Author Archives: William Rutten

My Mom is Awesome!

DSC_0184“All that I am or ever hope to be, I owe to my angel mother.” –Abraham Lincoln

Hello friend,

Happy Mother’s Day! Last year at this time, I actually got to spend the weekend with my amazing Mom. I admit that I haven’t always given Mother’s Day its just due as a holiday—often lumping it in with “greeting card holidays” like Valentine’s Day, which I mostly ignore—but having that time with my Mom on a day made just for her was pretty darn cool. Maybe I can appreciate it more now that I am a parent, or maybe it just hits home a bit more now that we are both old enough to realize that these earthly lives don’t go on forever. In any case, Mother’s Day is important to me now.

Holidays and birthdays, for me, have kind of taken on the role of “good excuse to let someone know how much I care”. I know that it is pretty lame that I don’t have the guts and/or don’t make the time to do that often enough in my day-to-day interactions, but that is where I am right now. This is why I have come to appreciate these holidays: I need the excuse to share my feelings. These days are helping me out.

So, in honor of Mother’s Day, here are some of the reasons I love my Mom so much:

  • I love my Mom because she birthed me and raised me. That may sound obvious, but really, having now witnessed a couple of births in person, I know that every mother, no matter what they did afterward, deserves a thank you. And to think, that is the easy part! Raising kids is hard!!! My kids are absolutely fabulous and I wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world, but raising them is still the most taxing thing ever, too. So I am so grateful to my Mom for just hanging in there with me through it all. I didn’t know what a trooper she was—and I may not fully know until these guys go through the teenage stuff—but I know enough now to say she has my utmost respect.
  • I love my Mom because she was crazy enough to have five of us. Who does that? Seriously, I have two kids and can hardly see straight. How did she turn out five of us—four, including me, in very rapid succession—and keep it all together? As many times as I have probed her and other parents of big broods to figure it out, I simply cannot wrap my mind around the idea. But my Mom pulled it off. Even though I am stopping at two, I am so glad I had my many siblings all along the way. Amazingly, we actually still like and respect each other. My Mom is a wonder!
  • I love my Mom because I have always been her little boy. I admit it, I have always been a Momma’s boy. I was the fourth kid, and my little sister didn’t come along for seven years after me. I don’t know if that explains it, or if she just somehow knew I had a unique path that required her special support, but she always provided it. Even at this age and with me about twice her size, she has a way of making me feel like her special little boy. I love that.
  • I love my Mom because we have been lifelong roadtrip partners. In my previous post “Roadtrip Down Memory Lane”, I shared with you how my Mom would throw us five kids, a cooler of soda, and an Alabama cassette into our van and trek across the country. Those trips were amazing, but they were just the beginning. She toted—“tolerated” is probably more accurate—my friends and I around to every little town that had a Summer tennis tournament. Even as an adult, she and I have covered this great country on adventures up and down both coasts and seemingly everywhere in between. She even made it through an epic day in which I dragged her to every possible site in Rome, finally limping up the Spanish Steps in the dark of night. We have shared a lot of beautiful miles.
  • I love my Mom because she shows me how to be a good spouse. After all these years, I am pretty sure my Dad realizes that he landed a good one. I learned the most from my Mom in her most trying times as a wife. When I was wondering, “How in the world is she holding up and hanging in?” she was a rock. She never wavered. I am still amazed by that, and I always return to it whenever I have a “Darn, marriage is hard work!” moment.
  • I love my Mom because she is a fabulous grandmother. My kids—and all her other grandkids, really—totally adore my Mom. She gets right down to the level of whoever she is playing with and really digs in. She snuggles with the infants, plays on the floor with my kids, and reads novels aloud to my teenage nieces (yes, at their request!). I am in awe of how connected she is to each of them. She is the grandma version of the kind of grandpa I want to be.
  • I love my Mom because she showed me how to be the adult child at the parents’ end. My Mom’s mother—my sweet Grandma Jeanne—had a long bout with cancer and needed a lot of care. In what had to be the toughest thing for her to witness, she sucked it up and did it all. I am sitting here bawling as I think about having to do that for her one day. I can only hope I do half as well. She then spent so many more happy years with her father, becoming his best friend and constant source of support, even as his mind began to betray him. She was, again, the rock, right to the very end. How lucky my grandparents were to have her.
  • I love my Mom because she has been, through it all, everything I would want in a best friend. In life, you want someone who is going to love you no matter what. You want someone who is proud of you even when you aren’t proud of yourself. You want someone you can have a great time with. You want someone who will tell you their Truth. And you want someone to be your biggest fan. My Mom is all of that to me. I love her without end.

This morning, as has become her habit in recent years on Mother’s Day, she sent an email to me and my siblings. It was titled “Your Mom”, and here is how it went:

Ahh, it’s my favorite day of the year once again! And now that I say that I know it’s not totally true, my favorite days are when I actually get to see you! But today is the day that I feel like I can take some of the credit for the 5 greatest people the world has ever seen and I do mean that! I know that without God taking care of you every day and your Dad’s help I couldn’t say that and I am just so very thankful that I can. I really couldn’t be more proud of each of you than I already am for everything you have accomplished and everything you have become. You truly are the 5 greatest people I know and you are raising 14 of the greatest kids there are anywhere. Mom or Dad, you should be as proud of yourselves as I am of you for doing such a great job and having so much fun with all of them. Nothing makes me more proud of you than to see what great parents you are and the love you have for your children….that really is the most important thing in your life as I know you can see even now. They are and always will be the greatest source of joy to you even in the difficult times so treasure each moment…it doesn’t come again. Thank you all for making my life so special…..you will only know how much I love you as you experience your own love for your children.

All my love, Your very blessed Mom 

Oh yeah, I love my Mom for that letter, too.

How about you? Open up your journal—or better yet, a letter or the phone line or her front door—and write down all the reasons you love your mother. If you are anything like me, it will be a tear-filled entry, but, trust me, well worth your time. I bet your Mom would think so, too! Leave me a reply and let me know: how awesome is your Mom?

You are loved,

William

Who Are You Trying To Impress?

DSC_0728“Be yourself. Everyone else is already taken.” –Oscar Wilde

Hello friend,

Yesterday I was given a stern warning that I needed to “be careful” about what I write in my blog posts. The subtext seemed to be, “People who know you are offended by your opinions and will think less of you if you keep speaking your mind.” It took me a minute to process this warning, but ultimately, my conclusion was: “I don’t really care what people think of me. I will tell my Truth, and that is enough for me. I will be relentlessly me. My peace is in my authenticity.”

In coming to that conclusion, however, I had to really look myself in the mirror and ask myself how consistently my actions support that philosophy. Am I really the maverick, the nonconformist that I fancy myself to be, seeking only self-approval and dismissing the expectations and judgments of those around me? Am I walking the walk?

In Walden, my favorite book, Thoreau says, “If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music he hears, however measured or far away.” When I first read that quote in my mid-20s, it was just what I needed to hear. Like seemingly everyone else I know, I spent my school years trying to do all the right things to become “popular” and “successful” by the only standards I knew: number of friends, grades, trophies, and positions. I dressed like everyone else, got straight-A’s, won tennis tournaments, and was on the Student Council. Since I was a little kid, I always said I would be a doctor, as that seemed to be the most prestigious job. I followed that path for 21 years, living by the standards set by others for what I should do and never once questioning the authority of either the standards or those setting them. My future was set in stone. I was a sheep.

But then something happened. I heard a voice inside me. It was screaming for attention, begging me to look within for the answers rather than simply at what everyone else expected of me. That voice scared me more than anything I can imagine. Following it would mean completely jumping off a cliff in terms of who I thought I was and how people would perceive me from that point forward. I would look like a giant failure to everyone, including those I loved the very most. The only one left in my corner, it seemed, would be me. I was alone on the cliff. And I jumped.

“Leap and the net will appear.”

As terrified as I was to jump off that cliff in a sort of reputation suicide, the new me that showed up as a result was completely liberated of all that baggage that comes with trying to impress people and live up to their expectations. I think it must have worked like this: when I thought I had been written off and abandoned by everyone in the audience—everyone I was trying to please–I realized the only one left in the room was the guy in the mirror. How was I going to please him? There was an amazing freedom in that absence of an audience. My new standard derived from how well I listened to that inner voice, how true I was to myself. Authenticity and happiness became my new barometer for success.  It was not long after that that I came upon the Thoreau quote in Walden. My hair stood straight up. I wasn’t alone after all. I had a supporter, and it didn’t matter one bit that he was 150 years older than me. On I marched!

Over the many years since my cliff dive and liberation, I have come to many forks in the road that involved similar decisions: do what is expected or do what is in my heart? In following my heart and living to my own standards, I have given up other chances to put a “Dr.” in front of my name and taken career demotions because they better suited my priorities. These decisions have become easier over time. I may not be making my parents—or anyone else—proud in terms of fancy titles or big salaries, but I am deeply happy and doing my best to live my Truth, to step to the music that I hear in my soul, “however measured or far away.” 

Writing this blog to you the last few months has been a wonderful outlet for me in that regard. In being so open and honest with you about what I have been through and what makes me tick, my goal has been simply to get you to examine your own life, to know yourself better so that you might live more authentically and, ultimately, more happily. I understand that in putting myself out there in this way, it leaves me open to criticism, such as from the person I mentioned in the opening, who was essentially trying to “shush” me. If I can get you to live more authentically and happily, I will gladly take the criticism any day of the week. I like Aristotle’s view on this: “To avoid criticism say nothing, do nothing, be nothing.” I think I would rather be me. Relentlessly me.

This is not to say that I don’t fall prey to societal expectations in some areas of my life. I have told you before that I have an ongoing battle with vanity, some of which is certainly societal. I try to look good and not stir up trouble at my kids’ teacher conferences, because I don’t want any biases against them in their education. I am sure it shows up in many other areas as well. On a scale of 1 to 10—with 1 being “I march to my own drummer; the approval of others is meaningless to me” and 10 being “I do everything I am supposed to do; I don’t rock the boat; I require society’s approval”—I would say I am currently about a 2 ½.

How about you? Where do you fit on the scale? It is time to open your journal and look yourself in the mirror. Look at your life: your job, your wardrobe, your hobbies, your schedule, your friend group, your car, your conversations, the way you handle conflict, EVERYTHING. Are you telling your Truth? Are you doing and saying what you think everyone else wants you to do and say? Do you have an opinion and share it, or are you the “go along to get along” person? Have you swallowed yourself so many times that you are not even sure who the real you is anymore? On the other side, have you ever gone overboard, given yourself too much license to the point where, in the name of “being honest,” you were really just being offensive? Fill up some pages in your journal—it’s a big topic—then leave me a reply. I want to know: who are you trying to impress?

Be relentlessly you,

William

The Soundtrack of My Life

DSC_0029“Music gives a soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and life to everything.” –Plato

Hello friend,

This morning at my gym class, the instructor’s super-techno dance mix included a mash-up of Joan Jett & The Blackhearts’ classic “I Love Rock ‘n Roll”. After getting over my initial disgust that they had butchered this all-time rock anthem with a computer-generated dance beat, I was instantly swept back in time to July 19, 1982. I was nine years old, and my parents—in a moment of highly questionable judgment—let me, my siblings, and my cousins go unsupervised to a rock concert at the North Dakota State Fair. It was none other than Joan Jett & The Blackhearts, and “I Love Rock ‘n Roll” had just blown up. I was mesmerized by the whole experience, but especially hearing her sing that song live. It was a night etched in my mind forever.

That is how it so often is with the signature moments in our lives: a song is attached. So, when we think back on our history, the telling of our lives emerges from our minds like a movie, complete with a soundtrack. The music playing while we hung out with our friends, stayed up late, kissed the girl, got dumped by the girl, won the game, rebelled, danced, roadtripped, celebrated, contemplated, got married, rocked the baby, and on and on. For most of us, the music tells the story for us. Play the soundtrack, and we could “set adrift on memory bliss.”

My life is no different. When I look through my piles of CDs or through my iPod, it is like my life is flashing in front of my eyes. So, in roughly chronological order, here is the Soundtrack of My Life:

