Category Archives: Family

Embracing Your Weirdness: The Quirks That Make You YOU

“I think what people call ‘weird’ comes part and parcel with people who are brilliant in some way. So embrace your weird. Embrace your eccentricity.” –Eileen Anglin

Hello friend,

As a sports fan, I am no stranger to the unique tics and superstitious rituals of the athletes. Michael Jordan spun the ball in his hands, dribbled, and spun it again before every free throw. Rafael Nadal tugs on his shirt, tucks his hair behind his ears, and picks his undies out of his rear end before every point. Every. Single. One. Athletes are taught that. It helps them to calm and focus their minds. In my own tennis-playing days, I had my pattern of ball-bouncing before serves. It was intentional, and I left it on the court. Outside of that, I spent my youth like everyone else: just trying to seem normal. It’s amazing how much time and energy is wasted on that awful endeavor! Normal!!!

I really thought I was, too. I couldn’t think of a single thing that made me seem unusual or interesting in any way, good or bad. No weird habits. No superstitions. No irrational thoughts I was hiding. Nothing for anyone to look sideways at me about. No unusual demands to make of the people in my life. No hang-ups. I was easy. I blended in. Vanilla. I guess I thought that was a good thing.

I suppose I look at the “characters” of the world as a lot of work to be around, always requiring some special conditions to be created by the rest of us just for their needs. High maintenance.

My parents have become increasingly obsessed with neatness as they have aged, my old man occasionally going so far as to follow his kids and grandkids around his kitchen with a Swiffer when we visit for Christmas (interestingly, one of my cousins told me that my Dad’s brother has become the same way). On a fascinating parallel, when visiting my parents recently, I feared for my germaphobic wife’s sanity when she saw my mother defrosting a chicken by holding it in the middle of her spotless sink and spraying it with water, drops of Salmonella flying all over the countertops and floor (amazingly, my wife swallowed her tongue until my Mom left the room, then quickly sanitized the area—whew!). I have always laughed at the memory of my great-uncle insisting that there be cookies available after supper, and how he could not believe the gall of some restaurants not having cookies on the dessert menu. Speaking of menus, my sister never orders anything the way a restaurant offers it, always making multiple changes to each item.

Weird people, right? You know, Them.  

Not me. Never me.

Well…maybe there are just a few things I’ve added over the years since my youthful blandness…..

I can’t sleep without several pillows placed strategically around me. Currently I have six—two of them king-sized—each filling a role I consider vital to a good night’s rest.

Speaking of rest, do NOT touch me when I am sleeping or attempting to sleep! I will come to full alertness immediately. If you have snuggling to do, get it done before it is time to think about sleep.

I also need to go to bed clean. Very clean. If I have perspired even a drop since my last one, I must shower again. I will not be stinky!

Okay, just one more about sleeping. I cannot wear clothes to bed. Too constricting.

That one speaks to a lot of my physical and mental preferences, actually. I cannot be contained. I get anxious when I feel restricted. So, I sleep naked. When I wear clothing, I like it to be loose and comfortable. Yes to sweatpants, no to neckties. It’s also why I don’t like to work for other people or to have a lot of rules around me. I repeat: I cannot be contained!

I think that is also why I only like to sit in certain seats at a table or be in certain areas of a room. Some spots—usually in a corner and with no one behind me—just feel better to me. I don’t like to feel surrounded.

I need silence during movies. TOTAL silence.

I am very particular about the pens and pencils I will write with. I ask for certain pens every year for Christmas, and dull wooden pencils make me cringe. Mechanical, 0.5mm lead, thick shaft with rubber grip. Thank you.

I strongly dislike tattoos. But then, I was the kid in school who would never allow you to even write a note on my palm. I do not like things on my skin. I don’t even like it when my kids put stickers on my clothes.

Maybe that is why I don’t like outward displays of group membership or position. I hated the idea of wearing a letterman’s jacket in school, I will not buy a jersey to show support for my favorite team, and I don’t like political signs in the yard (though I am softening on that last one as the times become more troubling).

Frankly, I am not much for group joining at all. I don’t know. Maybe it is my innate aversion to small-talk—it makes me feel gross—but I have become terrible about entering larger social settings as I have aged. I love an intimate, revealing conversation and would probably appreciate making more friends, but I otherwise don’t feel much inclination to socialize in groups.

Maybe the small-talk thing is related to one of my other quirks: I resent anything—anything—that feels like a waste of my time. I have become super-sensitive to this, and the alarm bells go off immediately when something is keeping me from a bigger priority. I get tense. Tense and resentful.

I’m a grammar/verbiage snob. I won’t necessarily correct you, but I will badly want to.

Did I say “just a few”? Well, look at that!

It’s funny, I think most of these eccentricities have intensified as I have aged. I don’t know that it is about getting older, though. My sense is that it is more about having a better understanding—thanks to my journal–of what works for me and what doesn’t. I have more of an opinion about myself and am not as willing to compromise that as I was when I was young and just trying to be “normal”.   I think that comes from being more in tune with my intuition, trusting my gut to know which situations make my heart sing and which don’t serve me at all.

So, I am weirder now than I was before. Higher maintenance, too. I have those idiosyncrasies that make people look sideways at me or whisper behind my back.

But you know what? My heart sings a lot more now, too. I am happier. I know who I am. And I like that guy. Quirks and all.

How about you? What are your idiosyncrasies? Open up your journal and your interesting soul. What personality quirks and habits make you question your normalcy? How unusual are they? How much effort do you put into hiding your eccentricities or minimizing them in order to appear “normal”? Which are you most self-conscious about? Are there any that you find particularly destructive to your relationships? Are any dangerous? Which ones could you not control even if you tried? Which ones are awesome, even if a little weird? How have your quirks changed over the years? Are there more of them now? Are they more pronounced? Harder to control or hide? How much of a pass do you give your loved ones for their idiosyncrasies? Do you give yourself that same leeway? Is it a waste of your time and effort to hide these quirks? How different would it be if you embraced them completely? What step can you take today to be more unapologetically authentic? I dare you! Leave me a reply and let me know, How will you stake a claim to your weirdness?

All of you is beautiful,

William

P.S. If this helped you see yourself differently or helped to give yourself a break today, please share it. Encourage authenticity!

What’s Your Sign? Horoscopes, Zodiac, & Other Random Nonsense

“The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.” –William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar

Hello friend,

I am 44 years old, and right up until this week, I didn’t know who I was. Imagine that: the guy who writes to you every week about improving your self-awareness had no clue about himself! For all of my high-minded prodding to uncover your purpose, to explore your strengths and weaknesses, to march to the beat of your own drummer, and to live your Truth, all along I was just flying blind. Clueless.

Until now.

Now I know.

I know my strengths and weaknesses. I know what kind of career I would excel at. I know how all my relationships will unfold and what has doomed my previous ones. I know who to stay away from and who to get closer to. I even know what my main challenges and breakthroughs will be for today, and even for this week, month, and year. I pretty much have all of the answers figured out now for this little game called LIFE. It should be a walk in the park from here one out.

I guess I was just too stubborn all these years, thinking I would have to carve out my own path through LIFE. I took all of those old adages like “March to the beat of your own drummer” and “Be true to yourself” to heart and figured that since there was only one of me, faith in my heart and mind as my internal compass would have to suffice to carry me through this uncertain world. My intuition would guide me, helping me make the difficult decisions as they arose. I would be unique, and my path would be beautifully my own.

What a fool I was!

I even knew that everyone else was getting the answers to the test for free. They were there all along and I simply refused to acknowledge them, trusting my instincts to get me to my destination instead of using the free map that everyone else was peeking at. It was there everyday in the newspaper.

The Horoscope.

For as long as I can remember, I have been totally repelled by horoscopes and all things Astrology. I saw them there in my local newspaper as a kid and in the magazines. I understood the idea of them—and I even heard from someone that I am a Libra—but I could never quite bring myself to read them. I cannot explain it, because I have always been a curious guy. Maybe the young Catholic in me sensed something forbidden in it, as though merely dabbling in the stars was akin to Devil worship. Maybe the radar in my naturally logical, analytical mind sounded loudly in the presence something so seemingly fanciful. Whatever it was, something in me just wouldn’t go there.

Interestingly (at least to me), I have always wanted to visit a highly-regarded psychic to get a personal reading. Maybe I would think it was hogwash afterward—depending on how much I wanted to agree with what the person said about my future—but I am very open to it in theory. Horoscope stuff, though? Somehow, just no. Never.

But hey, let’s face it: I have been working hard at finding my own way through this Universe for a long time, and it doesn’t feel like I am very far along. I have big stuff I want to accomplish, and frankly, at this point I could use all the help I can get. What’s the old Thomas Jefferson quote? “If you want something you’ve never had, you must be willing to do something you’ve never done.” Something like that. Anyway, I am overdue to try something new. Horoscope, anyone?

Trying to be open-minded but admittedly cringing a little bit inside, I have spent the last few days as a student of Astrology, scouring the many Internet sites to learn about the twelve signs and how they interact. I certainly am no expert yet, but I have an understanding about my own sign, Libra, and the signs of my family members. I figure I know just enough to decide whether knowing it is going to help me or not.

So what about my Libra self?

Well, for starters, Libra is one of the three “Air” signs—along with Gemini and Aquarius–which means I am generally very social and rational. The 25% of us Air folks would be thought of as thinkers and talkers.

As for the Libra in me specifically, I like things to be fair and harmonious. I can’t stand injustice or cheating of any sort, and my reactions to unfairness might be taken so far to be socially inappropriate. But that is the only time I am unhappy: when I feel like I have been wronged. I like the outdoors and trying new things. I like sharing with people, and I make decisions that benefit the most people, even if it means sacrificing my own benefit. I cannot stand to be alone and must do everything in a partnership or team alliance. I don’t like to be in charge of my team, but I do want my voice to be heard. I have a very sharp mind and get absorbed and inspired by good books and deep conversations with fascinating people. I am gracious and diplomatic, avoiding confrontations, including violence, at almost all costs. And yet, I dislike conformity. I love beautiful things and surround myself with them. I am a hopeless romantic. I tend toward self-pity, can be superficial, and I hold grudges. But my biggest failing is my indecisiveness. This can come off as laziness or absent-mindedness, but it really comes from me weighing all things carefully to achieve balance. In any case, I am very wishy-washy.

As for my current Libra world, the horoscope has told me a few different things this week. Apparently, I have a lot of work to do and should stop resisting change. I have to trim my friend list and do lots of other work on my relationships (because I am so social, remember?). On Thursday, a good friend was supposed to surprise me and teach me a lesson, and I needed more focused energy to get my stuff done. On Friday, I was to have some good career ideas that wouldn’t help my relationships, and I was going to share “TMI” in a social situation (which was a problem on Wednesday, too, believe it or not). I have a lot of relationship stuff happening!

But that’s just how it is for us Libra people. You know us: me, Gandhi, Vladimir, Putin, Snoop Dogg, Kim Kardashian, John Lennon, Jimmy Carter, and Bruno Mars. We can’t help ourselves. The stars made us do it!

Okay, seriously, how accurate was it? How well did Astrology nail my essence? Am I a classic Libra? Did the horoscope ring true with my week?

Not so much. 

Well, to be fair, I thought some of it hit the nail on the head. I really am highly sensitive about issues of injustice, including injustice done to me (for which I do hold grudges!). I do like the outdoors and trying new things. My mind is pretty sharp and inspired by deep-thinking books and people. I am nonviolent and dislike conformity. Those are all very Libra-like. I started thinking that those astrologists might be onto something!

Unfortunately, other Libra characteristics were so very unlike me that my excitement soon waned. The biggest bust was one of the most important Libra traits: their social butterfly personality and distaste for being alone. That could not be further from me! The other major Libra trait that missed was the indecisiveness. I am very clear about what works for me. Several smaller traitscc didn’t seem to fit, either.

Then there were the horoscope predictions. That stuff didn’t resonate with me at all! On a few things, I was like, “Maaaaaybe I could see that.” But mostly, it was, “Hmmmm…… No!”

I perused the zodiac signs of my wife, kids, and parents, too, just to see if perhaps I was an aberration (as I seem to be in many aspects of my world!). My wife’s Taurus description came the closest, though even that one was hit-or-miss with the traits. My children, who are quite different from one another, have the same sign—you know, like me and Kim Kardashian–so I was left to scratch my head there, too.

I checked the other signs as well, just to make sure I hadn’t been misplaced at birth (as has long been rumored in my height-challenged family). I thought that Scorpio or Pisces were probably the best fit, then maybe Gemini, with a bit of Sagittarius and Virgo. But none of them produced the “A-Ha! THAT is me!” reaction I was hoping for.

All in all, I would have to give this experiment a FAIL. I am glad I did it, because it is good to know things. But, I suppose I was right all along in trusting my gut and staying far away from the Horoscope section of the newspaper. I always did have good intuition. Like a true Libra!

Oh, wait, no. Sorry, that’s a Pisces. Moving on!

How about you? How closely do you fit your astrological sign? Open up your journal and your horoscope. What do the stars say about you? Start with your Zodiac sign. Who does it say you are supposed to be? How accurately does that describe you? Which of the sign’s characteristics are a perfect match for you? Does that give you confidence that Astrology might have some answers for you? Which of your sign’s characteristics don’t sound like you at all? What does that tell you? On the whole, does the list of traits for your sign have more that match your personality or more that don’t? How confident are you in Astrology’s ability to be helpful to you? Does it make you immediately suspicious when something tries to pin down the 7 billion people in the world into only twelve different personality groupings? How long have you known about your sign? Do you check in on your daily or weekly horoscope readings? How accurate do they seem to be? Do you think that they make them so vague and general that each one could be a fit for just about anybody? Have you ever sought guidance for a particular question or problem from an astrologer or from your horoscope in a newspaper, magazine, or online? Was it helpful? Have you used the signs to find a love match (it says that my wife and I are a bad match, and my parents, too)? How did that go? Sum it up for me: how much stock do you put in this stuff? Is it a random pool of nonsense and gobbledygook, or is there really something here? Leave me a reply and let me know: Do you believe what the stars tell you?  

Believe in yourself,

William

P.S. If you enjoyed today’s interstellar journey, pass it along. Let’s fly together!

All I Got From My Vacation Was…..

“Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we will find it not.” –Ralph Waldo Emerson

Hello friend,

I am having a hard time mustering up the drive to write to you today. My family and I just got back from a week of vacation, and my mind is still floating in that lazy haze of sand and sunshine. In many ways, I have not quite returned yet. I haven’t admitted to myself that it is time for “real life” again (whatever that even means). However, despite my stubborn denial, I know that tomorrow will find me back to the usual Monday routine. So, while I still have a last hazy moment to cling to, I feel the need to put a little bow on my week of escape.

I have been drifting blissfully in the moment for seven days, not working too hard to process the state of my life as a whole or even the state of those vacation days. My journal entries from those days show few deep thoughts and breakthroughs, few philosophical dissertations, and few great lessons and takeaways from each of those days. Mostly it shows a mind floating in easy-breezy vacation nothingness.

But it was NOT nothing! It had to be something! If it was nothing, I would not be still feeling both hazy and deeply sentimental a few days later. I would not have been near tears as I made a slide show of my trip photos yesterday. No, it was definitely something. I just have been too woozy to nail down exactly what that something was.

Right from the first night, when my Dad drove us straight from the airport to the beach just before sunset, my vacation was a reminder. It was a reminder that I am at home on the water. More specifically, I am at home IN the water. Despite a cool evening breeze and no towels to dry with, I could not resist diving right into to the chilly saltwater, hooting and whooping in delight as I rode a few waves right up onto the sand and tossed my excited kids into the surf. That water entered my soul that night and stayed all week, reminding me how organic it is to my very being. In that reminder, I also felt how tragic it had been that I had neglected that aspect of my soul for so many years, but I chose to let that regret go and simply bask in the overwhelming sense of Joy and Peace that can only be felt when one has returned Home. The water is certainly my spiritual Home. What a blissful reminder!

My vacation also reminded me of something critical to my purpose in life: to expose my children to as much of this world as I can. I try to remember this in my daily life. I read them books and show them videos of people doing brave and interesting things. I encourage them to try different sports and activities. I tell them stories about my childhood and the things I have done in my life. I ask their teachers to challenge their limits. I try to model curiosity, open-mindedness, and a love of books.   These are good things, I know.

But this trip reminded me that there is nothing quite like an adventure when it comes to broadening your horizons. Having a manatee swim by you as you are playing in the ocean, racing barefoot on a golf course at night, boating through canals full of homes worth 20 and 30 million dollars each, flying on an airplane for the first time, walking the beach with your Grandma collecting seashells. These are things that require an adventure. I was tickled every time I saw my kids’ eyes light up with the newness and wonder of Life beyond their usual borders. My eyes were glowing, too!

My vacation also reminded me of the fleeting nature of these chances to do life this way with these people. The childhoods of my kids, now 6 and 8, are flying by. Up until a few years ago, they were thrilled every time a friend of mine—whom they call “Uncle”–came over to play. He made them giggle to no end and happily joined us for things like sledding and birthday cake. Then he moved away, and no one has replaced him. On our vacation, they got to see him again, and it was like they didn’t miss a beat. Magic! But those years pass in a blink, and it is so easy to miss these things. Not just for the kids, but for me, too.

After a blissful vacation week with my parents, they dropped us off at the airport to go home. We said a quick goodbye at the curb and lugged our stuff inside. As the sliding doors closed behind us, I turned and looked back as my Mom and Dad each closed their car door and drove off. They didn’t see me as I watched them disappear. Already feeling sentimental from saying goodbye, I suddenly had the very sad realization that there may not be so many more adventures and goodbyes with them. Of course, any of us could fall ill or die at any point, but the odds change as you get to their age. I don’t know if it was the cumulative result of a week’s time with them, talking of my uncle’s recent death and the health issues of other of their friends and family members, but for some reason, seeing them drive away made me so grateful and sad. It can’t be forever, I thought, but it can be now. Cherish it. Cherish them.

And that reminded me of my last big takeaway from my vacation, something I kept noticing in passing during the week but never quite solidifying in my mind or noting in my hazy journal entries. The reminder: It’s never too late.

In recent years, I hardly ever see my parents unless there is a big crowd of their children and grandchildren gathered together in one of their houses. In that chaotic atmosphere, my old man tends to play the role of the crotchety, distant guy who might grouse about how messy you are making his house or give you a little teasing but never gets very lovey or just hangs out with you and gets to know you. His kids (and some of his grandkids) all know he is a great, big-hearted guy underneath that prickly veneer, so we let it slide and love him for what is true. My kids, though, because of the crowded and infrequent visits, have never gotten to that point with him. My son has enjoyed trading tickles and barbs a few times and never minds a little ribbing, so they have been fine but never close. My daughter, though, is more about gentle, deep, and intimate relationships and thus never seemed to bond with her grandfather. When I would remind her to give him a hug, it always seemed forced, almost scared in its distance. I always lamented that. And I figured that would be how it remained.

Imagine my delight, then, when I saw him, on our first night, walking side-by-side with my son like old friends. Or the next day, when I saw him voluntarily give my daughter a little hug and call her “Honey” in conversation. Or, at the end of the week, as I watched the three of them—my old man, my daughter, and my son—walk off together down the beach, no hesitation and no questions asked. There was genuine affection there. A bond had formed. It was totally cool. Priceless, really. If he should happen to leave us soon, their lasting feelings and memories of him will be completely different than they were before this week. That right there made the whole trip worthwhile.

But the rest was alright, too, I guess. I think I will try this vacation thing again someday!

How about you? What were your takeaways from your last vacation? Open up your journal and your memory and take a trip. What was your last real getaway? How big was it in your life? How long had you daydreamed about it? Was it more about action (e.g. a ski trip) or pure relaxation (e.g. the beach)? Who was with you? What did the vacation do for your relationships with your companions? Did it completely change any of them? For the better or worse? Did it change the way you relate to the people who weren’t on the trip? Did it recharge your battery? Did you have any big “A-Ha!” moments, when something important struck you? I find that whenever I travel—whether it is because of all the time in the car or sitting in the airport or on the beach or whatever—I usually end up doing a lot of soul-searching. How about you? How well are you able to leave your regular life behind and just be on vacation? Do you think that makes it easier to put your regular life in perspective? Is that a big part of what vacation is all about? Leave me a reply and let me know: What did your last vacation do for you?

Roll the windows down,

William

P.S. If this resonated with you, please share it. Let’s stir each other up!

Progress Check: Your 3-Month Report Card

“It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters, in the end.” –Ursula K. Le Guin, The Left Hand of Darkness

Hello friend,

My kids brought their report cards home this week. I always get excited to rip open that envelope and see what their teachers think of the last few months of their time in school. Have they improved or regressed? Met expectations or exceeded them? How well are they learning, and how well are they behaving? Are there any red flags? Is there cause for a celebration?

As first and third graders, my kids are not the least bit interested in their report cards. Still, I like to sit down for a minute with each of them and do a quick review of their teachers’ assessments. I get to remind them of our values and tell them how proud I am of them. It is time well spent.

As I finished hugging them and basking in my fatherly pride, it hit me that I was about due for my own progress check. After all, it was almost three months ago that I sat down at the precipice of the New Year and, full of fear and uncertainty, wrote “Next Year In Review” to get my mind focused and ready for action.

We are almost a quarter of the way through the year already, and I can already feel how fast it is zipping by. I cannot wait until December to look up again and make sure I am on the right track. If I do, I know that I will have let busy-ness overwhelm me and let my priorities slip through my grasp as I juggle the rest of my circumstances. That year-end check-in will be all frustration and disappointment if I don’t get clear right now.

I need a report card.

Thinking about myself three months ago—picturing both how I wanted to BE and what I wanted to DO—what I remember most is that I wanted to feel BRAVE. I knew I had a lot of challenges to face and that Fear would threaten to paralyze me, but I wanted to respond to that Fear with Courage. I wanted to be BRAVE.

My biggest tasks for this first quarter of the year have revolved around my wannabe writing career. I knew going in that if I was going to feel at all good about myself and my progress, I would need to make some serious strides in the direction of completed projects and paying work.

My biggest goal was to finish my book. I am so pleased—and relieved—to report that I can check that off the list. The next goal was to learn how to pitch a book to agents and publishers, and then, of course, to actually do that. It turns out that that part can be nearly as time-consuming as writing the book itself! Still, I am happy to say that I have learned a ton and have started the process. I don’t have any takers yet and have no idea when or how this book will be published, but I know I am on the right path and that I have put in the hard yards to get this far. Despite my lack of tangible success, I am actually going to score myself pretty well on this front. That feels good!

Beyond the book, my other writing goals have revolved around learning about the other ways writers pay their bills with their craft and which of those avenues might work for me. This one is definitely still giving me fits of terror and uncertainty, but I am learning and am not giving up. Score: Incomplete.

As a guy who sets high standards for himself and is easily disappointed, this is actually one of the best progress reports I have ever given myself when it comes to working hard enough to make my dreams happen. I guess I think that I am usually failing completely, so anything above that is a step in the right direction.

There is more to life than just a dream job, though, right? These past few months I have also tried to keep tabs on myself in a few other areas that affect my overall wellness.

Historically, I never have doubts about how much time I am spending with my children and how high the quality of that time is. This quarter, however, I have tried to be particularly aware of that time. I worried that because of the intensity of my focus on all of this writing stuff—stuff that has me feeling uncertain and sometimes unworthy—that I might let those feelings bubble over into my interactions with the kids in the form of distraction or impatience. I have definitely felt those inclinations and caught myself a few times, and that has made me all the more grateful that I am paying attention to it. I will keep at it. They are worthy of my best in every single moment.

I have also tried to be more mindful of my eating these last few months. I am particularly focused on my nemesis, sugar, but also on the overall amount of food I am consuming each day and at what time. It seems to have helped on most days. Even though Girl Scout Cookie season was rough, I have many times caught myself wanting a snack but instead deciding on the sugarless gum in the cupboard nearby. I am trying to make friends with that gum and my water bottle. While it hasn’t helped me lose any weight, it seems to have temporarily halted the gaining. And I feel better. Little victories.

My final challenge for the first quarter has been to limit my time on both the news and social media. I have been up and down with this as well, but I think my general disgust with the news has helped me to cut down on my time on both. I am more aware now of when I am on social media and what I am looking for instead of just mindlessly scrolling and later realizing what a waste of time it was. It’s a work in progress. As John Mayer sings, “I’m in repair. I’m not together, but I’m getting there.”  

That line might sum up my first quarter progress report across the board. I have made some good strides, but I have certainly had my stumbles and setbacks, my moments when fear or weakness have gotten the best of me. But I think that my awareness has improved. I know every day what I am working toward, and that makes it easier to catch myself slipping and get right back on my feet and on the right track. If I can continue to iPmprove on that awareness in the next quarter, I’ll be well on my way to an amazing year. I’m getting there!

How about you? How well did you do with your first three months of the year? Open up your journal and give yourself some grades. What were your biggest priorities and tasks for the quarter? Take them one by one. What was your biggest rock? On the whole, how would you score yourself with that one? Were you like me and had periods where you were good and periods where you fell off? What dictated your worst periods with it? Fear? Distraction? Lack of confidence? Wavering priorities? What got you back on track? How consistently aware are you of your goals and how well your actions align with them? Do you think awareness of them—keeping your priorities on your mind—is the key to scoring well on the progress report? What else works? Will you keep your big items the same for the next quarter? How about the small items? What will you add? Does the act of making this progress report make it more likely you will improve next quarter? Are you satisfied with your efforts for the first three months of the year? Leave me a reply and let me know: How do you grade your year so far?

Keep shining,

William

P.S. If this was a good check-in for you, please share it. Let’s make it an amazing year!

What’s the Difference Between You and Everybody Else?

“To be oneself, simply oneself, is so amazing and utterly unique an experience that it’s hard to convince oneself so singular a thing happens to everybody.” –Simone de Beauvoir, Prime of Life

Hello friend,

I remember when I was in my twenties. I was out in the world doing my thing. I was meeting tons of different people, figuring out how we all fit together. In all of those countless interactions, the thing that always seemed to bother me the most was when someone claimed to understand me, to know what I am all about. I was so sure that they weren’t even close to comprehending my essence and what made me tick. I just knew that I was completely different from everyone else and that no one could imagine my depths.

There are passages in my very first journal that allude to this feeling of being different and how that feeling isolated me.

“I am destined to be a loner, for no one can understand the things that drive me. I feel I am becoming more and more ‘abnormal’ as the days go by.” –July 7, 1994

“And even if I let some pretty close, I’ll always be alone, because no one can see what’s there. Some will claim to, but they won’t know the half of it.” –February 22, 1995

Ironically, at the same time that I was being regularly offended by people claiming to get me, I was arrogantly assuming that I could read everyone else like a book, as this passage reveals:

“I think the main reason for my silence and solitude goes back to the original issue: I feel I have these gifts or abilities in my mind that make me feel unlike the rest of society or members of my species. I truly believe, when I am honest with myself, that I am “different” from the rest, somehow cut from a different cloth than the rest of mankind. Although I am a believer in the thought that we are all truly different, I believe there are things inside of me that are beyond what lies inside the minds and souls of others. I feel I can truly understand every man and his thoughts and feelings, and then go beyond that to a very large place that no one else can know.” –July 25, 1997

Oh, the self-centered thoughts of a young adult! Those entries fascinate me—and embarrass me a little–all these years later. You may not be surprised to learn that my perspective has changed somewhat in the two decades that have passed since then.

These days, I am simply less sure. I don’t assume I know as much as I used to assume. I think I read people well, empathize with their experiences, and take them into my heart so I can feel their joy and pain. But I am quite sure there are hidden depths and dark corners inside them that I haven’t the tools to navigate. That certainty about my uncertainty has humbled me over the years.

I am not sure I have changed as much on the other side of the coin, though. I still tend to think that people don’t understand me very well. Maybe it is because exercises like last week’s 50 Words Challenge reveal that I have a number of complexities to my personality, a lot of conflicting traits that take time to expose.

Understanding the labyrinthine nature of my heart and mind has helped me in my humility, as I figure that most other people are more complex than I ever imagined. At least they might be, and that grain of doubt should keep me as free from certainty and judgment as possible. That uncertainty should keep me always in the moment, receiving them anew as our interactions evolve. It is a good lesson for me.

But how about it: AM I different??? Am I something extraordinary? Is there something totally unique about me? Obviously, the broad range of things that make up our personality and history makes each of us unique. But you know what I mean: Is there something that makes me so unlike most people?

I think that claiming characteristics outright seems a bit presumptuous—arrogant, even—so maybe it is wiser just to list a few potential candidates, ways that I usually feel isolated or unique (again, fully aware that each trait has an infinite number of variations and ways it intersects with our other traits).

One that comes to my mind is my hypersensitivity to oppression and unfairness. I have always been extremely averse to examples of historical, systematic oppression and mistreatment, such as that which our country and its citizens acted out on the American Indians and the African people ripped from their homelands and brought here as slaves (and, of course, everything that followed both of those things). I get the dual reaction of my blood boiling in outrage and my heart being torn to shreds when I think about such injustice. Even with modern examples, when I see a politician or pundit spew hatred or see a friend or family member support that hate-spewer, I become deeply offended by that. My sensitive heart gets broken often by such things.

I have always been that way about perceived unfairness. I think back on all the times I played with cheaters on the tennis court. I would get so appalled by the unfairness that I could hardly function. It is also why I get so worked up about the issue of privilege, such as when I see a highly privileged friend—born into wealth and whiteness and more—look down upon people who were born with fewer advantages and cannot fathom why the privileged should share either money or opportunities with the unprivileged. That ignorance enrages me. The people around me seem to be much less affected by such things. Or maybe they just hide it better.

Besides my sensitivity, the other characteristic that might separate me is my intense attachment to the concept of identifying and following one’s Bliss, dream-chasingk. I was bitten by this obsession before I ever wrote my first journal entry, when I decided to leave school and become an actor. I have sometimes remembered and sometimes forgotten to keep chasing my biggest dreams, but it is so obvious to me how that concept is such an enormous and identifying part of Who I Really Am. It is why you are reading these words in front of you: they are part of my dream.

I seem to be obsessed both with chasing my own dreams and helping others do the same. I see it as so important, even essential, to true happiness and fulfillment in this lifetime. I want it as much for you as I do for me.

The other day I was tooling around on Facebook and happened upon a meme that a friend had shared. It said, “It’s messing people up, this social pressure to ‘find your passion’ and ‘know what it is you want to do’. It’s perfectly fine to just live your moments fully, and marvel as many small and large passions, many small and large purposes enter and leave your life. For many people there is no realization, no bliss to follow, no discovery of your life’s purpose. This isn’t sad, it’s just the way things are. Stop trying to find the forest and just enjoy the trees.”

My first reaction was, “No! That meme was written and shared by people who just haven’t found their passion yet. They will change their tune when they find it.”

But the argument has stuck with me, even haunted me a bit. It made me think about the people in my life and how I am the only one who seems so obsessed by this concept of following my Bliss and living my purpose. I am the only one who thinks it is a great idea to set practical realities aside and just chase my dreams single-mindedly. I am the only one who keeps cheering others to do the same. I guess I think it should be common, should be normal to do that. It just isn’t.

There are probably a handful of other ways I feel myself sticking out from—or retreating from—the crowd. And like I said, I know we are all complex. We are the products of ever-changing intersections of different shades of countless distinct and indistinct qualities that blend with circumstances. But we are all humans. We share the same Earth and the same company. How different can we be?

Still, even though there are 7 billion of us inhabiting this third rock from the sun, I can’t help feeling that I am one of a kind.

How about you? What makes you different from all the rest? Open up your journal and think about the times you have felt unique, special, or misunderstood. Which of your characteristics seem to bring about these moments of feeling extraordinary? Are they qualities that you deem positive, negative, or somewhere in between? Do they seem to reveal themselves more now than in previous eras of your life, or were they more prominent before? What makes your version of that quality so unique? Have you had different characteristics that took turns setting you apart along your journey, or has it been just one or two core traits that have sustained? Do you appreciate your unique traits, or do you wish for others? Would you rather blend in more? Generally speaking, do you feel pretty well understood by the people in your life? Do you wish to be more understood? How much work would that take on your end? More than you want to do? Is it nice to have a little something just for yourself? How clearly and deeply do you think you understand the people in your life? Better than they understand you? What makes you think so? Would you guess that most people feel ordinary or extraordinary? If it is the latter, how many are willing to claim it out loud and celebrate their uniqueness? Should we do better at encouraging that? Do you celebrate your unique traits? Leave me a reply and let me know: What’s the difference between you and everybody else?  

Shine on,

William

P.S. If today’s letter made you look differently at yourself, please pass it on. Tell your loved ones that you appreciate their unique magic. Blessed be.

Next Year in Review: How will your 2017 look?

“The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.” –Eleanor Roosevelt

Hello friend,

How do these New Years keep coming around so quickly? It is faster and faster every year, it seems. It feels like just a couple of months ago I was looking forward to 2016 as I wrote “A New Year’s Question: How Do You Want to FEEL This Year?” And wasn’t I just recently writing “New Year’s Excuses” as I thought about how 2015 would look? Oh, where does the time go? And why don’t I ever seem to accomplish as much as I hope to? Are my dreams too big?

I have been thinking about this lately, wondering if I am shooting too high. After all, I have a long track record of missing the mark. Perhaps I should be taking all of that evidence into account when I set my aspirations for the year ahead.

NAAAHHH!!!

I don’t believe in the concept of “aiming too high.” I look around and see a world full of people aiming too low and settling for less than what makes their hearts sing. I don’t want that. Not for them, and definitely not for me. I believe in dreaming big dreams. And I admire the people who dream the big dreams and have the courage to go for them with all of their heart. Those are the people I want to hang with. More than that, I want to be one of those brave people.

Maybe I ought to try a new approach heading into 2017. In years past, I have done the “Daily To-Do List” and the “Excuse Inventory” to nail down some habits of thought and action that I wanted to be disciplined about. I have always centered the exercises around the question, “How do I want to FEEL this year?” That seems wise; I will keep that. But for this year’s look ahead, I think I will try imagining myself looking back instead.

That’s right, I think it will be fun–and helpful–to write a letter from the person I am at the end of next year to the person I am today. Because honestly, I could use a little perspective from someone on the other side of this fear and uncertainty I am feeling now, even if he is only in my imagination. So, here goes……

Dear William from the start of 2017, 

Congratulations, my friend—you made it! I know that a year ago at this time, you could hardly imagine the grass looking this green. You had just lost your job. Your wife needed a new job. Your whole, beautiful lifestyle with your children, something you had worked so hard to cultivate, was seemingly about to slip away from you. Everything seemed uncertain. You were scared. Very scared. And hey, I don’t blame you. It was a lot to lose.  

And that is why I congratulate you now: because when it came time to ask yourself, at the end of the 2016, your usual, “How do I want to FEEL next year?” question, you gave the answer that shaped all of the days that have followed. “Brave,” you said. “I want to feel BRAVE!” The rest, as they say, is history. 

You have needed to respond with courage often this year—it feels like daily—as so many challenges arose that could have had you cowering in your shell, giving in and making choices from weakness and fear. Starting your year without a job probably ended up being the best thing that could have happened, as it backed you into a corner immediately and demanded a response. Your uncompromising determination and devotion to your purpose in that crucial period set the tone and built up those “brave muscles” for future challenges.  

And out of it came your first book! A lifelong dream accomplished. I know that you know it is only one small step in the direction of your dreams. But, just between you and me, it was also a HUGE leap and something you really needed. So, while I know your nose is still to the grindstone and plugging away at doing more and better, take a moment and accept this pat on the back for hitting a milestone. You have done something important. (Okay, now back to work!) 

Courage came in handy in all of those moments, big and small, when global and national events seemed to conspire to bring you down and made you want to crawl back inside yourself and be quiet. You chose to be brave. You used your voice where you could. And instead of blaming the President or “the system” or whatever and giving up, you took ownership of your own sphere of influence and tried to make a difference where you could. You made deeper connections. You found more reasons to care. You discovered a way to feel powerful instead of helpless, and you shared it with others. That took courage, and it was worth it.  

At home, you entered a year which promised to hold the most uncertainties yet—finances, career transitions, schedule changes—and reminded everyone, yourself included, how blessed and how fabulously capable you all are of dealing with life’s changes, all the while keeping a steady hold on what is most important to your family unit. You now walk out of that fire stronger and more connected than ever.  

It really was a wild year! Coming into it, I couldn’t (that is, you can’t) imagine all of the twists and turns your road would take and all of the fascinating new ways you would find to look at your journey. I can smile back on it now, but I don’t blame you for being scared from where you stand, at the edge of the cliff with only the dark of night around you, not sure if your next step will find solid ground. You will find yourself there more than once this year.  

Just remember how you said you wanted to feel. BRAVE. As long as you remember who you are and what matters most to you—and that you continue to choose BRAVE—things are going to work out beautifully. Trust me, I’ve been there! 

Your better self,  

William from the end of 2017  

Call it foolishness or denial or whatever, but somehow reading that note from that guy makes me feel a lot better about where I am right now and this cliff I am about to step off. Do me a favor: remind me not to forget the BRAVE part, okay? Yeah, something tells me that this year is going to bring some magic with it, the kind of stuff that is beyond my imagination. I am open to magic right now. Let the games begin!

How about you? How are you approaching the New Year? Open up your journal and get ready to write a letter. What are your defining thoughts and emotions as this past year draws to a close and a new one begins? At New Year’s time, is your tendency more to look back at the past year or forward to the next? What lessons from the past year will you use to take on the year ahead? Where are you on the Optimism vs. Pessimism spectrum about the coming year? Will it be better or worse than normal for you? How much of that is up to you? What do you expect will be your favorite parts of the year? Are you expecting any major changes? Big breakthroughs or milestones? What do you expect your biggest challenges will be? Are there major transitions in your near future, like in mine? How much uncertainty are you feeling about the road ahead? What do you fear? How powerful are those fears? Do you feel equipped to deal with them? How strong are your brave muscles? How do you most want to feel through the coming year? What kinds of actions will bring about that feeling? Is there something you can do immediately to give that feeling some momentum early in the year? Now write that letter from your end-of-2017 self to your current self. What does that future self know that you could really benefit from now? What could that self say to give you more belief in yourself about the road ahead? What would ease your fears? What single thing do you most need to hear? Write honestly. Write from the heart. And don’t forget that you made it through the year, so you must be about to do something right! What do you want to say about that? Leave me a reply and let me know: How was your 2017?  

Shoot for the stars,

William

P.S. If this resonated with you or helped you see yourself from a different perspective, please share it. We are all on the journey together!

Lutefisk, Lefse, & Other Holiday Traditions

DSC_0893“When we recall Christmas past, we usually find that the simplest things—not the great occasions—give off the greatest glow of happiness.” –Bob Hope

Hello friend,

Ready or not, the holiday season is upon us! There are so many different holidays & reasons to celebrate this time of year—Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, New Year’s, Winter Solstice, even Wright Brothers Day (December 17, of course!), and more—depending upon how you were raised and the choices you have adopted since then. But let’s face it: in America, at this time of the year, it is Christmas that dominates the scene. We are a nation of Christmas. Even though for some, the holiday retains aspects of its original religious significance, it is safe to say that between Santa, the amount of money we spend on gifts, and the cross-cultural dominance of its symbols, Christmas has become mostly a secular celebration, like Halloween or Thanksgiving.

Because of this secularization, whether you are a Christian or not, you are probably about to embark on a week or two of Christmas-related rituals, leading right into the New Year’s Eve/New Year’s Day shenanigans. Many of these rituals involve your family, of course, and that means they are not simply rituals. They are traditions. They have been in your family for years, maybe even generations. Some are heart-touching. Some are vomit-inducing. Some somber. Some hilarious. All are meaningful in ways you can’t totally explain. So, basically, they are like your family!

When I was a kid, we would drive a couple of hours to the town where my parents grew up so we could spend Christmas Eve with my grandparents and cousins. My Grandma Jeanne would make a traditional turkey dinner for us, which was delicious. My Grandpa Mel, though, always insisted that she include on the menu a platter of lutefisk. If you don’t know what lutefisk is, consider yourself lucky. Picture a very pale, very fishy-tasting slab of rubber soaking in warm water. Come on, Grandpa Mel! Give me a break! This is your Norwegian tradition? This is the part of your heritage you want to pass down? I am glad to say that lutefisk is one tradition which has met its demise in my family’s current generation.

Food & drink are such an integral part of so many of our traditions, though, aren’t they? In my family, the favorite food tradition comes on Christmas morning, when my Mom makes her cheesy, hammy eggbake (is that a word?), caramel rolls, and sliced oranges. That may sound like an odd combo to you, but there might be a mutiny in the house if she did not make them to eat before we all go down to open presents.

Ah, the presents! We are totally a Christmas morning family. When I was a kid, we would get to open one present on Christmas Eve: the one from our cousins who were Christmas Eve people. If my parents had a “family present” to give us—a game of some sort—we might get to open that one too. But now that the cousins don’t exchange anymore, we are a Christmas-Morning-Only house.

And we have to be at my parent’s house—the house that I grew up in—to open them. When I was a kid, if we took the two-hour drive to be with my grandparents and cousins for Christmas Eve, we turned around at the end of a long night and drove back across the frozen tundra so we would be home for Christmas morning presents at our house. Even as we got into our college and early adulthood, no one dared to miss Christmas at home. Wouldn’t dream of it. Multiple kids with spouses and in-laws have complicated things, of course, and in recent years a couple of my siblings have had to take their turn at the in-laws’ houses instead. Spoiled as we are, none of us take it well. I am happy to say that even after all of the wandering I have done over the years, I have always made it home for Christmas. Some years there are twenty of us sleeping under one roof, with only our spouses feeling cramped. My kids absolutely love it, as do I.

One of these years, one of the families of my siblings will announce that they are starting their own tradition and will no longer be going to my parents’ house—or my parents will lock us all out—and I will be very sad about that.

I think one way that my family might be peculiar—just one, of course—is that we have no Christmas Eve traditions. The only thing remotely like it is that most people go to church. But some years, people are just getting to town that night and thus don’t go, and my little part of the family never goes. Other years, folks have split up and gone to different churches. So, even the church part is not so traditional. And then we follow it up with a totally random meal that changes from year to year. As I said, we are a Christmas Day people, not Christmas Eve.

But I do love Christmas Dinner! After the late-morning eggbake and the presents, my old man goes up to the kitchen and has his own tradition of getting very surly about anyone getting in his space for the next several hours as he prepares his prime rib. So, we are all desperately hungry by the time dinner rolls around. And it is a true delight, including the traditional Scandinavian specialty, lefse, covered in butter and tons of sugar (which guarantees that my kids will continue this tradition). But alas, no lutefisk. Sorry, Grandpa Mel. The best part of the whole deal for me, though, is the Swedish Cream with raspberry sauce that my Mom makes for dessert. That smooth, creamy-dreamy concoction slays me every year. It is my kind of tradition!

One of my personal traditions is writing in my journal in the afternoon between presents and supper—seeing as I am shut out of the kitchen by the surly guy upstairs—and including a list of all of the presents I got, for posterity’s sake. I like to think I will enjoy looking back on those entries one day, the thought of the presents bringing back lots of fun memories to swim around in.

Thinking now of all of these traditions is doing just that. I haven’t been able to wipe the smile off of my face since I started writing this letter. I love the holidays for the memories they create. That reminds me of one last thing I do every year no matter what: I thank my lucky stars for the family I get to share the holiday with and for this wonderful life I get to live every day in between. I am wildly blessed. I thank the holidays for reminding me of that. Every year. Same place, same time.

How about you? What are your holiday traditions? Get out your journal and be ready to smile as you write. Let’s get the bad stuff out of the way first. Are there any traditions that you plod through every year just because “it’s tradition,” gritting your teeth through every bit of it? How tempted are you to step up and suggest ending that tradition? (I remember being so relieved when we finally stopped buying presents for every single person in the extended family, but it took someone finally saying something before it happened.) What is the oldest tradition that you take part in? Is it more meaningful because of its longevity? Which traditions mean (or meant) the most to your parents? Are those the ones that mean the most to you, too? Which ones are the most fun? How about the food? Do you eat the same meals every year at your gatherings? What are your favorite dishes specific to holiday meals? Do you have a version of lutefisk (i.e. something awful but traditional) at your meals? Is there something like a Swedish Cream that only makes an appearance once per year but that you dream about the rest of the year? Do you have any holiday traditions that have nothing to do with family? If you had to pick only three of your traditions to continue for years to come, which would you choose? What makes them keepers? Do all of the traditions make the holidays more fun or more overwhelming? Leave me a reply and let me know: What are your favorite holiday traditions?

Cheers to you and yours,

William

P.S. If this letter got you in the holiday spirit or brought up some fond memories from the back of your mind, pass it on. Spread love this season!

What Are You Willing To Struggle & Suffer For?

dsc_0435“You can have anything in life if you will sacrifice everything else for it.” –J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

Hello friend,

I was talking recently with an entrepreneurial friend of mine whose new business is failing. She was wrestling with different options for how she might save it, or whether just letting it go was the best choice. It is a horrible spot to be in, to have to consider giving up on something you believed in and very much wanted to succeed.

I am not very good at advice—I tend to think people are the experts on their own lives–so I don’t give it often. Instead, I usually just ask them questions. My hope is that my questions will help them think more clearly about their situation so they can come up with the answer on their own that feels right with both their brain and their gut. I think that when you make your own decision rather than just doing what someone told you to do, you are more likely to take responsibility for the result. There is no one else to blame.

So, when she asked me what I thought she should do, I had no sure-thing strategy or any story about the times when I have had to make a similar decision. The only thing I had was a question.

Is it something you are willing to struggle and suffer for?

In other words, is it so important that this dream succeeds that you are willing to make big sacrifices—your time, money, emotions, etc.—to see it succeed?

Let’s face it, we all want our stuff to succeed. You want your new business to flourish. You want your relationship to be healthy, happy, and lasting. You want to make more money. You want to go on vacation next year. You want work that is meaningful and fulfilling. You want to be fit and healthy. You want to be self-aware. Right?

But which of those things are you ready to truly sacrifice for? The proof is almost always in the pudding.

A couple of years ago, I wanted to begin the transition out of my career coaching tennis. I knew that if I had a gun to my head, my answer for what I really wanted to do was be a writer. However, my confidence for achieving tangible success (i.e. a regular paycheck) doing that was low, so I was open to other avenues. But those avenues had to work around my kids, because giving my time and energy to them was my true top priority. I started taking classes to become a Life Coach, which sounded like a career right up my alley: fulfilling and flexible. I took a job out of tennis that wasn’t fulfilling but kept money coming in while meshing perfectly with my kids’ schedule. And I kept writing.

While in pursuit of the coaching avenue, a business opportunity doing something I wasn’t interested in was basically handed to me. I made a deal with myself to give it the minimal amount of time and effort to see if it would “magically” produce clients and dollars, crossing my fingers and hoping to strike it rich, at least until it no longer made financial sense to keep the experiment going. And I kept writing.

So, basically I had a job and three things I wanted to work out (under the condition that they let me be with my kids most of the time). That’s not asking for much, right?

What happened? Well, it was pretty straightforward. With the business that I didn’t care about, as soon as it looked like I had to work and get uncomfortable to turn a profit, I pulled the plug. Because I knew my conditions for that one going in, I was at peace. The next one to fall was the Life Coaching training. That one was much more painful to let go of, because it really would be both fulfilling and convenient as a career for me. And I loved it. But it would be a lot of work. More classes, trying to scrounge up clients from scratch, marketing, etc. Struggling, scraping, sacrificing, and suffering. If it was the only horse in the race, I would have kept at it.

But there was the writing thing. That was the longest shot of all of them, the one with the most uncertainty, most likely to fail, most difficult to gain steady employment, and generally most tormenting of all (as creative ventures are prone to be). I would have jettisoned all thoughts of a writing career, except for one small detail: my heart was set on it.

I knew with what little time I have when I am not at my regular job or busy with the kids, I simply could not attempt to press on with the Life Coach training and the writing simultaneously. Push had finally come to shove, and, as I said, the proof is in the pudding. The writing is all that remains. It is the only career-related enterprise I seem willing to struggle and suffer for.

There are bigger tests to pass with it, though, as it won’t be long before I will have to challenge myself to replace my safe day job with some form of actually being paid to write. It remains to be seen how much I will be willing to sacrifice, how much I will compromise, and how stubbornly I will take a stand for “writing or starvation,” as it is much tougher to be principled when there are other mouths to feed.

Will I truly be willing to suffer for my writing, or will time bear out that I only really like the idea of being a writer but not the actual writer’s life and work? Inevitably, the proof will be in the pudding.

The only other area of my life that I have shown the willingness to make sacrifices to make it work is mentioned above: that demand to spend my children’s childhood with them rather than consumed by work. Before my daughter was born, I was in a position of some authority and made a comfortable amount of money. But I worked a ton. If I had kept that schedule, I would have hardly seen her or her future brother. So, I stepped down, taking a lower position and a much lower paycheck. But I staked a claim to my schedule. I have hardly compromised it in the eight years since.

And yes, I have wanted to make more money in those eight years. And I have wanted to go on vacation. But I haven’t been willing to do the necessary struggle and sacrifice for the money or the vacation, because that would mean compromising the time with the kids. The proof in the pudding, see?

So, I guess I have two stories for myself. I would say I am passing the test on the kids priority, not just saying I want the time but actually struggling to protect it. But I am willing to say that the jury is still out on the writing priority. I want to think that it is a done deal, that I will make all necessary sufferings and sacrifices for it and will go down swinging rather than compromise again, but that test has not been completed. I feel it coming to a head very soon and am gathering my strength and resolve for it.

But I also have the sneaking suspicion that these tests are never completely passed, that we have to step up to them and stake our claim over and over again as we continually define who we are in this life. I think sometimes we ignore them, though, and go sleepwalking through our little worlds for a while. But other times, the battle lines are crystal clear: you know the very value of your life is on the line, how hard it will be live it the way your heart knows you should, and that this is the moment of truth. I feel one of those crystalline moments approaching in my life. It is scary yet exhilarating, this opportunity to define myself by laying claim to what I value. I go willingly into the struggles. En garde! 

