizzled to nothing. The stretching/yoga went the same way. I struggled with reducing my sugar intake, too, though I definitely became much more aware of when I was eating it. Needless to say, there were definitely some “fails” on my list.

Nevertheless, when it came time to re-evaluate the list for a 2014 version, I decided to keep it exactly the same. I wanted to keep going with the good things, and I still valued my failed items enough to keep them on my daily task list for another year. Sadly, valuing them has not translated into doing them. I have yet to resume the meditation or yoga. I have actually done a tiny bit better with my sugar habit. Unfortunately, The Journal Project has fallen off my daily schedule, being replaced by its partner, “Journal of You”, which you are reading now. Though I totally love the blog-writing and see its value and place in my greater mission, it pains me that I have not kept up on The Journal Project.

What I am seeing now is that I need a new, revised “2014 Daily To-Do List” that still reflects my ambition but has some grounding in the reality of my schedule. So, starting today, here goes:

      1. Be fully in the moment.
      2. Act like my wife’s best friend & biggest fan.
      3. Reduce sugar intake.
      4. The Journal Project/Journal of You—at least one, not always the same one. 

How about you? Are you ready to create your own “2014 Daily To-Do List”? Open your journal and start jotting ideas. Are your tasks things that you currently do sometimes but not every day? Are they things that are going to take time and require you to schedule them (e.g. my Journal Project), or are they things that require only a psychological or philosophical shift (e.g. being fully present)? Is it time to add something totally new to your life, like learning an instrument or a new language? Try to find a balance of ambition and reality; make the list a challenge but not so hard that you are dooming yourself to failure. Just make sure the list speaks to who you want to be, the version of you that you know is in there ready to come out. Leave me a reply and tell me who that person is. I want to know: what’s on your everyday to-do list?

You will come alive just past your comfort zone,

William