  1. “Another One Bites The Dust”—Queen. This one starts the album, because I remember listening to the 45—yes, a record—of this in my room over and over with my brothers and neighbors. The other Queen anthems—“We Are the Champions” and “We Will Rock You”—absolutely belong on this playlist as well, but I will lump them into this one slot so I can sneak other songs in (IT IS SO HARD TO KEEP THIS ALBUM SHORT!!!)
  2. “Take It On The Run”—REO Speedwagon. This is another vinyl memory. I didn’t own it, but I remember staying up late at my (older) cousins’ cabin when I was a kid listening to this over and over, dancing around on the beds and feeling way older than my 8 years.
  3. “You May Be Right”—Billy Joel. This is my transition to 8-track. I could not get enough of the sound of that shattering glass followed immediately by the revved-up opening bars of this song to start the “Glass Houses” album. Instant adrenaline!
  4. “Greased Lightning”—Danny Zuko (John Travolta) & the T-Birds. I have seen “Grease” a thousand times and know all the songs, but this one sticks out so vividly because I remember my brothers and neighbor boys and I standing on our basement sofas performing this song—with all the dance moves, of course—like we were the T-Birds as we watched it repeatedly. (I wish that my parents had recorded more of our nonsense, because I would die to see this stuff now.) Go greased lightning!
  5. “Roll On”—Alabama. This was the signature roadtrip song for the crosscountry family misadventures (see my post “Roadtrip Down Memory Lane”), since my dear mother only ever brought one cassette for the entire trip. I didn’t know any better. Roll on!
  6. “I Love Rock ‘n Roll”—Joan Jett & The Blackhearts. Enough said.
  7. “Cum On Feel The Noize”—Quiet Riot. I have to include this not just because it is one of those quintessential 1980’s rock anthems that got played at every school dance—and still charges me up to hear it—but because of how it fits with my Joan Jett story. You see, at that first concert for 9-year-old me, the warm-up band for Joan Jett was a totally unknown band named Quiet Riot, and they blew us away with all of the material from the “Metal Health” album that would become popular a year or so later. At nine years old, I reached the peak of my interest in metal—ha!
  8. “Beat It”—Michael Jackson. I am such a child of the early days of MTV, and I could easily produce a 50-song soundtrack of songs that influenced me from those early years of the network (you don’t know how it pains me to leave off this list The J. Geils Band’s “Centerfold”, which threw our whole house into a frenzy every time it got played). Michael Jackson’s brilliance as a performer was perfect for the music video medium, and I was totally captivated. Much like some of the others on this list, “Beat It” is my representative for all of the amazing stuff that Michael put out in those early years, including “Thriller”. When I hear the song now, the dance-off video leaps onto the screen of my mind.
  9. “Mony Mony”—Billy Idol. I can’t even really claim to like this song, but when I think of high school dances, this song is the first thing that comes to my mind. It was like we all had permission to shout the F-word, and what more does a teenager want? So we shouted!
  10. “You’re The Inspiration”—Chicago. Roadtripping with my best friend to tennis tournaments, to Chicago (where we actually saw the band Chicago play), and across the American Rockies. The “Greatest Hits 1982-1989” album logged a lot of miles. Lots of sappy love songs—right up my alley.
  11. “U Can’t Touch This”—MC Hammer. I remember riding in a school bus with a high school girls’ tennis team with this song blaring, and each time it would come to the right parts, we would all shout, “STOP! HAMMER TIME!!!” Pure, unadulterated fun.
  12. “How Am I Supposed To Live Without You”—Michael Bolton. I am probably supposed to be embarrassed that I was a huge Bolton fan in my late high school-early college years. I remember when my mom first got this cassette before we left for a long roadtrip to a tennis tournament. By the time we returned, I was sold. This song made it on many a mix tape.
  13. “Summertime”—DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince. This was the Summer song for 1991, the year I graduated high school. I hear this and think of my buddies. That was our time together, and we soaked it up. After all of these years, I would still lay down in traffic for those guys.
  14. “Walking In Memphis”—Marc Cohn. My favorite. I also found this song in the Summer of ’91, and I include it not so much from one memory at that time but for how deeply it moved me—and moves me to this day. Though he is widely considered a one-hit wonder for this song, Cohn sunk deep into my soul with this entire album, and he has remained foremost in my heart ever since. Like some of the others, this spot on my list really represents a lot of songs, including “True Companion”, which played in my wedding. I have sung Marc’s songs to soothe my crying kids on their tough nights, and to soothe myself in the best and worst times of my life. This song, which is about a spiritual experience for him, has become a spiritual experience for me.
  15. “I Go To Work”—Kool Moe Dee. This was my “pump-up song” to get ready for intramural basketball games in college. I love this whole album, but this song completely brings it. This is good rap. Old school like the old school!
  16. “Jessie”—Joshua Kadison. This song–and all of the others from his “Painted Desert Serenade” album–is so much about singing my lungs out on solo roadtrips across the land. I love Kadison’s storytelling, and despite a short career, he has always been on my short list of favorites. A wonderful memory is seeing him play live at the House of Blues in Los Angeles.
  17. “Round Here”—Counting Crows. Their debut song “Mr. Jones” was so overplayed that I didn’t want to get the “August and Everything After” album, but someone dear to me insisted. This is the first song, and I was completely shaken by it. I bought it in Washington, DC September of 1994, and it played in my Discman the entire Autumn and Winter I spent there and New York City. It has played on every roadtrip since, and never fails to move me. I love this song, this album, this band.
  18. “Mystery”—Indigo Girls. Someone randomly gave me this CD, “Swamp Ophelia”, in L.A.; she didn’t know why she had it and didn’t want it. This is the epitome of “one person’s trash is another person’s treasure.” I had never heard Indigo Girls before that, but they didn’t leave my CD player for months afterward. This song in particular captured my soul from the beginning, and it has become another roadtrip staple for me. This band is on my short list, and the song is amazing live.
  19. “The Promise”—Tracy Chapman. I walked down the aisle of my wedding to this song. Though she had put out a number of albums before “New Beginning”, this album is where I discovered Tracy on a camping trip to Montana. I played it nonstop, and this song always hit me right in the heart. It led to a huge collection of her music and eventually hearing the song live in concert while holding hands with my wife. A pretty cool relationship moment.
  20. “No One”—Alicia Keys. This one is for my daughter. When she was an infant and having a crying fit that could not be settled, this song always came to my rescue. I would put the iPod dock on REPEAT mode with “No One” and sway through the kitchen with her in my arms. It did the trick every time. I love the song anyway, but knowing that my little angel loved it, too, gave it an extra special place in my heart.

There you have it: the soundtrack of my life. As I said, I can think of dozens of songs that are deserving of a spot on the playlist, and it pains me to leave them off. But this list seems right for my journey.

How about your journey? What is on the playlist of your life? Get out your journal and your CDs/cassettes/albums/iPod. Let yourself be swept away. What images come up with the songs? Do you remember the good and the bad times equally? How many images are about love? Who do the songs make you miss the most? Which is your favorite? Do you have, like me, such clear images of the songs of childhood, but fewer standouts from more recent years? I hope you have as much fun dancing through your memories as I did in making my list. Leave me a reply and let me know: what’s on the soundtrack of your life?

Sing out loud & dance like nobody’s watching,

William

Are You Fine Wine or Rotten Grapes?

Ripples on Pelican 0330_3“There’s never a wish better than this: when you only got a hundred years to live.”                                  –John Ondrasik (“100 Years”) 

Hello friend,

I think I am about to start having a tough time with this aging thing.

I’m 41 years old. I’ll be honest: those first 40 were pretty easy on me, both physically and psychologically. I found a beautiful, much younger-looking wife and worked in a job that let me act young and fit. Sure, I had some bumps and hiccups along the way. I had back surgery at 31. I started going gray even before that (and that train isn’t one that just stops, friend!). I have the wrinkles of someone 10 years my senior. I admit to some vanity, so accepting these battle scars has taken some work. But I have done pretty well at swallowing those potentially bitter pills. So far, so good.

Helping my cause, I think, was waiting to have my kids until my mid-to-late 30s. I was able to carry off the “I must be young; I haven’t even had kids yet” trick in my mind, AND avoid the total sleep deprivation/obliteration that inevitably comes with new parenthood. But then, after they came, right up until around, say, TODAY, I was riding the “My kids are so little. OF COURSE I am still young!” Walking through the grocery store with my two darlings, people—especially older people–would give that wonderful, warm-hearted look of reminiscence that said, “Ahhh, so cute to see a Dad with his baby and toddler. What a wonderful time in the life of a young family!” I love that look! It is like a psychological air-brushing: instant age reduction! So I have been living and loving the delusion of early adulthood for a good while now.

Until today, that is. This morning I got a reality check in the form of a visit to the dentist for my daughter’s first fillings. The first thing they did was put her on a scale to check her weight. Fifty-eight pounds. Wait. WHAT?!?!? How did my toddler become 58 pounds and have two cavities? Too much candy, you say? Nope. Sadly, it turns out that my little baby somehow became a tall, thin kindergartener who reads—and eats candy, too, I admit–about as well as I do. GULP! Okay, now I have tasted the bitter pill. I am no longer young. I am feeling O.L.D.!!!

I am thinking of the previous phase as Early Adulthood, basically the 20s and 30s. In that phase, at least somebody thought I was young, even if it was just me. I had either no kids or young kids, and I could occasionally be thought of as still a young and somewhat attractive Tennis teacher to my adult clients. Now I am more in the category of weathered, veteran coach to those at my job. Outside of it, I am sliding quickly away from the “New Father” role and into “A Guy With Kids.” Physically, I am changing on the inside, too. Whereas I used to jump from one injury to the next as any active, athletic person does, now the injuries don’t go away. I have been nursing a bum foot for nearly a year. That is old person material!

Yes, as graceful and accepting as I seem to be handling the aging stuff so far, I am not so sure of myself for the next phase. As much as I hear parents talking about the elementary school years being this blissful oasis between the exhaustion of the diaper years and the turmoil of the teenage years, I am finding myself feeling very clingy to these early years. I LOVE being my kids’ best friend; that role feels right and comfortable. I know that those days are numbered, however, and that doesn’t feel so good to me. I don’t want to be outgrown.

In my work, too, the road ahead is beginning to look scary. Coaching tennis is not like coaching football, baseball, or basketball, where it is enough to be a good motivator and strategist. I am actually supposed to be good at playing, better than the people I am teaching. That is tougher to sustain as the injuries and years pile up and don’t retreat. It is a young person’s profession. And the longer I stay in it, the less appealing I become to a prospective employer in a different field should I decide to change careers. The squeeze is on. I am feeling the very real fear of becoming irrelevant, both in my own field and in all others. This Middle Age thing is not for sissies!

I quoted John Ondrasik’s (Five for Fighting) song “100 Years” at the top because that song always makes me think about the path of life and this train called TIME that never stops, no matter how much a guy like me begs it to. In the verse about this new phase I am entering (and fearing), he sings, “I’m 45 for a moment, The sea is high and I’m heading into a crisis, Chasing the years of my life.”

I don’t want to be that guy who resists the natural flow of the life cycle. I don’t want to be perpetually “chasing the years of my life.” I want to do just as my hero, Henry David Thoreau, suggests: “to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life.” I guess the thing is just to embrace it. Embrace the moment—every moment—whatever it brings and whatever my role is. I want to enjoy all of the moments—indeed, even revel in them—until my last breath leaves me. I have done that so far, so I don’t know why I have this current anxiety about losing that ability to remain in the precious present. But there it is.

How about you? How are you aging? Open your journal and tell it your Truth. Have you moved gracefully from one era of your life to the next? Have you fought it kicking and screaming at any point? Did you ever have what you think of as a “mid-life crisis” or, as John Mayer says, a “quarter-life crisis”? Compare your present era to your known past and imagined future phases: Is this phase better or worse than the others? Are you looking forward to your next chapter, or dreading it? How accepting are you of your aging body? Write honestly to yourself, and then leave me a reply. I want to know: when it comes to aging, are you like fine wine or rotten grapes?

You are lovable in every moment,

William

Who Rubs You The Wrong Way?

DSC_0442Hello friend,

Passive-aggressive. Bossy. Non-stop talker. Pessimistic. Needy. Smarmy. Stingy. Vulgar. Nosy. Selfish. Complainer. Worrier. Arrogant. Lazy. Hyper. Greedy. Unintelligent. Rude. Temperamental. Liar. Bragger. Competitive. Unreliable.

The list could go on and on, I suppose. I am talking about the qualities or personality traits that are the most unattractive in people. I might even go so far as to say repulsive. There are those individuals in your corner of the world—relatives, co-workers, acquaintances, store clerks, salespeople, neighbors, teammates, classmates—whom you really, REALLY want to avoid. You do your best to be courteous and keep your interactions brief, but you know deep down that if the two of you were locked in a room or on a long car ride, one of you just might not make it out alive. Any bells ringing yet?

I am a pretty unsocial guy, so I avoid most conversations outside of my home and my workplace. Thankfully, at least for the sake of this discussion, my job provides more than enough characters and situations to expose these not-so-lovely traits. I teach tennis, mostly to adults. I work with some people privately, some in groups, and I am involved in their competitions with others, often needing to speak with both sides simultaneously after a tough match. All of these situations provide ample opportunity for me get to know various sides of people’s personalities: the good, the bad, and the ugly. And believe me, it gets ugly! If you have a mental picture of someone for each of the different characteristics I listed at the top, I get to meet all of them at work tomorrow. Lucky me!!

So, of all these special folks, who rubs me the most wrong? Who can get under my skin just walking in the door? That’s easy: ARROGANT. Definitely arrogant. I am no fan of the complainer or the lazy, sure, but arrogance brings out something different in me. It makes my blood boil a bit. I can think of a player on one of my teams who makes me work REALLY HARD to be pleasant to her for 90 minutes. Her teammates can barely stand her, and after every match she plays—even if there is no big blow-up during the match—her opponent is ready to tear her head off. The woman oozes arrogance. It drips off of her.

That is the interesting thing about arrogance compared to most of the other unappealing traits: you can see it. It is embedded in every mannerism. Nonverbals never screamed so loud before. They say, in no uncertain terms, “You are beneath me. I am better than you. I dismiss you!” Other personality traits often require some lengthy and intimate experiences with a person to come out. Arrogance announces itself at the outset. It comes right out of the pores. I picture the Billy Zane character in “Titanic”. That guy had arrogant down. Last night I was watching “Sofia the First”, a Disney cartoon, with my five-year-old, and she told me she didn’t like Princess Amber “because she thinks she is better than everyone else.” She got to learn a new vocabulary word: arrogant. It turns out that it even oozes from cartoon characters!

What I want to know more than anything is this: what does it say about me that arrogance is the one that pushes my buttons most? What does it reveal? I believe that our “enemies” are really our greatest teachers, and that what annoys or angers us in others often points to an issue we need to resolve in ourselves. So, why me and arrogance?

I have a couple different theories on my issue with arrogance and its unhealthy power to make my blood boil. First, there was a time in my life—high school—when people certainly believed I was arrogant (“stuck-up” is the high school word for arrogant, or at least it was at my school). And, while most of what anyone thinks or finds important in high school is utter nonsense—oh, how insecure we are at that age!—through the lens of 20-plus years later, I don’t know that it was all wrong about me. While I think I have eradicated most of that in all this time and found some humility to replace it, I still have to catch myself in moments when I find my intellectual snobbery creeping in. So, perhaps what boils my blood is seeing in the arrogant person the worst part of myself. It’s an ugly reflection.

My other theory on my strong reaction to arrogance centers around a shot at my ego. Like most people, I like to think of myself in positive terms. I try to embrace the good things about me and am probably in denial about the bad stuff. In any case, I have a pretty strong self-esteem. As I mentioned above, everything about the arrogant person screams, “You are beneath me.” My ego simply does not want to hear that. It feels like an assault on me every time I encounter arrogance. My defense mechanisms go up and I feel the urge to cut that person down to size just so they are clear that I am NOT beneath them. My ego really wants to teach them that lesson. (I am honestly just uncovering this about myself as I write this to you, and it is a pretty tough realization. What a waste of my energy! I need to get over it. Now.)

So, how about you? What’s your trigger? Open up your journal and your mind; it is time to write it out. Which personality trait gets deepest under your skin? Think about all the people you know? Is it your passive-aggressive sister-in-law, your unreliable co-worker, or your nosy neighbor? There are many unattractive traits, but which one really pushes your buttons. Then, what do you think that says about you? Is there some of that repulsive trait in you—like my arrogance–that you feel ashamed of? Are you able to see these people as teachers, or is it just too hard to get past the repulsion or anger? Maybe writing it out in your journal can build that bridge for you. Give it a shot, and then leave me a reply. I want to know: who rubs you the wrong way?

The answer is within,

William

What Step Can You Take Today?

“DSC_0248If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.” –Henry David Thoreau

Hello friend,

Everyone has big rocks. Goals. Things you want to accomplish. Habits you want to begin. Things that are out there in the shadows of your mind, ready to be illuminated simply by looking at them and admitting their importance. These rocks are different for everyone. Lose weight. Learn how to paint. Finally remodel the bathroom. Start your own business. Write a daily journal (yes!). Reconnect with your life partner. Trace your ancestry. Travel to Rome. Daily meditation. Go back to school. Get in shape.

Two months ago, I started this “Journal of You” blog. For the year-and-a-half leading up to that, the focus of all of my non-children time—my biggest rock–was working on what I call TJP, or The Journal Project. I read through and took notes on every one of my daily journal entries from the nearly 50 volumes I have filled in all of my years of journaling (basically my entire adult life). For most of that year-and-a-half, the long-term goal of the project was to make some sort of a book out of the entries. I wanted my daily habit to become an example for others, an inspiration to get to know themselves through journaling. When I finally finished reading and taking notes, I realized that, at the pace I was moving and the time I had, it might take a few more years to actually produce that book.

The feeling began to gnaw at me that I couldn’t wait that long to get my voice–my message–out into the Universe. I was impatient to, if not be done with my rock, perhaps bust it up a little. I asked myself, “What can I do right now—what step can I take today—to advance my agenda, to move my rock?” The answer, of course, was to start “Journal of You”. I started writing to you twice a week in an attempt to coax you into starting your journal to discover yourself and ultimately become a happier, more grateful person. It was more of a giant leap for me than a small step, but that is kind of how I roll. Even though the blog has taken up a lot of time–that I didn’t have in the first place–I love doing it, and it has become part of my schedule. It means a lot to me, too, because it symbolizes to me that I have put myself out there, not just to you but to the Universe, so the gods know I am DOING something about my dreams, not just talking about them or writing about them in a journal.

But what now?  The blog has settled into my schedule. Even though some days I feel like it is all I can do to keep up writing and coming up with new ideas for the next one, I also feel like I need to go beyond that. I have other rocks, after all, and though in my most lucid moments I am aware that I cannot do everything at once, I don’t want to get lazy, don’t want to be irresponsible with my gifts and my dreams. I keep reminding myself, “This is not a dress rehearsal!”

So, what are my big rocks at the moment that need to be addressed? I definitely have to return to The Journal Project and start the next phase, which is typing everything up.   That could take years—literally years—to finish, but it must start sometime? I made it through the first (reading & note-taking) phase, which was a year-and-a-half, so I know I have it in me. I also have to get on my plan for life coach certification. That has always seemed like this giant, vague, amorphous shadow that is somewhere “out there”, that I have yet to come to know. It retains an air of mystery because of that, but, much more powerfully, it is frightening to me. For one, I know it is going to involve a large investment of both time and money for me. Those are things I do not part with easily. Second, jumping into the training means I am really going to do it. That means shaking up my whole world, potentially changing careers entirely and starting fresh. Sure, that is exciting, but it’s scary as hell, too. It is in my DNA to have a million more rocks to move, too—daily meditation, get back in shape, learn the guitar, paint my bedroom, and on and on—but The Journal Project and life coaching are the rocks that feel heaviest to me today.

Though these rocks are almost so big and scary that they resemble the monster in the closet that is more comfortable to ignore than to face, face them I must. I am compelled to do something to chip away at them. Anything! But what? What can I do today—even this week—to shine a light on the monster, to make the boulder a little smaller, to “endeavor to live the life which I have imagined”? Here is what I have decided. For The Journal Project, I am going to give myself both daily and weekly goals and minimum quotas, and I am going to schedule the time to achieve those goals. I am slowly learning the wisdom of scheduling my priorities, that if something is not on my schedule, it is not really a priority and will not get done. For the life-coaching monster, I am going to finally give it a face. I am going to get on the Internet and research the different options for training and certification. I am going to learn—in clear and certain terms—how long the training is going to take and how much it is going to cost. That will allow me to frame it more clearly when I try to come up with some sort of a 5-Year Plan. Right now, I just want to know what I am looking at. Understanding the time and money commitment will do that for me.

Those are my action items: make my goals and schedule the typing time, and do the Internet research to get clarity on the scope of the training. Whew!!! It feels like a relief already. The big rocks don’t seem so big and scary—so monstrous—anymore. I feel so much more free to “advance confidently in the direction of my dreams.” I didn’t need to clear the entire road ahead of me, just the next step. On I go!

So, how about you? Get out your journal, and let’s get specific. What are your rocks? Are they lifelong challenges, or have you discovered them more recently? Are they related to your dreams and following your Bliss, or are they more tasky things, like home projects? Are they one-time deals or more about habit-building? How much stress do they give you? Sometimes the mere idea of achieving a goal—or even working towards it—can relieve that stress dramatically. Once you identify your rocks, what can you do—TODAY—to move them? How can you make them more manageable? Give yourself an action item. Then, leave me a reply. I want to know: what step can you take today?

Walk like you mean it,

William

The New Mount Rushmore?

DSC_0880“You can tell that something isn’t right, When all your heroes are in black and white” –John Mayer

Hello friend,

Last month, basketball superhero LeBron James sparked a flurry of debate when he named his “Basketball Mount Rushmore”. Everyone and their dog and had an opinion—I came down on Jordan, Russell, Kareem, and Magic, in case you care—and it made for fascinating discussion. I have been stuck on the idea ever since. I have been debating in my head about who might belong on the Mount Rushmore of each sport, of authors, musicians, painters, actors, directors, talk show hosts, television characters, and on and on. You name it! It is great fodder for a friendly debate with your buddies over a cool beverage, or, in my case, journal material while I am swilling hot chocolate.

What I just realized, though, is that in all of my pondering over the million new versions of Mount Rushmore of the various fields, I never stopped to consider the real deal. What about the actual Mount Rushmore??? Is it above debate just because it is carved into a mountainside? And, perhaps more interestingly, how about a new one? Yeah, what if we could make an updated Mount Rushmore, from people prominent just since, say, 1960? This is within most of our lifetimes. We are kind of a short-term memory, what-have-you-done-for-me-lately kind of people these days, so maybe this is just right for us. I’m giving it a shot!

I have to start with Martin Luther King, Jr., mainly because when I started thinking about the revising the real Mount Rushmore, he was the first one that came to my mind in terms of an iconic figure who truly shaped the way we live and the way we see the world today (See ya, Teddy Roosevelt!). If he can make it on my all-time list, he can definitely make the Modern Mount Rushmore. This one is my no-brainer.

Here is where it gets tough! Our society has changed so much in the last 50-plus years. The Presidents—or anyone else for that matter—don’t get put on pedestals like they used to. We have become much more into our celebrities and our electronic devices than we have our politicians. With that in mind, I think we have to consider people for our Modern Rushmore who represent not so much change in our national policies as much as in our culture as a whole, the way we live.

