Category Archives: Authenticity

Are You Destined For Greatness?

“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

“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 31^st 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:

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.
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.
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.
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.
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.!
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.
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:

Be fully in the moment.
Act like my wife’s best friend & biggest fan.
Reduce sugar intake.
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

My Mom is Awesome!

“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?

“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

“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:

“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!!!)
“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.
“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!
“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!
“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!
“I Love Rock ‘n Roll”—Joan Jett & The Blackhearts. Enough said.
“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!
“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.
“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!
“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.
“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.
“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.
“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.
“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.
“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!
“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.
“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.
“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.
“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.
“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?

“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?

Hello 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?

“If 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?

“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?

Hello 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

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: