Category Archives: Bliss

Is Awe Still In You?

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

Hello friend,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Let your inner kid go out to play today,

William

Clinging to Life on Earth

Hello friend,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Live like you mean it,

William

Is Your Job Working You?

Hello friend,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Live a self-approved life,

William

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

Are You a Quitter?

Hello 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

Are You in a Shadow Career?

Hello friend,

An English Literature professor who always believed he would write novels. An assistant to a cutting-edge entrepreneur who, deep down, believes that she would be a brilliant entrepreneur herself, if only she dared. A construction worker whose true calling is to be an architect. These people have one thing in common: shadow careers.

In the pandemonium of raising two little kids in recent years, one of my deepest passions—reading books—has mostly fallen off of my schedule. However, two of the titles I that I have finished—The War of Art and Turning Pro—are from the same author, the brilliant Steven Pressfield. These books are directly addressed to artists of all kinds but very much apply to anyone trying to diligently pursue their true calling. Pressfield says that we pursue a shadow calling when we are frightened of owning our true calling. “That shadow career is a metaphor for our real career,” he writes. “Its shape is similar, its contours feel tantalizingly the same. But a shadow career entails no real risk.”

This idea of the shadow career really struck a chord in my soul as I read. Something was stirring. I knew that I had some internal exploring to do. It was time to shine a light on the work that I have chosen to call my career and see if it really represents my true calling, or if it is a mere metaphor for my “real career” that I don’t yet have. Am I in a shadow career?

I teach Tennis for a living. I have done it full-time for about 12 years. Prior to that, I bounced around in other pursuits that very much interested me but that ultimately did not sustain. In my last life crisis moment—when I dropped out of my Ph.D. program and needed to figure out what was next—I kept asking myself what it was that I have always loved to do that also offered actual jobs. Tennis was my answer. I had taught it for fun here and there prior to that, never considering it an actual career path. But at that life moment, there it was. Something I love that also earns a paycheck—that sounded like the perfect combination.

What I loved about teaching Tennis—indeed, what I still love about it—is that I get to coach. I get a wonderful boost from helping people take steps towards excellence and personal growth. I like delivering both the information and the inspiration. I love the process of figuring out which button needs to be pushed at just the right moment to guide the student to a breakthrough and newfound confidence. Even as a graduate student, my absolute favorite part of the gig was teaching a couple of discussion classes per week with college freshmen. I loved leading them and opening their minds to new ideas. It was a rush. It is still a rush. Another thing I love about coaching Tennis is that I regularly get to share in the best part of someone’s day (or week). I don’t know that many professions that get to say that, so I don’t take it lightly. I also greatly appreciate that I get to share the first great love of my life—Tennis–with others. And I get to contribute to people’s fitness and overall wellness, which is enormously gratifying to me. As I reread this paragraph, I am thinking this definitely sounds like my true calling. Right?

Maybe not. Maybe it is really just a great shadow career. In the months surrounding my 40^th birthday—I’m honestly not sure if it was the milestone birthday bringing it on or just the fascinating, inspirational stuff I was reading at the time—I started to really take stock of my life and wonder what I really wanted to do with the rest of it? Was I really living my calling, or had I missed some signs along the way that were pointing me right to it? I truly believe that our inner voice—our soul or intuition or the still, small voice, whatever you want to call it—is always communicating with us but that we are often either not paying attention to it or are hearing it but willfully choosing to listen to our logic or our senses instead. So I started really listening to that inner voice, started looking for its signs. I noticed when something gave me a big rush or made me feel at home or tingly. I sensed how reading about or talking to some people totally entranced me, how I was envious of their careers or how they were shaping their world. And I owned my longings rather than dismissing them.

It was also around this time that I began what I call “The Journal Project”, which was a thorough review of the nearly 50 journals I have filled in my adult life. The combination of paying closer attention to the inner voice and doing an in-depth life review was totally enlightening when it came to this idea of my true calling. What I found in both sources was a deep desire to be a writer/teacher/speaker/personal growth catalyst. Every time I came across an entry in my journals about feeling called to write, I would get tingly all over my body and my hair would stand on end. The still, small voice was speaking to me. And it spoke so plainly and so frequently that after awhile, I could not ignore it. I knew I needed to begin to move in the direction of my dreams. My first book idea became very clear to me, as did the necessity of starting this blog as soon as possible. I wanted my mission of helping people to know themselves better and to live more authentically and happily to have a vehicle immediately, even if I didn’t directly have a career in it for a while.

So, what does this say about my beloved Tennis career? To me it says that it is a shadow career, a metaphor for my “real” career as a writer/speaker/life coach. It certainly shadows it in many ways: I get to teach and inspire people, to share in their highs and lows while all the time seeking to build their confidence and push them toward growth and excellence. It is a great job for me; it really is. But, as it turns out, it just may not be the job for me.

So, how about YOU? Are you in a shadow career? Open up your journal and write about your career. What drew you to it? Do those same qualities keep you there still? Are you just collecting a check, or is your work fulfilling as well? How much is your career tied into your identity? Most importantly, what do you really want to do? Is your current career a shadow of that dream job, or perhaps not even in the ballpark? Be honest: do you think you will pursue your dream? Why or why not? Are you playing small because it is comfortable and what you know? What if you were meant to play a bigger game?

This topic obviously has a built-in challenge: if you admit you are not doing what you really want, you are forced to justify why not and why you aren’t—right now—about to make a move to change that. Leave me a reply and tell me if you are in a shadow career. I want to know: are you ready to step into your purpose? What’s your next move???

Let your light shine,

William

What Makes You Happy?

Hello friend,

Making snow angels. Running through the sprinkler. Taking photographs. Surfing. Playing “Keep-it-up”. Building a snowman with my kids. Skiing. Visiting my parents and siblings in the house where I grew up. Writing this blog. Holding hands with my wife and kids when we are walking somewhere. Sledding. Yoga. Hiking along a mountain stream. Reading. Snuggling. Just being at my family’s lake cabin. Doing “Steamroller” across the carpet or grass with my kids, just like my Dad used to do with me. Hitting a tennis ball. Flying a kite. Swimming. Tickling my son. Writing in my journal. Having a dinner date with just my wife and talking about our hopes and dreams. Ice skating. Paddling my kayak on a quiet lake. Swaying in my hammock. Working on my book. Sitting by the ocean. Learning something new. Teaching.

These are my happiest moments. These are the activities that bring me the most unbridled, unadulterated joy. These are the things I am willing to take time out of a busy schedule for, because I deem them to be “Good for the soul”. They make me feel pure and centered and serene and light and alive and joyful. They just feel right in every part of my being.

I got to thinking about these activities and the feelings they produce in me. Does the mere doing of them—and the frequency with which I do at least one of the items on the list—dictate my level of happiness? I tend to think of myself as the happiest person that I know. I could be wrong about that, but I think it nonetheless. In any case, I am happy and don’t want to trade places with anyone. But is it all about the snow angels and the Steamroller? Is that enough to explain my happiness?

I decided that what those activities do for me is necessary but not sufficient to justify my happiness. That is, I need them, but there is more to it. They certainly produce Joy, Peace, and Love, which, I think, are kind of a deal-breaker trio when it comes to living happily. But what else does it take? Is there a short list or equation that can actually explain not just joyful moments, but true, deep, ongoing HAPPINESS?

I checked it out. One of the most commonly quoted happiness recipes (attributed to a variety of sources) is: 1) Someone to love, 2) Something to do, and 3) Something to hope for. That sounded pretty good. The philosopher John Locke went simple with, “A sound mind in a sound body.” He is onto something there, I thought, if you expound on the “sound mind” part. Aristotle said, “Happiness is a state of activity.” That didn’t do it for me at all. Mohandas Gandhi, who is on the short list of my all-time heroes, said, “Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony.” I liked that one, too, but I still wasn’t sure I had it yet. So, I went with one of my other all-timers: my wife. At lunch today, I asked her what she thought the short list of happiness components should be. After a moment of thought, she came up with: 1) Contentedness, 2) Self-assuredness, and 3) Peace. That is a solid recipe (I think I’ll keep her on my all-time hero list!).

With those wise folks as my jumping off point, I decided to take a crack at a simple recipe of my own Happiness Stew. Here is what I came up with:

As a base, pour in one gallon of Authenticity (a la Gandhi): living your Truth
Fold in four cups of the Connectedness of your choice:, To a Divine Source, To family, To friends, To everything (whether you feel that is Divine or not)
Blend well with an atmosphere of Progress/Growth by continually learning and stretching your limits
Garnish with as many “Good for the soul” activities as you can swallow

Enjoy! (That should actually be part of the recipe, too.)

Now, what is your recipe for happiness? Get out your journal, and go for it! There is no single right answer that applies to everyone, so you have to look deep into yourself to find your unique recipe. Is it a mix of the ones I mentioned, or none of the above? Is it way more complicated than I am making it sound? While you’re at it, process this quote from Abraham Lincoln: “Most people are about as happy as they make up their minds to be.” If he is right, you have an awesome responsibility on your hands! Finally, make out your own list of “Good for the soul” activities, the things that make you feel happy at your core. I would love to hear what you come up with, so leave a reply and get the conversation started. Trust me, just making the list will put a huge smile on your face. I guarantee it will be worth your time. What are you waiting for?

Be happily you,

William

Do you need a Timeout?

Hello Friend,

This morning at the breakfast table, my wife said to me, “What do you think of this? You could take one year away from here–you have to move to a different city—and work on your stuff. You would have time to finish your book, and who knows how long that will take with your normal schedule around here? It is a year just for you and your work. And it is a fellowship, so you will not be losing money to do it. It could set you up for the future. Are you up for it?”

She sold it so convincingly that I half-thought she had actually lined this up for me. A total timeout from the rigors of my normal life to devote all of my time to an important pursuit that I otherwise have to sneak in at random and fleeting moments (when I am typically exhausted). Imagine that! I would be like a TV show in Summer: “”William’s World” is on hiatus. He will return in the Fall, right where he left off.” For a whole year!

What could I accomplish in a year? I was salivating at the thought. I am a guy who always has an endless and ever-growing To-Do List when it comes to things I want to learn and do in my life. The idea of being bored for a single moment is totally inconceivable to me. I arrive at the end of every day wishing it were twice as long. So, when she put the offer of a whole year on the table for me and suggested that I could write my book in that period, I took that as a challenge. Surely I could finish the first one and get the second one started. Of course, I would have to keep the blog going, too, and yes, those books I have been needing to read to get myself better equipped to write the books and blogs. Maybe I would even take a couple of minutes at the end of each day and learn the guitar (I got a guitar for Christmas this year, not because I expected to make time to learn it this year, but rather because it is a bucket-list item for me that I will get to someday, and I want to be equipped when a “free” moment appears). There are a million other items on the list, but those would have to wait; this year would be all serious business.

So, with all of those thoughts racing through my head in the few seconds that it took for her to finish explaining the opportunity, what was my response? “No way. Not a chance.” What??? How could a guy who spends each day begging for more time pass up an opportunity like this? It is a one-year timeout: who gets that opportunity?!? And, more importantly, who gets that opportunity and declines? I do, without a second thought.