In the world of entertainment, the face that keeps coming to me is Oprah. Think about it: if you had an amazing tale to tell the world and were going to pick one person to interview you for a prime-time special, who would you pick? Oprah is more famous, wealthy, and powerful than any of the famous, wealthy, and powerful people she chooses to interview. She is an accomplished actor, producer, and talk show host, and, oh yeah, has a magazine and an entire network named after her. I know that not everyone loves Oprah, but enough people do, and she is undeniably an icon.

If entertainment is going to get a face on the Modern Mount Rushmore, I think technology needs one, too. It is simply who we have become in recent years, and that doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. Unfortunately for me, my knowledge of the hierarchy of tech giants is miniscule. I have to guess the main candidates that have shaped our way of life more than anyone else are Apple’s Steve Jobs and Bill Gates of Microsoft in the computer industry, and Facebook’s Mark Zuckerberg in the social media sphere. Because I am writing on a MacBook right now and have an iPhone in my pocket, I am going to give my Modern Rushmore face to Steve Jobs. I remember my elementary school getting one Apple IIe on a rolling cart and how excited I was when it was my classroom’s turn to use it for the day so we could play “Oregon Trail”. I also remember being just completely in awe of the iPod when it came out, how I could suddenly fit my hundreds of CDs in my pocket. It seems that, in our technology-driven world, the Gotta-Have-It items all come from Apple. Steve Jobs, you are on the mountain!

Okay, one more spot to fill. It feels like we must have a President on there, doesn’t it? I mean, the actual Mount Rushmore is four Presidents, after all. This is a challenge. Kennedy, coming right at the beginning of our Modern period, is tempting, because we romanticize anyone who dies young (e.g. James Dean, Marilyn Monroe). It was a pretty brief presidency, though. Ronald Reagan is certainly an icon for Republicans. Hmmm…. The one that has me most tempted, however, is Obama. Yes, Obama. That probably sounds totally crazy, as he is still in office, has had highly controversial policies, and by most historians’ ratings is not even in the Top Ten for greatest Presidents of all-time (my quick study of websites shows him around 14 or 15, slightly behind Kennedy but ahead of the rest of the Presidents in the era we are considering). So why put his face on the Modern Mount Rushmore?

I think Obama symbolizes where this country is heading for future Presidential elections. In a relatively brief time, he went from an unknown, inexperienced Senator to an actual movement. With charisma and excellent speaking skills, young people in our country latched onto him. He became hot in the way a new Hollywood celebrity becomes hot. I foresee that happening more and more in our future. I think we will see–driven by social media–charismatic figures with less and less political experience rise to office on a wave of fame, similar to what Arnold Schwarzenegger did in California. Obama was actually qualified and a politician, but his meteoric rise, along with our society’s lust for celebrity, will encourage a greater variety of characters to give Presidential politics a shot. Like Steve Jobs or Oprah, he symbolizes not so much our heroes but who we are as a society and what drives us.

The question of trying to squeeze President Obama onto our Modern Mount Rushmore points up the problem of trying to put anyone on there anymore. We live in a society that has lost its innocence. Our media outlets no longer offer the President–or any other celebrity–privacy in any area of their lives. But more than that, our media—and us, frankly—have essentially given up on manners when it comes to speaking to or about our leaders. It has become normal for “mainstream” news networks to totally bash the President—whoever it is—both politically and personally. The late-night comedy talk show hosts are merciless. The President is no longer protected by the media. Whether or not the media knew about all of Kennedy’s behind-the-scenes shenanigans, the view that the public received was Camelot. It was the elegant wife and the beautiful kids growing up in the White House. It was idyllic. Compare that to Obama. He has the elegant wife and beautiful young kids, too, but no one is selling Camelot anymore. It just doesn’t sway the way it used to.

We are jaded. It is tough to make a hero these days. We know too much and allow too many shows of disrespect to our leaders to allow anyone to get their balance on the pedestal, much less to take root there. We build people up to tear them down the next week, moving from one flavor to the next in our attention-deficit media minds. I shudder to think who we would put on the Rushmore of the next 50 years. The sculptor’s mountain would turn quickly into a molehill, because he would be scraping off the faces and starting over every few weeks as we turned our latest heroes to villains. Needless to say, the age of carving faces into mountains is probably long behind us.

So, after all of this, has the idea of creating a Modern Mount Rushmore been a waste of thoughts? Have I been chasing the wind? Maybe so. Maybe it is impossible to make lasting heroes today. It is certainly getting harder, anyway. That makes me a little sad to think about. Maybe the thing is to not try to make a mountain for everyone, but rather, carve your stone in your own backyard. Find the people in your world–however unknown they may be to others—who inspire you, who are worth emulating. Tell people about the faces on your rock. Ask other people which faces are on theirs. Make your rock matter to you. But have one! Find people to be inspired by. They are out there.

Okay, it is time to unload your thoughts into your journal. Who do you think deserves a spot on the Modern Mount Rushmore? Does anyone from your modern list kick someone off the actual Mount Rushmore? Do you agree with me that the modern version should include some non-political figures? What about your personal rock? What is it about those four people that lands them there? Why should we come to know them? This is a topic that can go a lot of ways, so be open-minded and think deeply. Leave me a reply and let me know: who is on your list?

You are amazing,

William

Which Way Do You Lean?

DSC_1336Hello friend,

This is a dangerous topic! Along with its friend Religion, this is one of the two subjects you are not supposed to bring up in polite conversation. Let’s talk about—you guessed it–POLITICS! Yes, politics. You are probably cringing at the thought, but I am actually going to make it safe for you—just this once—to talk about where you really stand politically.

How, you ask, could I ever make it safe and socially acceptable for you to talk about where you stand on such divisive issues as gay marriage, Obamacare, gun control, abortion, military spending, welfare, and capital punishment, without offending someone or ending a friendship? Easy, I say. You get to write it all down in a journal.

Politics is such a strange topic for me. I waffle back and forth between, on the one hand, wanting to be super-engaged and even considering what office I should run for, to, on the other hand, being so completely disgusted by the politicians and the whole political process in America that I cannot stand to see or hear another one of them speak. I want to make positive change in this world—indeed, I have even had, at random moments in my life, the thought, “I wonder if I should run for President so I can heal our seemingly infinite social problems?”–and I have to think that most of these folks got into it with similar aspirations. So, why do almost all of them end up looking to me like slippery, self-serving, snakes whose only aspiration is to get re-elected?

It annoys me when I am ambivalent about a topic. Why do I pay almost no attention to what these guys are talking about in the non-election years but then, come election season, I dust off my television and stay up late with the CNN crew dissecting every word of every Presidential debate? I think it because I want to love it. I really do. I want to be inspired by these people, want to be pushed to become civically engaged, want to believe that the political process truly results in a great service to the people of our country and our world. I desperately want to.

I grew up in the 1980s in a thoroughly Republican house in a thoroughly Republican state. Ronald Reagan may as well have been God. When he annihilated Walter Mondale in the 1984 election, it only affirmed in my young mind that Republicans were superior beings. If you asked me then, or any time in the next 10 years, what Republicans stood for or what made the Democrats so inferior, I wouldn’t have had a clue. I knew nothing about the issues. Nothing! The first Presidential election in which I was old enough to vote was 1992. It was Bush #1 vs. Clinton #1. Knowing nothing, I voted REPUBLICAN. The Democrat won. I don’t know if it was my shock from the realization that there was another side that had voters, or if I was simply growing up and actually thinking, but by the time the next election came around, I had an opinion. I went with Clinton—a DEMOCRAT—for his second term (It’s a good thing for the secret ballot, because I would have been excommunicated from my family on the spot). By the time 2000 rolled around, I was so significantly unimpressed by the two major party candidates that I went with Ralph Nader and the GREEN PARTY (And no, I am not the one who cost Gore the election, because North Dakota’s electoral votes weren’t going anywhere but to Bush in that race). Since then, the Democrat in every Presidential race has had my vote.