How about you? What in your life is so important that you are willing to suffer and struggle and sacrifice for? Open up your journal take a look at the pudding. What does the way you live your life say about the things you value most? First, it might be more helpful to begin with a rundown of the things you think you value or say you value. What are they? Now take a look at your history. What are the things, at different points in your life, that you have genuinely struggled for? As you look back now, how did those struggles shape you? Do you still value those things that you once struggled so hard for? What about now? Is there anything in your life right now that you are making the big sacrifices for, grinding so hard in the service of something you value so highly? What are the sacrifices and struggles and sufferings? How sure are you that it is worth it? Is it worth so much to you because of the struggle or in spite of the struggle? Okay, so now compare what you said you value with the things you are actually sacrificing for, if there are any? Do your mouth and your actions tell us different stories? Are you prepared to do something to correct that? Is there something in your life—a long-held dream, perhaps—that you want badly but have simply not had the courage to pursue because of all of the struggle and sacrifice involved? What small step can you take today in the direction of that desire? I dare you! Leave me a reply and let me know: What are you willing to struggle and suffer for?

Let your life be your message,

William

P.S. I hope you really climbed inside yourself on this topic, as I know that for me, that good, hard look in the mirror is so helpful, even if difficult. If it helped you, I hope you will share today’s letter with your world. Go and grow!

From Gripes to Grapes: Finding Your Way to THANKFUL

IMG_1667“Be thankful for every mountain, because it is the mountain top that will give you the best view of the world.” –Gugu Mona

Hello friend,

Last Sunday at my spiritual gathering, the minister explained that the collection for the day would go entirely to the refugee family that our congregation is sponsoring and who will be arriving in a couple of weeks. We were also collecting household goods—beds, sheets, lamps, cleaning supplies, etc.—to get them started on their new life in America. Well, one person in my row was paying attention to the minister.   So, when the basket was passed around, I pulled out my wallet and grabbed more than I usually do. My wife looked over, her eyes got big, and she whispered, “Whoa! Big spender!” I whispered back my defense: “It’s for the refugees.” An “Ahh” and a look of recognition appeared, followed by a nod of approval and a thumbs-up.   In that moment, I suddenly felt so grateful for something that usually has me either worrying or complaining: my bank account.

You see, as I alluded to in my letter to you a few weeks ago (see “How Much Is ENOUGH?”), I tend to be gripped by dread and insecurity each time I open my wallet. I hate spending money, and wish I had more of it so I wouldn’t be so obsessed by it (at least that’s how I explain away my worries and stinginess). So why was I suddenly feeling grateful for the money in my wallet and so willing to part with it?

Because I realized that I have a lot more of it than the entire refugee family has, and I actually have a bank account to fill my wallet up again when it goes empty. And in that moment, I realized that that was called good fortune.

In this time called Thanksgiving, I think I am usually like most people: I take a moment to give thanks for my family and friends, my health, clean water, a roof over my head, and warm food in my belly. Those thoughts humble me, and they connect me back to my Creator and what is really important in this world. I love Thanksgiving for just that reason: the humble reminder.

But as I thought about my sudden burst of gratitude concerning my old nemesis, money, something struck me about my usual Thanksgiving moment of gratitude: I am letting myself off easy.

Think about it. How about much work does it take to be grateful—on a day that we get to take off of work for the specific purpose of giving thanks for our blessings—for the things that are so obviously good in your life?

That’s why the money incident got my attention. Money is just not something I am used to being overwhelmed with gratitude for, or believing I have in such abundance that I should always be feeling grateful for. I really should, though, because I realize now that I do, indeed, have enough.

But I don’t always feel grateful. Instead, I worry. I gripe. I clamor for more. I get a little bitter. Those aren’t good feelings. I don’t want more of them.

I truly enjoyed the experience of feeling grateful for the money I have and that I could give some away. Of course, I am a big fan of an unexpected joy and a boost of gratitude. So, I started thinking of the other things I am most hung-up about in my little corner of the world. You know, the things I tend to complain about, fear, or be depressed by. These last couple of days, I’ve been trying to figure out how I can change those downers into things I can be grateful for. I’ve come up with a few ideas.

I am not a Winter person. I never have been. I don’t like the cold. I don’t like shoveling snow. I don’t like the consuming darkness. And I despise the inconvenience of putting on so many clothes before leaving the house. It’s just not me. I’m a Summer guy. So, as these cold, dark days have been descending upon me following a lovely Autumn, my tendency is to get the grumbles. Misery loves company, and there are people everywhere I go who are willing to complain about Winter if I give them a little nudge. But today, I am flipping the script. Today I am focusing on the fact that the cold, dark days of Winter are usually the time when I get my most and best writing done. Of course, I love that. So, come on, Winter! I am already grateful for you!

One nice thing about this process is that I am realizing that I don’t have a lot that I consistently complain about, no anchor in my life that always brings me down. I am grateful for that all by itself.

I have to admit, though, that I have been carrying around a weight of sadness since the election, and even in the months leading up to it, as I watched my country be revealed as a place I had been blindly hoping it was not. I confess to a silent resentment toward my many family members who voted for this person whose success translates into other members of my family and my friends living in greater fear for their physical safety and the potential loss of their civil rights. I have had a terrible time reconciling that. I don’t want to feel that anger toward these people that I love. So, today I am trying (with all my might) to let that resentment go. I am deciding to focus on the fact that they are otherwise loving, decent people who have always treated us, on a one-to-one basis, very kindly. I am grateful for that, and I will keep working hard to focus on that kindness.

On a less personal and more broad scale, I have been fairly devastated by what has felt like the loss of the country I thought I had been living in. Though I had been dispirited by the entire year-and-a-half Presidential campaign and its recurring themes of racism, misogyny, and religious intolerance, I was somehow still hopeful that my fellow countrymen would, when they and their consciences stepped into the voting booths together, make a bold and decisive stand against that brand of ignorance.

Of course, my optimism was shown to be shockingly misguided. My psyche has been ravaged as I have watched the ensuing expressions of hate in our schools and streets, as well as the celebrations by white nationalist and white supremacist groups about the election results and the Cabinet appointments that have followed. I have listened to my loved ones who aren’t straight, white, Christian, American-born males express their fears and share the bad experiences they have had due to their identities. I’ve been feeling so stupid because I believed something about my country that turned out to be untrue, and then I have felt sick about the truth. I have to be honest: as a guy who tries to practice and preach Gratitude and always searches for the silver lining, I have had a hard time finding it on this topic these last couple of weeks.

But then I was standing in my kitchen on Thursday evening, looking out over the Thanksgiving meal being enjoyed at my dining table and family room sofas by a small gathering of friends and family members. There was lots of laughter, but there were also interesting discussions about a wide range of topics, including faith and social issues. After listening to some specifics in the few small groups, I pulled my view back a bit further and saw something different, something that changed me.

Here in this one room in my home was a microcosm of the America I had believed in just a few weeks ago. There were white people, Christian people, straight people, able-bodied people, American-born people, and male people, of course. But there were also black people, multiracial people, Muslim people, nonreligious people, gay people, disabled people, immigrant people, and female people. They were just enjoying each other and strengthening the bonds of community and humanity by learning more about one another. It was a little, one-room Utopia.

So, despite all of the legitimate fear and worry that these people feel with the recent election results, and despite how down I have been about living in a country that voted for this fear by voting in the intolerance and bigotry that causes it, my table reminds me that I can still do something about it. That we can still do something about it. It may become more difficult in the next few years, and we may be doing a lot more comforting in our gatherings than we would like. But if we are intentional, and if we keep Love at the forefront, we will not be broken by this setback. The arc of the Universe inevitably bends forward, toward progress. It is not always linear, but the long course of history shows it to be steady. I am thankful that the people who gather at my table just as they are—as equals—will be the keepers of the flame, the ones insisting on progress despite formidable obstacles in our path. I am so, so thankful for that.

And I needed the reminder.

How about you? What are the things in your life that you usually complain about or that drag you down that you are willing to try to turn into things you can be grateful for? Open up your journal and peruse your pattern of thoughts. What do you complain about? Is it big stuff or small stuff? Is it worthy of your effort it takes to complain? What is the stuff that annoys you but that you hold your tongue about? What kinds of things really depress you or otherwise drag you down? Do your issues tend to be constant or recurring things—like money or Winter—or unique issues that come up once, like an election? Pick an issue. What can you do today to change your mind about that issue to the point that you are grateful for its existence? Try that question with progressively bigger hang-ups, going as deep as you can with each to come up with something positive about them that you can be thankful for. How hard is this for you? I think it is easier sometimes to imagine how you will see these “problems” twenty years from now, because from that point-of-view you might be able to see how these issues were actually blessings helping you get to where you need to go. But maybe not. Do you have anything that you absolutely cannot spin in a grateful direction? Is that due to a lack of imagination or effort on your part, or is it just so dark and bad that there is no lens from which to look at it and find something to be grateful for? Does this quest for gratitude make you feel better and help you to see light where you didn’t before? Is this a natural habit for you or something you need much more work to develop? Leave me a reply and let me know: Can you find your way to THANKFUL? 