You see, in spite of my deep passion for everything I would use that year for, I have something that trumps everything every time. I have two little children. Since the day my daughter was born 5 ½ years ago, I have basically eliminated any non-essential activities in my life. I changed my job so I could spend more time with her (and later her brother). Hobbies and social life went out the window. I allow myself writing time and exercise, but only when it doesn’t keep me away from them. I don’t take trips without them, and I don’t get babysitters. It is a bit extreme, I know, but the time with them is that important to me. And, since 5 ½ years has gone by in a blink, I recognize how fleeting my time is with them. Being their Daddy is the coolest thing I know—by miles and miles–so I can comfortably pass on the other things I always loved to do. It is also why I can pass on the free year. It would be an amazing year, no doubt, but not in the same ballpark as any year with them. That is just how it is with me.

BUT……..ask me again in 15 years! Then I will probably take you up on the offer and apply for a second year when the first is finished. It is all in the life context. In theory, the timeout year sounds fabulous. I am taking my deferral of it as a sign that I have a pretty darn good gig going right here and now, even as I am well aware of the dreams that gnaw at me daily and could be addressed in that year.

So, how about you? Are you ready for a timeout? Get out your journal and ask yourself: Would you take that year right now if offered? If you couldn’t do a whole year, how much time could you take? What would stop you from taking it or limiting your time? Then, what would you do with it? How would you spend your time and what would that set you up to be and do? How do you see your life differently at the end of your timeout? Are you just less stressed, or has a whole new world opened up for you?

Explore all of these questions in your journal. Believe me, you will go much deeper by writing them out than by simply giving a quick answer to each as you read. Enjoy the process, and let your mind go wherever it leads you. Dive deep! Then, leave a reply with the link above. Tell me about your timeout.

Be your beautiful self today,

William

The Stories We Tell Ourselves

Hello Friend,

Last week I wrote to you about following your Bliss. Your Bliss is that thing that you feel called to do, that lights you up inside and just simply feels right. For me, this very act of writing to you and helping you explore your Bliss is the way I follow mine. I feel called to it, and I am invigorated every time I sit down to write to you. I asked you to open your journal and write out some thoughts on what your Bliss is, and, as usual, I hoped that you would share some of your thoughts with us in order to get the conversation started, to build a community among not just you and I, but with the other readers as well.

A reader named Alex responded with, “I’d love to follow my ‘bliss’ but I’m busy paying the bills. Bliss is for rich people!!!!!!” That is a lot of exclamation points! I sincerely hope that Alex took the time to explore his Bliss before coming to the conclusion that it was impossible for him. But his response—or some version of it– was, I believe, shared by many other readers of the post. Asking someone about their dream life invites vulnerability, and opening up about our calling, our Bliss, certainly carries with it a personal challenge. Inevitably, when we admit to what we believe we should be doing, we become bombarded with the recurring thought, “Why aren’t I following my calling? Why aren’t I living my dreams?” That is a personal challenge, and it can feel like an attack on our character. After all, we grew up hearing, “You can be whatever you set your mind to. If you can dream it, you can do it!” If you believe that, and then you take me up on my challenge to uncover your Bliss, you are set up with the idea that you are capable of living your dreams, fulfilling your calling. Sounds great, right?

Well, for most of us, the inevitable next step is to take a good long look in the mirror and realize that we are NOT following our Bliss, NOT living our dreams, NOT sticking our necks out in search of progress toward those ideals. Most of us, if we are honest, have chosen to walk on what feels like the safer path. To admit this does not feel so good. It feels weak. It feels small. It feels cowardly. So, we begin to tell ourselves stories to justify our current path, to justify why we can’t have what our soul is shouting out that it wants, why it is not realistic to do what really blows our hair back.

These stories are called limiting beliefs. They usually take the form of “I am too ___________” or “I am not _____________ enough.” You get to fill in the blanks with whatever convinces you best. I am too old. Too young. Too busy. Too poor. Too fat. Too thin. Too qualified. Too tired. Too shy. I’m not educated enough. Not spiritual enough. Not courageous enough. Not connected enough. Not experienced enough. Not smart enough. Not rich enough. Not beautiful enough. And on and on and on. We tell ourselves these stories so convincingly and so often that we come to believe them to be true. They become our narrative, and we lean on them like a sturdy crutch. We take comfort in them like an opiate. They stem our ambition. They quiet the voice of our soul. They keep us playing small.