I am not a party guy. It is in my nature to resist being affiliated with a group. In high school, you couldn’t have made me wear a letterman’s jacket or the tennis team’s state championship jacket if you paid for it. I don’t know what it is, but I do not like to join groups, and even less do I like advertising the ones I am in. Thus, I cannot imagine ever joining a political party. I keep waiting for a party to come along and really impress me with its stance on the issues and the candidates it puts forth. I certainly wish we had a system that encouraged more than two parties, because it seems to me that our two have become grossly homogenized. I know there are differences between the two—there are reasons I fill in the circle by the Democrat’s name in the local elections that I don’t know enough about—but I am not clear on how different the results are depending on who is in power. I think it would be refreshing to get some other voices into the process. The two we currently hear are not exactly lighting my fire.

I seem to be more attached to the issues than the parties. As the years have gone on, I have become about as liberal as can be. I want everybody to have food on their table, health care, and the right to get married. I don’t want anybody owning assault weapons, our military to attack and occupy countries we simply disagree with, or our courts to command criminals to die. I want the environment taken care of and women to be in charge of their bodies. I know that a lot of these things cost money, and though I don’t have a lot of that, I can live with the cost. It feels like a privilege that we in this country have the option of paying, that the money is there (I am a really cheap guy, too, so parting with my money doesn’t come by me easily). As I mentioned, I am not exactly one for advertising my affiliations, so I never thought I would put a political sign in my yard. However, when my wife brought one home in the last election in support of gay marriage, I didn’t fight it. I would rather get behind issues than parties. In any case, I am clearly leaning left.

How about you? Where do you fit on the spectrum? It is time for you to break out the journal for that rare moment of total honesty regarding your politics. Do you belong to a party? Why or why not? Which issues speak to you most? Are there some that you really have no opinion on? Those can be the best ones to write about. If you consider yourself either a Republican or Democrat, are there any of the issues that you significantly disagree with the opinion of your party on? Do you think you are who you are politically because of your race, gender, religion, or economic class? Who in your life can you talk openly about this stuff with? How about your family? Are you all on the same page, or are you the me in your brood? More than most topics, I really want you to dive extra deep on this one, because your journal may be the one place you can actually be open and honest about these issues. Believe me, it can be quite liberating to get this stuff off your chest. Leave me a reply and let me know how it goes. I want to know: which way do you lean?

Authentic you is beautiful you,

William

Are You a Quitter?

DSC_1169Hello friend,

Last week, somebody told me I was a quitter.  That’s right: a quitter.  It is not everyday that you get that thrown at you in polite conversation.  But there it was, right in my face.  Quitter!

Let me give you some context.  I was talking with an acquaintance who hadn’t previously known a lot about my past but has been reading my blog posts the last couple of months.  I have been pretty open in the posts about my past as well as the things that light me up—like writing this blog for you—and what I see myself doing in the future.  I have mentioned things like leaving college to study acting in my early 20s and later leaving a doctorate program.  I have also mentioned my desire to reach and teach a greater number of people through writing/speaking/life coaching.

So, last week when I saw my acquaintance who suddenly knew a lot more about me than she had before, she instantly got on my case about pursuing a life coaching certification immediately.  It was totally well-meaning, of course; she really seemed to want me to live my purpose as soon as possible.  She was pushing hard, though, trying to press me on what was holding me back and then dismissing any possible excuse.  Then she dropped it on me.  “Look, you have quit on a lot of stuff in your life!”  I was a little taken aback at first but mostly amused at the accusation, so I said, “Like what?”  She, of course, listed all of the things I mentioned above, and concluded with, “You have quit everything you’ve ever done!”

Was it true?  Am I a quitter?  I decided I needed to explore this idea, so of course I turned to my journal.  I walked myself through all of the major course changes I have made in my life and asked if each change was a result of me quitting something.  I came to see that it was crucial to the discussion to find the essence of what “quitting” really is.

What does it mean to quit?  The term carries such a negative connotation in our daily conversation.  For me, quitting involves giving up on something that is very important to you, especially when the going gets tough and you believe you just aren’t up to the task, that it is too difficult and too scary.  Fear is a big part of it: fear of not being enough.  The other key element, in my view, in defining the concept of quitting is regret.  When you really quit on something—when you bail out of something that is an important part of who you are—it is worthy of feelings of regret later.  It doesn’t have to be the case that you feel regret—lots of people bury their heads and hearts in the sand (with addictions, denial, or other destructive behaviors) to escape the feeling—but rather, if you looked yourself in the mirror for the cold truth, you would find regret shrouding the event.  Quitting is regret-worthy.

So, how about me?  Had I been quitting on each step of my journey?  Was each new road I took just a cowardly bailing out of the previous path?  Let’s review.  From the time I was a kid, I always thought I was going to be a doctor.  I told myself that all through high school and my first couple of years of college.  Then, as that whole world of medical school/doctoring/the rest of my life began to feel close at hand, my inner voice started screaming at me that that was not the path for me.  So, in fairly abrupt fashion, I pulled out of school.

I had become enchanted with the idea of studying acting, so I bounced around the country doing that, eventually landing in Los Angeles.  From the time I arrived there, it was fairly clear to me that I wasn’t in love with the people or the business of acting, but I loved the craft of it.  Though I very much wanted to be famous so I could make an impact on people’s lives, I always told myself that as soon as something else lit my fancy, I would leave LA.  I never did get the “big break” acting job, but I was doing my best—getting some parts and an agent–at the time I decided to leave.  I can honestly say that it never crossed my mind as I was preparing to leave that I had “failed” as an actor.  I simply found something else I wanted to do more.  I wanted to travel and enrich myself with books and self-exploration.  So I left.  I have always missed the acting but never the other stuff.  Great lessons, no regrets.

From there I passed into a wonderful period of travel and learning.  All of this study eventually led me back to college—hoping to learn even more–which then led me into a Ph.D. program in Philosophy.  I hoped that by studying Applied Ethics, I could bring positive change to the world by eradicating social problems.  It wasn’t until I got going in the six-year program that I realized that this path was not for me, that it wasn’t going to fulfill me the way I had envisioned it would.  The goal was a good one, but this wasn’t the best way to achieve it.  So again, I abruptly removed myself from the situation.  I quit the program.

From graduate school, I moved on to teaching Tennis.  Here I have been for the last twelve years.  (Well, if truth be told, I actually quit part of this job, too.  I was a manager in the field, but I stepped down from those duties when my daughter was born so I could spend more time with her.  Quitter.  Ha!)

I guess that the best way I can explain this to myself is that there feels like a big difference between truly “quitting” something—with the fear and the future regret —and simply changing course because the path you are on no longer feels authentic to you, not representative of your soul’s true calling and joy.  We do change, right?  I surely have.  I was into college 100%…..until I wasn’t.  I loved acting…..until I found something that lit me up even more.  I thought that graduate school was going to lead me toward a goal that meant a lot to me…..until I got there and realized the road was going in a slightly different direction.