You are a gift,

William

P.S. If today’s letter helped you to move toward an attitude of gratitude, or if something else resonated with you, please share it. Gratitude is worth spreading!

How Much Is ENOUGH? Money & Our Fear of Losing It

DSC_0043“He who is not satisfied with a little, is satisfied with nothing.” –Epicurus

Hello friend,

I recently had the most eye-opening conversation with a loved one. Have you ever known someone for a long time, are sure you understand them thoroughly, and then one day they tell you something that makes you go, “Really??? You really think that?” Maybe you always kind of knew something like that was in them and just steered away from it in conversation, or maybe it totally just came out of left field. In either case, the new information forces you to look at them through an entirely new lens. The color and texture of their portrait in your mind has changed. It is amazing what a simple revelation can do!

So, here’s how it happened. We were talking about taxes and what types of things they should cover. A recurring theme from her side was that she shouldn’t have to pay for anyone else’s problems; it is her hard-earned money and no one else is entitled to it (“entitlements” was a word frequently repeated). I raised the issue of health care and the different ways it is paid for around the world. I proposed the possibility of blowing up our current system, removing the insurance part of the deal, letting the government take over (scary thought, I know), and guaranteeing “free” health care for everyone in the country. This, of course, would mean using our taxes—most likely a large increase in them—to pay for it. [WRITER’S NOTE: This topic of taxes and health care is rich journaling territory, as it speaks directly to our values. And now that it is in my head, don’t be surprised if the whole letter next week is about it. See how easy it is to come up with a topic—ha!]

The less interesting part of her reply to my proposal was the typical response of a conservative person to a liberal idea, essentially, “It’s an admirable idea. You figure out a way to make it work and, more importantly, a way to pay for it without taking any more of my money, and I am in.” As I pressed her more on why, if the spiritual leaders that most of the world’s people claim to worship urged us to do so, we are not ALL morally obligated to find a way to get everyone taken care of, I could feel her defenses rising higher and higher. The tension was palpable.

Finally, she said in a panic, “If China calls back the debts we owe, we would ALL be in huge trouble and NONE OF US would have the health coverage that you are talking about!” This was a totally new angle to me, and I have to admit to being a bit stunned by it. “None of us?” I asked. “NONE!” She said it as a fact. There was genuine alarm in her tone. I explained how the wealthy people have, since our country’s inception, always had enough. They have never been without plenty of food and the best health care. “No matter what happens,” I said,“the wealthy will be alright.” I could actually hear comfort and reassurance in my tone. Her fearful, doubt-filled voice responded meekly, “Do you think so?”

Now might be a good place to give you a little background on the socioeconomic history of my companion. She is a White woman who was raised in a comfortable, middle class home in a comfortable, middle class town. Her parents were never out of work, and they paid for her college education. She married an upwardly mobile White man, and they slowly and steadily increased their wealth—paying for their own children’s educations as well–to the point that now, in retirement, they own multiple homes across the country and have clearly moved beyond the middle class. To any neutral onlooker, it is clear that she will never want for anything financially for the rest of her life. And, much to her credit, she continues to share generously with her family.

So, why the pronounced fear of losing her money to the whims of Chinese financiers and her fierce protection of her tax dollars from the folks she believes are stealing from her by using “entitlements”? Hmmm…..

Talking with her left my mind spinning with theories and questions about this strange relationship between a woman and her money. While it may seem strange to me, I also realize it is probably not at all unique. This mentality of scarcity, of lack—as though, “If I share my money with others, I will never see it again and it won’t be replaced by other money,”—could be a familial thing. It could certainly be a generational thing. After all, this woman’s parents grew up during the Great Depression, and the lessons learned of necessity by that generation would undoubtedly have been passed down to her.

There is likely also something political about it. After all, isn’t that wariness and protection of one’s resources rooted in the very word “conservative”? I also think there is this “You pull yourself up by your own bootstraps” mentality that exists especially in people who already have money, and you can argue over whether that mentality is how they were able to get the money in the first place, or if the mentality is simply a way to justify a stinginess when it comes to sharing their money with others, whether through taxes or charitable donations.

I still can’t figure out the thing about limits, though. That is, Is there a dollar value high enough in her bank account such that she would finally feel like she would be great even if the country had a recession, or high enough that she wouldn’t mind if her tax dollars went to help others who haven’t been as lucky as she has? Or is it simply hard-wired that no matter how much she has, she will always have that scarcity mentality? And, paradoxically, could her swelling bank account make her even more protective of her dollars? After all, you always hear of those studies that say it is poor people who are most likely to share what they have with others, not the wealthy. Is it because poor people know how hard it is to have so little that makes them more likely to give to someone else who needs a hand? This is complicated!

Even as I try to come up with a clear explanation of my own relationship with money and how much is enough for me, I find inconsistencies that muddle the theory. One of my grandfathers was known as a real penny-pincher, and I can definitely tell that I inherited that, either genetically or socially passed. I do not like to spend money, especially on myself (even though I secretly delight in gifts of new stuff). While I have definitely given to causes, I also feel that dread of “Can I afford to give? Will there be enough left?” scarcity mentality when the doorbell rings or the donation basket comes around. I give, but not tons, and I usually do so with both a little twinge of worry and a heavy dose of guilt, knowing I could give more. In so many ways, I feel like a cheapskate. And yet, I am the first in line to vote for a levee or referendum that increases my taxes to put money into schools. And when my friend challenges me to come up with the answers to make quality health care accessible to everyone, I tell her that I don’t mind one bit if my taxes go way up to do it. I suppose I am like, “Take it all off the top—from my wages for taxes—and then let me figure out how to make it work with the rest.” Of course, I would like to have more than I do now—much more, even—but I am surviving in the middle right now. There is not much money for things like vacations or other extravagances, but there is plenty of food in the fridge.

I guess what I have always wanted is to have just enough so that I don’t have to think about it. You know, just up to the point where my penny-pinching tendencies wouldn’t have to kick in. I would like to be able to donate more than I do now and still have the food in the fridge. And while vacations and extravagances would be nice, I would be okay if I was always had as much as I do now.

So, maybe enough for me would actually be if I made more than I do now so that my taxes and donations could go up and I would be left with just as much for the bills as I have now.   That is being greedy, I know, because of course I could survive on less (billions of people around the world prove that). But, within the conditions of my spoiled American life and what I have become accustomed to, I will claim that as my baseline. I know my ambitious mind would drive for more if more were readily available, but I am okay with what I have. It allows for my dueling natural tendencies to co-exist: the penny-pincher and the guy who is eager to give in order to help others rise. That is enough for me.

How about you? How much money do you need to feel psychologically comfortable? The outward signs of comfort may be what you are imagining, but remember that we are really talking about a level of comfort in your mind with what you have, living without fear and without all your defenses up around the issue of your money. Where is that level for you? How would you categorize your current financial situation? Do you have as much as you need? I hope the answer to that is yes. Now, do you have as much as you want? Of course, we all probably want to be billionaires, but within reason, how much more do you want in order to feel the kind of comfort you usually imagine? Is your general mentality one of lack or abundance? How generous are you with your money? Do you feel that twinge of worry, like me, every time you open up your pocketbook? Is it a justified worry based on your situation, or are you actually like my friend who has plenty but worries anyway? How do you give? Are you someone who donates to causes that matter to you? Do you focus your generosity on family members? Do you begrudge the government for taking your money for taxes? Would you be fine with your taxes being higher? Do you live within your means, or do you outspend your resources? How does that play into your view on how much is enough? If you are a big spender, do you think there is any amount that you would agree is enough for you? How much fear do you have of losing your money and the status that comes with it? How extreme of a situation would it take for you to truly no longer have enough? How likely is that to occur? Does your fear of that loss match up to its probability? If you gave more—in whatever way—would you fear more? Why do we protect so fiercely? Are the wealthy generally the most protective of their money? If so, why? Is there some amount that you could name that, for almost anyone, ought to be enough? How about for you? Leave me a reply and let me know: How much is enough for you? 

May you be wealthy in Love and Peace,

William

P.S. If today’s letter helped you to look differently at your relationship with money and how protective you are of it, please pass it on. Share the gift of self-knowledge!