For me, I empathize with Alex. His answer boiled down to “I’m too busy to follow my Bliss. I’m not rich enough to live my calling.” These two limiting beliefs have been my most convincing stories in recent years. I have two little kids and bills to pay. I have leaned on that story—leaned HARD—in the service of keeping me from writing a book, starting this blog, and doing more formalized training to be a better teacher. And believe me, these are things that I can feel in the deepest, most honest parts of me that I need to do. My soul demands it! But I haven’t. That is how strong limiting beliefs are. They can squash your calling, silence your soul, and keep you sleep-walking the safe path through life. They are as lethal to your dreams as they are convincing to your brain.

So, what are your limiting beliefs? What stories do you tell to justify why you don’t follow your Bliss, why you don’t heed your soul’s calling? Get out your instrument of choice—pen, keyboard, whatever—and write it out. Make a “I am too______” list and a “I am not _________ enough” list, and go from there. Flesh out what your most convincing stories are. Don’t beat yourself up and make yourself wrong for having the stories. For now, it is enough just to name them, to own them as uniquely yours. In the long run, it is very difficult to move beyond these stories if we do not first unveil them. If you are willing, I would love you to leave a reply. Tell me, what are the stories you tell?

Be well & be honest,

William

What is your Bliss?

Hello friend,

“Follow your Bliss.” This was the concluding advice of the brilliant Joseph Campbell, a student of all of the world’s spiritual traditions. These three words mean so much to me that I put them on my holiday card every year, right next to the pictures of my kids. Follow your Bliss.

What does it even mean, though, your “Bliss”? For me, it means that thing that lights you up inside just thinking about it, that thing that you feel called to do from a place deep within you. It is the thing that you can stay up all night doing or reading about because of the adrenaline rush that it gives you. Can you think of the last time you met someone—or read an article about or saw on television or whatever—and were absolutely captivated by their profession or hobby? You went away thinking, “She’s got the best gig in the world. I would give anything to do that every day.” Can you remember what you were doing in the moments of your life when you felt the most happy, most connected, most alive? Ever thought about what you would do if you had only two years to live? Or, try it this way: if every job in the world paid the same amount, which one would you choose? Your answers to these thought experiments are pointing you in the direction of your Bliss.

When I was writing my first blog post a couple of nights ago, the adrenaline rush I felt was absolutely amazing, better than any drug I could imagine. Even as I spent the previous week setting up the website—and believe me, I am awful at that kind of thing and am in no way called to work at The Apple Store—I was so thrilled to be building this thing that was going to help me put out my message and lead people to know themselves better and love themselves more. Even as I type these words now—and it is well past my bedtime—I am so energized by the idea of sharing them with you and the thought that you might use them as inspiration to write a journal page that will help you see yourself more clearly. The sheer exhilaration I feel in writing and teaching indicates to me that I am, indeed, following my Bliss. If I had two years to live, I would surely choose to write to you in hopes of helping you live a better life. The interviews with writers and life coaches are the ones that captivate me most. When I imagine myself writing blogs and books, giving inspirational speeches in auditoriums full of eager listeners, conducting workshops for small groups, and coaching individuals to greater happiness and fulfillment, I tingle all over. That tingle is communication from my soul. It is the still, small voice inside me that is my most authentic guide to fulfillment. I haven’t always done the best job listening to it and letting its message get through, but it has never stopped trying. I am listening to it right now. The tingle tells me so. I love that tingle!

So, what makes you tingle? What lights you up? What would you do for free if you could afford it? What is your Bliss? Right now get out your pen and journal or open up a Word document on your computer; it is time to start writing. You don’t have to pick just one answer, and don’t judge. Just write. And then share. Hit the “Leave a reply” link above and tell me about your Bliss. Let’s get the conversation going. I can’t wait to hear from you.

Be happy & write often,

William

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