Now I have been on this Tennis path—and enjoyed being on it—for all of this time, but my soul is stirring again.  I am wondering if I can do the world more good–and be more fulfilled–by doing more writing/speaking/life coaching.  What if I change course again?  Will that qualify as quitting another thing?  {Odd aside: does it strike you as ironic that the woman who called me a quitter was doing so to motivate me to quit my current profession?  People are special.}  I think that to label every course change as “quitting” is to turn people into cartoon characters.  It is a shallow way to label.  Besides, is there really some great honor in staying in something that no longer serves your greatest good nor feels authentic to you?

I know that quitting happens.  We get faced with difficult life situations all the time—it is not easy to achieve our goals—and bail out.  We make excuses and hide from the regret that comes with abandoning our dreams.  But more often, we think we want something—a marriage, a career path, whatever—so we try it out and give it a good opportunity to light up our soul, eventually finding that it simply does not, or that something else lights it more.  So we choose a different path on our quest for happiness.  It seems to me that true quitting is much more rare than our convenient use of the term.  More tragic and frequent, I think, is the absence of trying, the paralyzing fear of failing if we really do make a run at our dreams.

I would rather fail or “quit” a hundred different pursuits as long as I was living my Truth, taking a chance on true Happiness and Fulfillment.  So, I will keep living authentically, marching to the beat of my own drummer.  Then, when I reach the end of my life’s journey, I can look back with contentment on all of the roads I have traveled.  Walking in my Truth is enough for me.

How about you?  Open your journal and write about your journey.  What does the road of your life look like?  Have you kept your hands at ten and two the whole way, never changing course?  Or, are you like me, taking some sharp turns or totally jumping off track here and there?  How would you label your shifts?  Did you quit, or did you simply choose differently?  It is certainly not easy to admit that we quit, and we can go to great lengths to convince ourselves otherwise.  So, I commend you in advance if you really can own the regrets and other baggage that comes with such an admission.   Walk through all of your big life changes.  Then leave me a reply and let me know: are you a quitter?

Embrace yourself,

William

The Books That Have Touched Me Deepest

DSC_0522“I cannot live without books” –Thomas Jefferson

Hello friend,

My Mom once got me an old-style book bag with that Jefferson quote on it, and I hung it from a lamp in my room for years and years.  It doesn’t just say something about me; it speaks to me.  I can hardly recite it without my voice cracking and my hair standing on end.  It goes right to my core.  I cannot live without books.

I have always loved to read.   When I was in my mid-20s, for one year I kept track of all the books I read.  I averaged more than one per week and was gloriously happy in the process.  The only problem: each book I read suggested several more, so I ended up with a Wish List that was hundreds of titles long.  There is just so much to know!  Whenever I want to wander away in my mind, I just spin my desk chair around and gaze at my enormous bookshelf.  I easily drift away into the many favorites that have become so much a part of me over the years.  They are like old friends, the shelves like a photo album of fond memories.  However, there are also so many there that remain untouched, unopened.  Those are the ones that hound me, begging for my attention.  I vow to get to them all one day.  But how can I keep up?  A sane person would realize that he is too busy to get to the ones he already has and be wise enough to not add to the collection.  I, however, am insane.  Every year my Christmas list is full of more titles to fill the shelves.  What can I say?  I love books.

Last night as I wrote, I found myself needing a mental break.  I swung my chair around to look at my dear old friends on the shelves.  As I pondered my long list of favorites, I found my eyes and my memory drawn to the same titles over and over.  These were the books that burned right into my soul the first time I read them and have remained a genuine piece of who I am over the years.  My honorable mention list is enormous, but these four have certainly touched me the deepest:

  • Walden—Henry David Thoreau.  This book rocked my world and set me on my course probably more than any other.  I had always been drawn to it and finally read it when I was about 24.  Honestly, it felt like Thoreau was writing right out of my own mind.  I completely identified with his desire for solitude and simplicity, and I was similarly disenchanted with society.  But mostly I loved how he wanted to live authentically, to be fully himself and pay no mind to what others expected of him nor thought of him.  I loved that he “wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life.”  Those words shake me even as I type them.  This book shook me.  It truly set me on the psychological and spiritual path that I still live on.  I have adopted it as my own.
  • Into the Wild—Jon Krakauer.  The true story of Christopher McCandless’ (a.k.a. Alexander Supertramp) walk out of society and into his Truth—and ultimate death—in the wilderness has been out for nearly twenty years, yet I have never been able to shake him from my system.  He haunts me.  As with Thoreau, I very much identified with McCandless’ ideals and longings.  I believe that Krakauer did as well, and that bleeds into the telling of the story.  I have always enjoyed this type of book that reveals the tragic outcome at the beginning of the account and then goes back to dive into the lives of the characters and traces the timeline leading to the tragedy (e.g. The Perfect Storm, Finding Everett Ruess, and Krakauer’s Into Thin Air), but this is by far the one that still lives in me.  If I opened it right now, I wouldn’t put it down until I finished the last page.
  • Conversations With God—Neale Donald Walsch.  I am actually cheating with this one, because I am including the entire …With God series–some of which I actually like better than the first book–in my sentiment.  Like Walden, this series is a cornerstone in my entire spiritual/psychological foundation.  It came to me at a time, not long after Thoreau, when I had shed the religious teachings of my youth but had not yet found anyone talking specifically about the God I knew.  Enter Walsch and his “conversation” with God.  I found myself saying out loud, “Yes” or “Exactly!” frequently as I read.  I knew I wasn’t alone.  Having read the Bible, Koran, Bhagavad-Gita, and other sacred texts, I found some relief, too, in the idea that holy books did not have to be 2,000 years old.
  • On The Road—Jack Kerouac.  This is pure romance for me.  I was absolutely taken by these mad characters, all based on real people—including himself—in Kerouac’s life.  The “spontaneous prose” that he writes in completely swept me away.  Much like the others, this book gained its place in my heart based on its appearance on my life’s timeline.  You see, just as I was about to embark on the biggest “roadtrip” of my life—wandering around Europe alone for a few months with my backpack—I grabbed a couple of paperbacks at a New York bookstore to be my companions for the trip.  As fate would have it, On The Road was first.  I read it as I sat along the canals in Amsterdam, fantasizing about Jack’s beatific world and the mysterious road ahead of me.  My soul was absolutely on fire!  This was an instant classic for me.

I find myself so happy and grateful as I think about these books.  They have done so much for me, and I feel completely humbled by their magnitude.  As someone who likes to share through the written word, I am, of course, jealous of the astounding ability of these authors.  What I see as the common thread running through the four works is a wonderful execution by the authors in reaching the very core elements of humanity, allowing us to see ourselves bare and real, in all our beautiful Truth.  That is why they make my list, and why they make me.

How about you?  Which books are on your list?  Which ones penetrate right to your core?  Are yours more fiction than mine?  Probably so, as even my fiction title is based on real people!  Can you find a common thread running through your books?  Do yours more often make you laugh, cry, or ponder?  I would LOVE to hear about your list and anything else book-related—this is such a pet topic for me—so please leave a reply.  Let’s talk books!  Tell me: which ones have touched you the deepest?

ALL of you is magnificent,

William