Category Archives: Happiness

A New Year’s Question: How Do You Want to FEEL This Year?

DSC_0784“If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them.” –Henry David Thoreau

Hello friend,

Happy New Year! Here we are again. Every year around this time, the millions and millions of people who have set resolutions for the coming year begin their quests to live better. They are going to the gym, quitting sugar or alcohol, looking for a new job, going back to school, reaching out to old friends, starting a journal (right???), or just being more patient. Whatever it is, people are starting something or quitting something in the name of improving themselves and being happier. That is definitely something I can get behind!

So, what about me? What is my big resolution? I am terrible at this! I really am. I have never really made resolutions. The last few years, though, have found me very contemplative around the holidays and looking ahead to the vast potential of the coming calendar cycle. It has been a fertile period for my mind to stew about what needs to be added to my life, how I need to get better, and what habits I need to develop to make my dreams come true. I want to advance the cause, after all, and what better time to check-in and refocus than the start of a new year?

I have come around to the practice of allowing my thoughts about this to radiate around one basic question: How do I want to FEEL this year? I think that for most people, the process of resolution-making at New Year’s begins with thoughts like “What do I want to DO this year?” or “What do I want to STOP DOING this year?” I can see how those thoughts could be effective for the majority of people, but I have found over the years that, as with most things, I don’t seem to fit in with the majority on this one.

When I base my thoughts around the DO THIS or DON”T DO THAT resolutions, they just don’t grow roots in my heart and soul. They don’t resonate. They feel like orders to me, and anyone who knows me knows that I don’t take orders very well! I cannot be put in a box. When I focus on how I want to feel, though, it allows me a range of DOs and DON’Ts that I can flow betwixt and between throughout the year, changing course as my intuition directs me toward the feelings I have deemed most desirable. It also keeps pushing me until the year ends, because as I complete one goal, the feeling I want still demands to be felt. Thus, I must press on to the next thing that will conjure the feeling. It is the right mix of demanding yet still flexible that suits my personality.

So, what do I want to feel this year? Well, the easiest answer for me every year is fit and healthy. I would like to heal up some injuries still lingering from last year and free my body to do all of the activities that free my soul. For the first time ever, feeling fit and healthy this year is also going to include a weight loss component. Although I have some initial plans for how that is going to work involving nutrition and different exercises, I will be open to the ways my body reacts. If I follow the feeling, it will keep me on the right track. The healthy feeling will be an easy one for me to chase and stay honest about.

The other feeling that has been pressing on my mind as I enter the New Year has proven to be tougher to pin down. The part that is clear is its source. Over the past several months, I have been feeling increasingly pent-up regarding my progress toward the life of my dreams. I have not been making it happen, and that drives me nuts. More and more nuts every day. I am trying to be realistic. I don’t expect all of my wildest dreams to come true this year. But I need to know I am taking real, measurable steps toward those dreams. I cannot be stalled. That part, I have found, is key for me. It is not enough to hit one of my goals and then stop for a while to revel in it. That is how I get the pent-up feeling that currently courses through my veins. The drumbeat of my soul’s calling never stops, so I must never stop marching to it.

What is the name of this feeling that I want to keep feeling, though? What do I call this thing that I want my goals and plans to revolve around? Bear with me here, because I know that writing myself through it will help me find clarity (which is exactly why I journal every day).

I want to feel like I am really advancing my dreams, making big progress toward the big rocks that I want/need to move to find any career peace and satisfaction. I want to end this uncertainty about whether I can succeed in making a living doing the things that I love. I know what I want my career to look like; I just have to make the vision a reality. So, there is a lot of doing to do. The excuse-making and procrastination have to be shut down hard. I must make those tangible steps. Things like getting coaching clients, writing jobs, getting through volumes of The Journal Project, and compiling a list of posts for a potential book based on Journal of You.

Okay, so is accomplishment a feeling? Maybe that’s it. I’m just dying to be doing my thing more often and reaching people. I want to feel like I am making a difference. Yes, now that strikes a chord in me! I want to feel like I am making a difference. I want to be making a positive impact on lots of people. Right now, I am not, and that is very discouraging. I want to get in the action! I’m pent-up. I need to get engaged. That would make me feel useful and effective. That would release some of this tension that I’ve been carrying around for too long. It would be a big weight off my shoulders. I would LOVE that! So, maybe that’s it. Maybe, in the end, what I really want to feel this year is relieved.   I want the relief of setting down my burden, a burden that amounts to not living my dream and not living up to my potential. If I could feel the relief of setting that burden down, it would be a wonderful year, indeed!

How about you? What is the feeling that would make this the best year for you? Open up your journal and think about your goals, dreams, plans, hopes, and resolutions for the coming year. Write them all down. Now think about the ways each of these achievements would make you feel. What are the feelings that come up inside you? How much do they change depending upon the plans or resolutions that you are thinking about? Do your biggest dreams elicit completely different emotions than your standard resolutions or plans? Is there anything you want to feel in the coming year that has not been stirred by your current goals and resolutions? Why do you think your plans have left that important feeling out? Is it something you feel to be unworthy of or too much to ask for? What do you think of my method of starting with my desired feelings and setting my plans and goals from there? Would it work for you, too? Do you make New Year’s resolutions every year? Why do you think you do or don’t? Do you make them often at other times of the year as well? How good are you at sticking to your resolutions or goals? Which types of resolutions do you have a good record with? Which type do you bail out of or fail at quickly? What is it about the goals themselves that make you more or less likely to succeed? Is it the feelings they will generate? What is the most important thing you plan to do this year? Leave me a reply and let me know: What will it feel like to live your best year? 

Your life is now,

William

P.S. If this made you consider your journey through Life in a different way, please share it with someone you know.

A Golden Life: Reflections on My Parents’ 50 Years of Marriage

DSC_1086“Falling in love is easy, but staying in love is very special.” 

Hello friend,

Over the recent holidays, I got to spend several days in my childhood home. The place still feels like a haven for me. It cradles me. I love its energy, its vibe. Around Christmas, though, that calming influence is mixed with utter pandemonium, as 20+ people, a few dogs, and a cat all share the space every hour of the day. It is a circus. A delightful circus, but still a circus. The tendency is for the days to whirl by in the madness, and suddenly I am in the car again, heading back to the uncertainties of “real” life and away from the place that still fills me with the comfort and security of a child in his parents’ arms.

This time, however, even amidst the chaos, I couldn’t help but pull back a little bit and take stock. I had a few moments—when the decibels were at peak level as all the kids tore into their presents, or as the multiple conversations criss-crossed at the three tables (one for the adults, one for the teens and people like me who don’t want to grow up, and one for the little kids) at Christmas dinner—when I simply sat back and appreciated the overwhelming swirl of Love and community that filled the house. It was truly awesome. I couldn’t help but notice myself mouthing the words “Thank you” as I looked on in wide wonder. I was humbled by the gift of a seat at the table amongst such beautiful souls. What a family!

Of course, when I think about my family and its remarkable run of happy togetherness, the road leads swiftly and certainly to my parents. The part of this trip that made it extra special was that we all got to share in their 50th wedding anniversary. FIFTY YEARS! Even as I write the words, the concept astounds me. Fifty years of marriage. I was patting myself on the back when my wife and I hit twelve years last Summer. I guess we better pack a lunch!

I have spent a lot of time thinking about marriage in the last couple of years. My own, my parents’, and the concept in general. I think about how tough it is to make marriage work, why so many of them fail, and why some people stay in them long after they should probably be gone. I have seriously pondered most of the couples that I know. Gradually, though, as my study has progressed, I have spent more and more time thinking only about my own parents. They have become the example.

For many years in my adulthood, I wondered why in the world they stayed married. I wanted what was best for my Mom, and frankly, I just wasn’t convinced that being married to my Dad was a healthy thing anymore. Alcoholism lays waste to most things in its path. It is clear to me why most relationships with an alcoholic end badly. Some disastrous combination of untruthfulness and hurtfulness wears the other down until there is nothing left but to leave or be lost.

I once asked my Mom if she was thinking about cutting ties and moving on. From her reaction, it was clear that the thought had never even occurred to her. Her only goal was to get my Dad feeling well again. She knew that the magnificent man that she had married when she was only twenty years old was still in there, that he just needed some help to find himself again. And she was darn sure going to be there every step of the way. Encouraging him. Comforting him. Challenging him. Holding his hand. Loving him. And always, always believing in him. In them.

I have to admit that at the time, I just couldn’t see it very clearly. I would have cut and run, not wanting to go down with the ship. I am hypersensitive, so lies and hurtful words and acts turn my heart in a hurry. I was always amazed—but also dismayed–by my mother’s capacity for patience and forgiveness. There were definitely moments that I wanted her to stand up and shout, “ENOUGH!!!” And I thought less of her for not doing so.

I see it differently now.

As I said, I have been thinking pretty hard about this lately. I think about my parents at that time and how miserable it seemed from my view on the outside. And then I think about them now and how happy and in love they seem, so grateful to be growing old together. I realize now that I was wrong and my Mom was right. She took a lot more than I could take, and a lot more than I wanted her to take. But in her seemingly unending love and patience—and more importantly than that, in her unyielding belief in her husband and in her commitment to him—she was able to weather the storm and carry them back onto the road, where they now walk hand-in-hand to their Happily Ever After.

There are a couple of things I take heart in when I think about their long journey, and in particular about the storm. First, even though I am sure she would do a few things differently, I am even more sure that she would carry his burdens again if need be, and that her belief in him and commitment to him would never falter. And second, I know he would do the same for her.

This is how a marriage works.

I am thankful every day that I was born to these two amazing people. I am thankful for the way they raised me, the love and self-confidence that they instilled in me. I am thankful for the way they have supported me and my siblings as we have endeavored to live meaningful lives and build families around their model. I am thankful that my kids get to love them and learn from them. And I am thankful that, amidst all of my ponderings of the difficulties of marriage and the many ways that marriages fail, I have a shining example of how marriage succeeds, of how marriage is meant to be. I only hope that I can follow their lead.

How about you? Who are your greatest relationship role models? Open up your journal and examine what it is about the couples you know who are doing it right. What characteristics do they have that makes their relationships work? Do both parties have that characteristic equally, or one more than the other? Do their personalities and skill-sets complement each other? What makes some relationships last where others fail? Is it the depth of commitment each person makes? It seems that people in my parents’ generation felt more of a moral obligation to marry for life than is expected in the current generation. While you can definitely argue that that doomed many people to remain in unhappy relationships, what do you see as the upside of that moral obligation? Is my mother’s resilience and willingness to weather the storm a byproduct of such a morality? Do you see that as a good thing or a bad thing? If you are married now, how confident are you that you will make it to the end of your lives together? If you aren’t married, does the poor success rate of marriages make you more hesitant to marry, or does that awareness not play a role in your confidence? How happily were/are your parents together? Are they a good role model for you in the marriage department? What about their relationship do you most want to avoid? What do you most want to emulate? Do you expect to live happily ever after with someone? Leave me a reply and let me know: What would people say about your relationship 50 years from now? 

Let Love Rule,

William

P.S. If this made you think about your life, pass it on. Let’s build a community of self-aware people!

Presents vs. Presence: What is the Best Gift on Your List?

DSC_0405“Together is the best place to be.” —Words painted on the wall at my family’s cabin

Hello friend,

I LOVE Christmas presents! I know that, at this age, I am supposed to be embarrassed to admit that, but it is so true. Even as my hair gets more gray every year, that is one part of being a kid that has never left me. I still get downright squirrely the moment I wake up on Christmas morning, eager to skip the breakfast formalities and get right to the gifts. It is all I can do to keep from shoving everyone—my wife, kids, siblings, nieces, nephews, in-laws, and my parents–down the stairs to their spots on the sofas and chairs so we can start distributing the mountains of gifts piled under and around the tree.

Christmas—and my giddiness about the presents—has always been this way at my house. I had a few friends growing up who got cool stuff at random times all through the year, and Christmas was no big deal to them. They got a few presents, just like any other week out shopping with their parents. Ho hum. We were NOT that family! My parents pinched pennies all year long—“Better ask for it for your birthday,” and “Put it on your Christmas List” were familiar refrains—but they went all-out on those two special days. Tons of presents and a real effort to make it a special day. And it was!

My anticipation for Christmas was feverish. The day before was always a rollercoaster of emotions: a kind of ecstatic elation about its nearness mixed with the absolute torment of waiting. Like rabid dogs, my siblings and I would crawl through the piles around the tree and oh-so-carefully slide underneath it, squeezing and shaking each gift, guessing at the contents of each and, of course, making a tally of how many each kid was getting. Finally, in the evening, after hours of begging, we were allowed to open one present—ONE—always the one from my cousins. It was a momentary thrill, but hardly enough to assuage my wild urges to tear through the wrappings under the tree to see if my guesses were correct. I salivated over the thought of new toys. The frenzy in my mind made for a tough time getting to sleep on Christmas Eve, and from the moment I woke up on Christmas morning, I was like a maniac, just DYING to get to the presents.

The years have passed, and though the extremes of my torment and elation have been tamed a bit, I still get giddy in anticipation of diving into the presents. It is a unique delight to tear open that wrapping paper on Christmas morning to discover the new treats that will sparkle up my life in the coming year. I guess that is the one way that I am a classic American: I love more stuff! I often feel a bit guilty about how much I enjoy it. But, since the guilt hasn’t made the feeling go away, I have decided to claim it. I am a materialist. 

A funny thing has happened on the way to my middle adulthood, though. As much as I appreciate the spine-tingling anticipation and excitement for the presents, as the years pass by, I recognize more and more that what I mostly love is the time with my family. It is true that I have always loved it this way—indeed, I have never missed a Christmas at my childhood home with my family, even when I had to quit my job to be there—but only in recent years have I been so keenly aware of its value to me. It was always there, quietly wallpapering the scene of those Christmas Eve games and those wild Christmas morning gift-a-paloozas, but I couldn’t recognize it as such in my greedy haze. I feel it now, and I acknowledge and honor the feeling.

I guess I have come to the point where I can see that the real point of the holiday—or at least the thing I value the most (by far)—is the fellowship, the love for the people I am gathered with (and the ones in my heart) rather than all of the presents that seem to dominate the months of lead-up. Think about this, friend: we have a whole season of shopping and then a whole day of togetherness. I really wish that could be reversed.

I am so glad that I have come to this awareness, this realization, before it is too late. No one has died and left me wishing I had truly cherished the time we had. My family seems to be—knock on wood—in its prime. My parents and siblings are all healthy and enjoy spending time together. We look forward to our Christmas all year as that time to be together under one roof with no agenda. It is simply about being together. And it is the best.   I am beyond grateful for that.

What warms my heart even more, however, is that my kids love it just as much as I do. Their two favorite weeks of the year are the Christmas week with their cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents, and then, of course, their week at the family lake cabin in the Summer, where the very same crew is assembled. All year long they talk about how they can’t wait to go back to both places. Not coincidentally, those are my two favorite weeks, too. Birds of a feather, we surely are. I am grateful for everything about our life together. The very best part, though, is that it is just that: TOGETHER.

I guess that is why my grown-up self loves Christmas so much. It is the chance to reclaim with my family of origin what I get with my own little gang everyday: togetherness. The fact that I get them both simultaneously—and that my little birds also appreciate them so much—well, that makes the whole deal simply perfect. That togetherness, that presence, is all the gift I need. It is, indeed, a merry, happy, and most grateful Christmas for me!

How about you? What do you value most about the holidays? Open up your journal and think about what makes you giddy and what warms your heart. How excited do the presents make you? How has that changed as you have aged? Do you make a big Wish List? Is there anything you are on pins and needles about this year, something you are really hoping for? Overall, what is the level of importance placed on the “gift” aspect of the holidays in your family? Would you prefer it be more or less important? What about the “togetherness” part? Is the fellowship with your loved ones a big part of your holiday gatherings? How much do you look forward to the time? Is this the one time of the year you gather with these people? Do you do it out of tradition, obligation, pure desire, or some mix of those? Which one is the strongest factor? Has the togetherness aspect become more or less important as you have aged? If you had 100 percentage points to divide between them to show the value you place on Togetherness vs. Gifts, how many points would each get? Are there other things that deserve points on your scale, such as religion or food? Leave me a reply and let me know: What makes your holiday happiest? 

May your days be merry,

William

P.S. If this made you smile, cry, or wonder a little bit, feel free to share it with a friend who could use some of that today.  Namaste.

The Magical Power of Holiday Cards

DSC_1170“The history of your happiness is the history of your feeling connected.” –Vironika Tugaleva 

Hello friend,

My favorite Facebook post of the whole week was the simplest one. It was my friend Veronica, who doesn’t post very often, and all it said was, “I LOVE getting Christmas cards! Don’t you!? Love the pics, love the notes, just love it!” My heart lit up, and the biggest smile came across my face. All I could think was “YES! Absolutely yes! I am not the only one!” I have wondered if anyone else out there still felt the same blend of giddiness and peaceful nostalgia that I do with a holiday card in my hands at this special time of year. If they do, no one seems to mention it anymore. I don’t know how many people still send them, or if digital versions and regular social media posts have overtaken them in popularity. I think it was that sensation of my perhaps-solitary enjoyment of a dying tradition that made me react so strongly to Veronica’s simple but spectacularly positive post. I completely lit up at the thought. I have been so grateful ever since.

What is it about this little piece of mail? Why does it have this magical hold over me? And what is its place in the modern world? Is it just me and Veronica, or does this tradition have other loyal lovers who will keep it alive for future generations? I wonder…

One of my favorite hours of the year comes on a lazy morning at my childhood home on my annual Christmas visit. I grab the basket that my Mom keeps all of that year’s holiday cards in—dozens of them—and find a comfortable chair in a quiet corner to settle in for a while. Even as I love hearing what all of these old family and friends are doing these days, the very reading of it is a wonderful trip down memory lane. I think of the days of old and our time together as I grew from boy to man. It feels good to me in so many ways. I am a chronicler by nature, so I love to hear other people’s accounts of their own lives. And I delight in the thought that these old companions still find it in their hearts to share their journey with us each year. I understand that it may not take much more effort to stuff one more envelope and sign one more card, but it would be easier not to do it. So, I appreciate them sparing us a thought, even if this is the first correspondence since last year’s card.

I was taking a class several months ago, and somehow in his ramblings, the teacher landed momentarily on the topic of holiday cards. He declared that he cuts everyone off his list that he hasn’t spoken to somewhat regularly during the previous year, dismissing the idea of sharing his photos and family updates with people who are virtual strangers from lack of recent personal contact. I was floored! Cut people off just because you don’t talk to them? That would cut my list down to single digits! And those aren’t the people I really want the cards from anyway. I want them from the cousins and old family friends I spent my weekends and Summers with as a kid. I want them from my uncles and aunts who have nicknames for me and whose images fill my golden childhood memories. I want them from my high school buddies, who I still love like brothers but almost never speak to. The truth is, without an old tradition like the holiday card, all of these precious connections could be lost.

Sure, I understand that Facebook and other social media platforms make something that arrives through snail mail seem archaic and useless. After all, you can keep much more up-to-date simply by peeking at a friend’s page, if they are active on the site. Judging by their photos, comments, and shares, you can sometimes get a pretty good sense of what folks are up to and who they have become in the long years since you shared the good old days together. In the less than two years I have been on social media, I have been so pleased at how much better informed I am on the lives of my cousins and old friends and acquaintances, and I’ve been downright tickled at how some online relationships have popped up or flourished out of connections that had long since died out.

Still, there is something not entirely fulfilling about the digital relationship. Something impersonal. Distant. It’s almost as though the messages are cheapened because they are so easy to send, and it’s all done in public view. It’s a little superficial, even when it’s genuine.

And then there is the holiday card. Even though you know the letter and the photo collage are sent to all of their friends, they are also sent to you. Your loved one selected you for their list among all of the people in their life. They wrote your name on the envelope. They spent money to mail it to you. Maybe they even wrote an extra little note on your card. In any case, a real effort was made by someone you love to share themselves with you. You were chosen. That means something.

It’s a simple gesture, and it’s once a year, but there is a special power in the gesture. It gives me the warmest feelings knowing that people from a distant past are still carrying on and at least sparing a thought for me on occasion (enough to keep me on their list, anyway). I am well-aware of how deeply nostalgic I am, so sometimes I think it is only me who remembers fondly so many special characters from my youth. The holiday cards remind me that I am remembered, too.

Such a big part of the magic of the holiday season is gathering with your loved ones, many of whom we see only for this annual celebration. Holiday cards go hand-in-hand with that sentiment: it is a communion with loved ones that happens but once a year. It brings a special kind of joy to the season. Heck, even going out to the mailbox is fraught with excitement and anticipation each day at this time of the year. The MAILBOX! Perhaps that is an indication of how starved we are for connection and communion in this digital world, a world that has made the “old” types of communication—talking to each other and reaching out with a letter—awkward and uncomfortable for most of us. It takes something as archaic as a holiday card to get us to make the effort to reach out, as though we only dare to bridge that social gap when we have the excuse of tradition to make it acceptable. It is a fascinating social phenomenon.

I am so glad that many of us still hold on to that last vestige of the letter-writing age, enough at least to fill the basket at my Mom and Dad’s house and make a small pile on my countertop. It is what drives me to make the time every year to both make the photo collage and write the letter. As I write, I picture in my head all of the people on my list, the faces of friends and family members from a long and beautiful life. It warms my heart and reminds me of the one thing I am so lucky to be: connected.

How about you? How connected are you at this time of the year? Open your journal and explore the way the holidays remind you of your connectedness—or lack thereof—and how that gets expressed. Who do you gather with at this time of year? Is it always the same people? Do you choose this group because you want to or because it is expected of you? Who else would you like to join you for the holidays? If you could wipe the slate clean and choose exactly who would gather at your table, whom would you choose? What is it about the people at your ideal table that brings them there? Are they connected to each other, or are they all just individually special to you? How often do you communicate with these people currently? Do they all know how much they mean to you? What, if anything, keeps you from making that clear? Do you like getting holiday cards and letters? Whose are your favorites? Does a card in the mail mean more to you than an email, text, or Facebook message? Why do you think that is? Is technology on its way to making mailed holiday cards obsolete? Do you send holiday cards? Photo, letter, or both? If you are a sender, what is your motivation? Are you like me and have a desire to stay connected to loved ones from your past–even if it is just the once-a-year tradition–or do you do it more out of obligation? If you don’t send a card, why not? What would it take to get you to send something to more people? On a scale of one to ten, how connected are you to other people? Are you satisfied with that number? Would you be happier with a higher number? What can you do to change it to a number you would like better? The holiday season offers us a good excuse to reach out. A simple card can be the olive branch, the bridge to communion, or the reminder that your love is always there. Leave me a reply and let me know: Who will you connect with this year? 

Trade in your walls for bridges today,

William

P.S. If there someone in your life you need to reach out to, share this letter with them. Then let them know how much they mean to you. You will not regret it.

Sleepwalking Through Life, or Sucking the Marrow Out of It: What Will You Regret?

DSC_0148“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.” –Henry David Thoreau

Hello friend,

Isn’t it amazing how differently we see the other ages of our life when we get some years away from them? I think it is safe to say that we all look back at our high school years—the continuous flow of earth-shaking drama weaving its way through every day and every interaction—and think of how silly and insignificant it all was in the grand scheme of things. Most of us—myself definitely included—look at our old girlfriends and boyfriends and laugh at how wrong we were for each other, even though it seemed so right at the time. The years of separation provide fascinating insights (and hopefully some good laughs to go with the invaluable lessons).

I find myself now at a unique junction in the story of my life. The different chapters from past and future are converging in my mind. It is a perfect storm. For one, in The Journal Project, I am studying my daily journals from 1997, which was a truly revolutionary and magical time in my mind and, thus, my life. My foundation of deep and lasting happiness was being built in those days, and reading back through them is again making a deep impact on my current perspective.   The bar was set high.

The second thing brewing is that I am at a crossroads with the different jobs that make up the “career” portion of my little world. Even though it has been a year since I left my original career as a tennis coach, the job I transitioned to has been something of a holding pattern, meant not to fulfill my biggest career aspirations but instead to fulfill my parenting aspiration to give my kids the most of my time and energy. It has worked wonderfully for that, and I am so glad I made the move when I did. However, it is coming to the end of its run, forcing me to take a long look at what I have done and what I could do in the future. I am in one of those moments that will shape the long course of my existence. I want to do it right. I don’t want any regrets.

Needless to say, I have a lot swirling around in my mind these days. I think back to a time almost fourteen years ago when I had to make—and make quickly—a career move. I had just quit graduate school–deciding that it wasn’t the life for me–and needed to figure out what was next. I needed not just a job but something that might be a career. In brainstorming the options, I allowed myself a momentary fantasy of working as a writer, sharing my message with the world and making the kind of difference I hoped I was capable of. Fear and uncertainty squashed that fantasy in a hurry. I knew nothing about how to get into it, and I didn’t believe enough in my talent to bet my future on it. Instead, I turned to my first love and something I had always enjoyed (even though I had never considered it as a possible career): teaching tennis.

I loved it. I had always felt completely in my element when teaching others, and getting to be involved in the best part of someone’s day while sharing my love of the game was immensely gratifying. It was work I could see myself doing for a long time. And I did.

About eleven years down the road, though, my mind began to change. My love for tennis and teaching didn’t diminish, and I was still deeply happy in my life (which, by then, included a wife and two kids). But something that had been dormant was awakening inside me. A giant was stirring. Questions began arising: What is your Bliss? Are you giving your Gift? Are you doing the work you feel called to do? What would you do if money was not an issue? What would you do if you weren’t scared? What is your soul telling you? Soon these questions were all that I could hear? The sleeping giant had awoken. I had to face him.

I started by admitting that even though I enjoyed and appreciated my work as a coach, it wasn’t my true calling. It was a shadow career, something that fills many of the requirements of a calling but is not it. I also had to come to grips with the fact that happiness was not enough for me. I figured happiness was an achievement of the mind and that I was blessed with the ability to be happy in any circumstance. I wanted not just happiness; I wanted fulfillment, too.

I vowed then to listen to my heart. If something made my heart sing, I would follow it. I began The Journal Project with no idea where it would lead me. I just knew I loved it and that it resonated deep down in that place where the giant had been sleeping. And as I read through the daily entries from all of the years of my adulthood, I saw all of these signs that told me—sometimes in the plainest English—that writing and sharing my message was my dream job. I wanted to help people to grow and be their best, happiest selves. I was doing a version of that in my coaching career, but not as fully and directly as I envisioned it when the writing aspect was added to it.

The ship has been slow to turn. It turns out that rediscovering my Bliss did not necessarily make it much easier to follow. I still had two little kids and a job to put food on the table. Time was short, and though I worked hard at it, progress was slow. In trying to keep with my plan of changing lives in a bigger way, I started Life Coach training, which was right up my alley. Then I added the skin care business, hoping this would eventually lead me to more time and financial freedom to pursue my writing. All of this was happening while I transitioned out of tennis and into my current job around my kids’ schedule.   Hence, the slow-turning ship.

And now I arrive at this perfect storm of circumstances: lots of reflection about my past combining with my current job nearing its end. There are large decisions to be made, and uncertainty about the future is rampant. My biggest takeaway from all of this journal-reading is that when I had that moment fourteen years ago to make a career move and chose the more certain route—totally bowing to the fear and self-doubt around my writing prospects—I went into what I can now see was a long period of sleepwalking. Happy sleepwalking, but still sleepwalking. Only when I started questioning myself and the giant awoke did I start to listen to my soul and return to my passion. With The Journal Project and Journal of You, I am getting to the juicy, fulfilling stuff. I hear my friend Thoreau clearly: “It is life near the bone where it is sweetest.”

So, can I really do it? Could I achieve the magic double of making a real paycheck AND fulfilling my deepest passions simultaneously? If I let go of my other business ventures and gave all of the available time and energy to the writing, I am quite sure of the fulfillment part. The uncertainty is in the paycheck part. Do I dare bet on myself if my family’s financial stability is the cost? If I don’t bet on myself by doggedly pursuing my purpose, can I live with the alternative? And, perhaps equally important, if I cannot afford to go all-in on the dream, can I keep enough of it alive that I don’t spend the next dozen years sleepwalking? I don’t think I could bear the regret if I re-awoke to this same feeling at age 55. I must get to the marrow!

How about you? How awake are you as you pass through your life? Open up your journal and explore your relationship with your Bliss. What is your Bliss? What lights up your heart and makes your soul sing? What role does your Bliss play in your everyday life? Are you doing it all day in your job or just squeezing it into your spare time as a hobby? It is in there somewhere, right? Whatever your current level of engagement with your dreams and your purpose, how can you make it greater? What kinds of things can you do to make sure it is included in your regular schedule? Is it enough for you to follow your Bliss as a hobby—e.g. writing a blog or volunteering with children on the weekends—or do you feel it is essential that you incorporate that calling into your primary pursuit or career? How big of a leap would it take to turn your passion into your profession? Which is bigger: the psychological risk, or the financial risk? Is simply “being happy” enough for you as a goal for life? And finally, how aware of your dreams and your calling are you on a daily basis? As you can tell, this occupies a lot of space in my thoughts—at least it has for the past few years since I woke up—but I don’t know how it is for everyone else. So leave me a reply and let me know: How conscious are you of your passion and purpose, and how well are you living it?

 This life is your big chance,

William

P.S. If this speaks to you, perhaps it would speak to your loved ones. Share freely.

The Letter I Wrote To Never Send

DSC_0543“A letter is always better than a phone call. People write things in letters they would never say in person. They permit themselves to write down feelings and observations using emotional syntax far more intimate and powerful than speech will allow.” –Alice Steinbach

Hello friend,

I love letters! You remember letters, right? They were written on paper and you got them in your mailbox. They came from people who thought enough of you to take the time to not just write to you but also to buy a stamp and put them in the mail. You could save them in a special shoebox under your bed and bring them out when you were in the mood to feel that person again. In that way, letters achieved something we all long for: timelessness.

I have only one problem: I never send them anymore. Email came along and brought a convenience and immediacy that letters couldn’t compete with. Then social media took that convenience and immediacy to a whole new level. Like Main Street small businesses when Wal-Mart comes to town, letters have withered and died on the vine in our digital age. One thing that instant messages will never have, however, is the thing that letters had in spades: timelessness.

On a picture perfect afternoon in Rome, eighteen Autumns ago, I emptied myself wholly onto several pages in blue ink. It was a letter to my brother, Jacques. He and I, quite frankly, hadn’t been very close for most of my life, but he was nonetheless a hero figure to me. He had a magnetic personality. He was always doing such cool things in the outdoors. And, he was a writer, which I highly romanticized. We had only just begun in recent months to connect in conversations, and I truly revered him. Quite simply, he was a mythic figure to me, and I fancied the idea that he might be interested in my journey, both on the map and in the landscape of my soul.

I was in the midst of my epic journey across Europe–my first and greatest–and my mind and spirit were absolutely on fire with growth and discovery. Although I had been journaling for a few years by then, it had been very sporadic. The start of that epic adventure with my backpack, however, marked the start of my daily practice that has continued all these years. And I was filling up the pages like a madman. It was almost as though I had opened up the top of my head and was simply pouring it all out in the white pages of my new best friend. I was the embodiment of “high on life,” in the midst of a full-blown spiritual revolution that had me nearly unable to catch my breath several times per day. It was a truly extraordinary time, as I was seemingly communing with God.

God, and no one else. I traveled alone through strange lands and languages, and I spoke to my parents only occasionally for a few brief moments as the phone card ran itself out like water down a drain. My outlet was my journal. But on that beautiful Italian afternoon eighteen Autumns ago, I wanted to write a letter. I wanted to share what I had been experiencing. I wanted to tell my story. But I also didn’t want to share my story. I wanted to keep it close to my heart, where the journey really was taking place.

So, I compromised. I wrote the letter to my brother, but I wrote it into my journal, where it would remain forever. I realized that I just wanted to write the letter to clear my mind, like the way a storyteller wants to unload the latest baby of his imagination, just to get it out there and let it go. And so, on a Tuesday in Rome, with my brother squarely in my thoughts, I opened my second journal to its last handful of pages, and I began:

3:54PM Tuesday October 21, 1997 Roma, Italia

Dearest Brother

I am sitting here on the Spanish Steps, and Bob Dylan is playing in my head: “Oh the streets of Rome are filled with rubble…From the Spanish Steps to the….” I have not and probably will not write a letter or postcard on this trip, but it seems like the one I am always talking to when I pretend to write one is you. For whatever that means, here is my letter. It cannot be put into words what an amazing adventure I am having. The feeling I have each day is really quite indescribable. I believe it is what is commonly referred to as “unreasonable happiness.” Honestly I do not know where to begin. I suppose a chronological trail might be best. After my excellent stay in New York, Amsterdam was where the plane dropped me first. It is said that the best trip to Amsterdam is the one you don’t remember, but it was still pretty cool in a sober state, though the smell from the coffee shops was enough for a bit of a buzz. I didn’t go so far as watching a “real live sex act,” but I did go to the Sex Museum and through the red light district , where all the whores lean out of the doors and their two-high glass apartments wearing only high heels, bra, and panties. I laughed my ass off. After less than a day in Minneapolis-like Hanover, I headed down to Munich and those crazy German stein-hoisters decked out in the full Clark Griswald get-up, as it was Oktoberfest. It was damn wild as both men and women slugged down massive amounts of beer in mugs that looked like they weighed 50 pounds, empty. Germany is a lot like Wisconsin in the north and central parts, while in the south it reminds me a bit more of the eastern states of New York, Pennsylvania, and Virginia. Itching to get down to the sea, but not wanting to miss anything, I took the rails down to Vienna. It is a majestic old city, with all evidence from its days as the capital of a great empire still intact. I walked the amazing lawns of a castle and took in an opera for two bucks. Salzburg was next. Set in a Bozeman-type landscape, check out “quaint” in Webster’s and you might find a picture of this beautiful city. Westward through the Tirol region and on to Switzerland I rode, through clearly the most beautiful landscape I have found here. It’s like the most beautiful part of Montana everywhere. Perhaps “Paradise Valley with steeper, more beautiful mountains” is a better description. Switzerland was beautiful and expensive, and the Great Sea was calling, so I ascended and descended the Alps into this amazing land called Italy. I was in love immediately and vowed to learn the language when I returned to the States. And the air was so thick, with the sea, the passion, the garlic, and the love. I was intoxicated. The boat landed me in Greece, and I was wondering if the correct spelling wasn’t actually Grease. It is essentially a desert, with only its history and the Great Sea as attributes. I was glad to see the ruins of Athens, but more happy to hop on that boat bound for the islands. If you have ever seen a postcard of Greece, with the brilliant blue sea as a backdrop for little whitewashed dwellings with blue shutters and doors, it was not the mainland. The islands are essentially deserts as well, but the villages are charming and that amazing water is all around. It is clear like the waters at Glacier, and the sun portrays your shadow on the bottom, even in deep water. The first night I got there, the surface was ripe for waterskiing and I just had to take a dive through the cool night air. I was whooping and howling at the moon, my version of whistling zippity-doo-da out of my asshole. It was a welcome relief from hauling my pack around and sleeping in a different bed every night. And I was a savage within a few days. Oh, was I peaceful. I laid on the black sand and listened to those light waves gently lapping at the shore. After my ten-day “vacation” on three islands, I spent three dreary nights on boats and trains to get me here to Roma. But what a reward for my troubles. It is a wonderful city. Though I believe Venice is the most beautiful city I have ever seen, I hear that my next two stops, Florence and Siena, give it a run for its money. That was a pretty superficial brush-over of it all, but it is not the places that are most important but rather the experiences and growth the journey offers. And I have had much of both. What I am most happy to report is that I have written an incredible amount. When I left I didn’t even conceive of finishing this book before the trip was done, but here I am with two pages to go and a month left of travels. I have written a minimum of two pages every single day since I left home, and it seems to increase with each day’s passing. I have put down my first three short stories, thanks to the inspiration of one Mr. Ernest Hemingway. They are so damn fun to write! One night in Vienna I was writing an essay on withdrawing from the world to draw closer to God, and some remarkable ideas came into my mind. It was an unbelievable experience. I was sweating. My heart was racing. I couldn’t get the pen to move fast enough. It was a true revelation. In the end I had the idea for my first book and a depleted supply of adrenaline. I have felt for some months now that I am growing closer and closer to God. I have really ceased using my mind for the intellectual, in the controlling manner I once did. I use it now as a channel to the higher world. I shut up and listen for the way. I find myself increasingly in tune with the Lord. There is no tension, no obstruction in the channel. Everything feels so very right at every moment in my life. All of the energy that flows is of the positive nature. The secrets are showing themselves to me more clearly with each passing day. The result of it all is that “unreasonable happiness” I spoke of earlier. But that’s the whole thing. I have realized this “unreasonable” thing is the one to which we are intended to feel always. This is the will of God. In our world we have made it seem so unreachable, but it is right there for us. All we need to do is change our minds! It’s not easy, but it is truly simple. Enough of the sermon, but I just want everyone to be feeling the way I do. My time is coming and is here now. The world will be a better place for my time here. This much I know. The guy I stayed with in New York said I could choose three paperbacks for the trip. On The Road, Hemingway’s Short Stories, and The Portable Emerson were the winners, and I because of them. In barely over two weeks I had finished the Kerouac and the Hemingway. I couldn’t put them down. I was so in love with Sal and Dean in the Kerouac. This is raw life. It was so romantic. And the Hemingway was simply brilliant. As soon as time permits I will be into his novels. Now my guidebook of Europe, the Emerson, and my 900-page History of Western Philosophy keep me fully occupied. Mostly I’m writing now though. I love it more than I can say. It feels like my avenue toward helping the world. Who can say? I am just so happy to be who I am and doing what I am. And I am so very happy for your presence in my life. I love you so much, Jacques. You may never physically see this land called Europe, but you will have been here, because you travel always with me. God bless. Always, Willy

That letter was therapy for me somehow. It was therapy on the day that I wrote it, and it was therapy again this week, when I came across it while working on The Journal Project. I think all letters are therapy in a way. Like the quote at the top says, we allow ourselves to express things in letters that we would not—or could not—otherwise express. And so, whether I actually decide to send them or not, maybe it is time I sat down and wrote my words for someone specific. Maybe it will even be worthy of a shoebox under a bed far, far away, there basking in its most treasured state: timelessness.

How about you? Is there a letter inside of you, dying to get out? Open up your journal and think about the people you are compelled to share yourself with. Who is on your short list? Are they mostly people whom you have lost contact with? Or, rather, are they people currently in your life—perhaps family members—whom you would like to have a deeper relationship with? Is there someone you should write to strictly for therapeutic reasons, even if you never intend to send it? Perhaps it is someone who has hurt you deeply and who you need to forgive in order to find peace. Perhaps it is someone you have long needed to thank. Perhaps it is God. Why do you think we express ourselves so much more clearly—and daringly—in letters rather than conversation? Is it the time to prepare the words precisely? Maybe it is the distance away from the audience, knowing we are safe from the initial reaction? Is it the intimacy of immediate feedback that we fear? I know that I am much braver with the pen and keyboard than I am with my mouth. Do you save old letters? Whom would you most like to receive a letter from now? Imagine going to the mailbox tomorrow and finding a letter from that person: the warmth and gratitude you would feel knowing that you were deep in their thoughts and in their heart. Who might be the person whose day you could make by writing to them? Are you ready? Leave me a reply and let me know: Who will get your letter? 

Give your gift today,

William

P.S. If you were touched by this, I encourage you to share it. We need each other’s best!

Using Facebook As Match.com For Friendships: Searching for Real Human Interaction in the Digital Age

DSC_0518“You can’t stay in your corner of the Forest waiting for others to come to you. You have to go to them sometimes.” –A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh  

Hello friend,

I have a new fantasy woman in my life. She’s super smart, creative, and funny. The way she strings her words together makes my mind light up and my face smile. She comes from a wonderful family and puts great value there, just like I do. Oh, and did I mention that she is also totally beautiful? I can comfortably say she is out of my league. But what the heck, I am going for it! She has all the makings of a true gem, a diamond in the rough. Women like this don’t come along every day. I must stick my neck out and risk the rejection. I have to take the chance!

Sure, I am happily married. So why is this woman living in my head and making me excited to reach out and talk to her? What do I want from her? The answer is simple: Friendship. I want her to be my friend. Well, more precisely, I want to find out if she could be a true friend. I want to connect with her—actually speak to her, even if on the phone—and see if she is actually as cool and deep and inspiring as she seems to be from our few brief online exchanges and a long history as childhood acquaintances. I feel like I have a good sense of her, but I realize that you never really know from a few emails or Facebook comments. Maybe we take that skeleton and fill in all of the rest of the heart and soul and guts with our own minds, romanticizing (or demonizing) the people we have these familiar-yet-distant online relationships with, making them into whomever we want or need them to be. I am aware of that very real possibility in this case, and that is why I am determined to find out.

It requires a social risk, though. In this digital age, we are all used to having relationships that are very friendly but that are also at arms’ length. Facebook, Instagram, and the like have allowed us to connect with new people and reconnect with our old classmates and co-workers. We like and comment on each other’s posts and, in the process, we build and/or keep good feelings toward one another. It’s a great deal. I love it!

As a relative newbie to social media—I’ve been on Facebook for a year-and-a-half and just opened an Instagram account but have no idea what to do with it—I have been amazed at how much I have enjoyed learning what my old elementary and high school classmates are doing. Because I am a terrible friend and haven’t kept up well with anyone from any phase of my life, I was very skeptical about Facebook going into it. I couldn’t imagine why someone would send me a Friend Request if we aren’t actual, current friends, and entering into these relationships seemed really awkward to me, even phony. I was completely out of my water. Much to my surprise, however, it turns out that I LOVE reading about my old schoolmates and seeing their photos. It has helped me to stay better connected to the few people who I still considered to be my friends—even if we had neglected each other for too long—and it has given me a new window into the lives of people I didn’t know well enough, some of whom I still had very fond impressions of.

That brings me to the people like my new fantasy woman. I wrote to you a while back about “The Facebook ‘Friends’ You Wish Were Your Real Friends,” mentioning a handful of people from my (mostly distant) past—some of whom I did not know very well even when I “knew” them–whose Facebook posts I love and who seem like the kind of people I would love to gather in the same room with to see if we might save the world together. Just like the title of that post says, I wish they were my real friends. Well, at least I wish my ideas of them were my real friends. This is where I think social media can be at its finest. Perhaps this thing called Facebook—or Twitter or Instagram or whatever else I know nothing about—is like a global friendship screening system. We can become “friends” with hundreds of people on there, and hopefully from those hundreds we find a special few who make it onto to our wish list.

The question is: What do you do about these people? Do you keep them at the necessary arms’ length distance of a social media relationship, enjoying their posts and occasionally sharing a good-hearted comment exchange, maybe even a private message? OR, do you take a social risk and ask to meet up with one of them—either in person or on the phone—to just talk. You know, the way humans used to do it.

We are increasingly and rapidly losing our social skills in this digital age, which makes it feel awkward and dangerous to make that step of inviting an actual engagement with another person, a real conversation. But that also makes it so much more important that we make this connection. We need more genuine human interaction. Conversations from the heart. Diving deep into another’s life story. A look at the world through their eyes, walking that proverbial mile in their shoes.

I know I need it. I lack that connection in my life. I am cut off. I usually write it off to my introversion, hiding behind my insecurity and my love of solitude to justify why I don’t open up or reach out. Historically, I have tended to see myself as the oddball, though, the only one who stands alone. Lately, however, I have been seeing it—and feeling it—in others all around me, wherever adults happen to gather. I watch the parents on the soccer sidelines and at the bus stop. I am not the only one who shies away. It feels distant and awkward between almost everyone. It’s like we don’t know how to talk to each other anymore. It is a great disconnect.

This great disconnect–whether it is spreading like a virus for the modern age or I am just noticing it more–is precisely why I believe in not just making that “Turning a ‘Friend’ into a FRIEND” list but also in doing something about it. Suggesting a meeting or a phone conversation. Actually finding out if you have a fantasy figure created mostly in your head—as I do—or a potential dear friend for life. That is what I decided to do this week. My fantasy woman and I exchanged a couple of messages on a topic, and I was so enthralled with her ideas that I asked her if we could set up a phone call so I could hear more of her thoughts and her life story. I felt weird asking it. After all, in the arms’ length world, each of us has some romantic image of a soulful, creative genius on the other end of the screen. Maybe finally speaking will burst both of our bubbles. Maybe it will just be great catching up but left as a one-shot deal.

But maybe not. Maybe we are destined to teach each other great lessons or collaborate on a world-changing project. Maybe we will be the best of friends. Whatever it is, the social risk seems worth it. A true human connection is something you can’t put a price on. If it happens, I just won the jackpot. If it doesn’t, well, it’s just another day without it. We haven’t had the call yet, but I assure you that the excitement I feel in anticipation is well worth any letdown I will feel if it doesn’t work out. I am that hungry for a connection of my soul.

How about you? How hungry are you for a deep friendship? Open up your journal and think about your online relationships. Which ‘friends’ would you like to make your true friends? What is it about them that resonates with you? What draws you in? Do you have a little dialogue going with them already, whether through comments on each other’s posts or private messages? How much of a social risk would it be for you to propose a meeting or phone conversation to get to know each other better? What do you think they would say? What do you have to gain from reaching out? I understand the other side is the pain of rejection, but answer me this: what do you have to gain from doing nothing? Which gain is more valuable to you: a true, deep friendship or a more superficial but always positive online relationship? How authentic do you think most people’s social media personas are? Do you think you have an accurate read on your friend list from their posts and comments? Is it possible to have a deep relationship with someone online only? Have you ever pursued a relationship because of social media content? Do you have that one fantasy friend who you are just sure that you are meant to be besties with? What keeps you from making that connection happen? Leave me a reply and let me know: Who is your social media fantasy, and what are you going to do about it? 

Love is worth a risk,

William

P.S. If this speaks to you, please share.  You never know who it might connect you with!

All-In, or Hedge Your Bets? A Question for Dreamers

DSC_0769“Nothing shapes your life more than the commitments you choose to make.” –Rick Warren

Hello friend,

In the questions I wrote to you at the end of last week’s letter, I somehow scratched the surface of a topic I have been denying for a very long time. That scratch, however small, has broken open this week, revealing a massive abscess that has been festering far too long in the buried depths of my mind, where I had tried to keep it. Denial is a powerful force, and despite my philosophy of life being based on self-knowledge and the complete ownership, acceptance, and celebration of who I am, I have used the cancerous powers of denial to escape accountability for failing at my biggest of dreams. In that failure, I have been false to my Truth, not allowing the best parts of me to shine through to be used to their fullest to serve the world.

I have been frustrated with the Universe. I have grumbled about the unfairness of Life, how it does not allow me enough time to pursue my passions fully in order to help me maximize my potential. If I can blossom—I have often thought to myself—what I have to give can help to “save the world” and make for a more peaceful, authentic, and happy existence for so many. But the Universe—with its mere 24 hours in a day and bills to pay and soccer practices to get to and such—is not supporting me in that. It is not making it easy on me. It is not, as it turns out, a wish-granting factory. That is extremely annoying to me. It makes it feel like a conspiracy against my dreams, with all of my efforts to advance being thwarted by the constrictions of time, money, and obligations.

So it was that I arrived at the last paragraph of last week’s letter to you, which was about whether or not I had moved any closer to my dreams in the last year. The pertinent questions started flowing out of my mind, things I wanted to ask you so that you might dig deep and know yourself more fully. Then, out of my fingers came the question that opened up the long-festering issue that, in a lot of ways, defines my existence: Does it make any sense in this crazy-busy world of ours to have more than one thing that you are really passionate about and want to give your time and energy to? It stopped me in my tracks. It was like I walked face-first into a wall. I couldn’t help but just stare at the question in front of me. Psychologically, my defenses started to go up. “The question is for the reader. Just move on. Finish the letter!” But here I sit, one week later, and I haven’t moved on.

I think I have written this story before, but it bears repeating. A few years ago, when I was in the midst of my revival of my passions and really full of energy to finally start living my purpose on this Earth before it is too late, I used to read a blog every day called “The Daily Love” by Mastin Kipp, that was all about those kinds of thoughts. Well, one day, Mastin posted a video of himself as the subject of an interview by his girlfriend. At the end, she asked him if he had one thing he hadn’t said or would really like to say to his audience. He turned directly into the camera and, after a warning to remove the children from the room, said, “F*#%ing ditch Plan B!! Go all-in on Plan A! Plan B is a f*#%ing distraction from your dreams. When you go all-in on Plan A, not only will Plan A happen, it will be better, because what The Divine has in store for you is so much greater than you can possibly imagine and it’s not going to look anything like you want. Please ditch Plan B.”

It was like a jolt of electricity went right up my spine. The goosebumps were immediate. He was talking to me. He found my weak spot. I thought of my writing dreams immediately. I was energized and eager to go all-in on the spot. But then the fears, doubts, and excuses started creeping in: “Yeah, but I have kids to feed and bills to pay; I can’t just go ALL-in.” I hated that thought, but I gave it credence. So I kept on in my usual ways.

Sure, I pressed harder on my dreams, but I kept them dispersed pretty widely. I started my Life Coaching training, which is directly related to my big dream of writing to change people’s lives. I took a career move that would reduce stress and distractions and allow me more time with my kids and more energy for my other pursuits, including writing. Then, I also started my skin care business, which was intended to free up more time and energy in the long run for the writing. All of these things have been positives in theory—they speak to my heart and are intended to help the cause—but they also have taken up tons of time and energy. As I look at them now, I can see that, at their core, they are my Plan B, Plan C, and Plan D. They are safety nets. Enjoyable and meaningful safety nets, but still, at the end of the day, just safety nets.

I have been dodging this issue of just going all-in on Plan A for all these years behind my justification that I need to keep guaranteed money coming in so the bills can be paid. It’s a legitimate-sounding excuse, and I have clung to it with all my rationality. And hey, maybe I still should. Is it selfish to take a financial risk for my family in order to pursue my personal dream? How does one give himself permission for that? Is it brave to do so, or merely self-indulgent?

I am wondering, though, if it is just plain cowardice that keeps me from narrowing my options to Plan A/writing only. Am I scared that if I go all-in and can’t make it go, that I will have blown all of my options and left my family without income? Or maybe I am scared that failing at my biggest dream will be a devastating blow to my ego, as I will have no excuses if I have focused all my energies on it. Now I have built-in excuses because I don’t “have” time to devote myself fully to the writing. What I am doing is still not making my dream happen, but I guess I am making that more palatable by bleeding slowly out rather than being bombed to bits by going all-in and failing. The more I think about it, the more cowardly this seems. It is weak. I know there is the family excuse—and I could stomach this course much less easily if I was single—but that is not sufficient.

So, what am I going to do? Is my shame from the admission of cowardice going to be enough to get me to change course, to throw caution to the wind, eliminate my other interests and potential income sources, and go single-mindedly at my writing as though there is no other option for me? Honestly, I don’t know if I can do that. I hate how scared I am about staying financially afloat. On the other hand, I hate how far I feel from making my big dream come true. And frankly, I am greedy. I want to be able to pursue all of my passions and interests at the same time. I have said before that I am spoiled. I feel like there should be time for everything that I want. I understand that I probably have more hobbies, curiosities, and passions than most people, and darn it, I want the Universe to accommodate the way it made me. I don’t want to “be realistic” and narrow my allowances to only one pursuit because that is all the clock says there is time for. I want to be me: idealistic, optimistic, and fully believing that I am going to change the world with more than one of my gifts. Perhaps I am delusional. Perhaps the combination of my spoiled nature, my greed, and my delusions will keep me from ever going all-in on my biggest dream and thus keep me from ever really succeeding in the way I imagine that I will. But maybe this letter has been the beginning of something for me. Maybe in finally stepping out of my denial and facing this issue head-on for the first time, I will actually make a move toward “reality” and narrow my focus to writing only. Perhaps it is not a bridge too far for me. I am glad to have at least begun the negotiations.

How about you? Have you gone all-in on your biggest dream, or do you spread yourself thin amongst other things that don’t speak to your soul as loudly and clearly? Open up your journal and think about your version of reality and what that allows you to do. What is your Plan A? When you close your eyes and imagine yourself in your dream job and giving your gifts to the fullest, what do you see? How dedicated are you to this vision now? Are you either living it or making your best efforts to see to it that you will get there as soon as possible? If not, why not? What holds you back? Is it the usual trappings of a secure job and needing to keep a certain lifestyle going, or is it a lack of self-belief? Do you believe that if you put all of your eggs in the basket of your biggest dream, that you would succeed at that dream? How sure are you, either of failing or succeeding? Could your gift make the world a better place? Does your answer to that question influence how passionate you are in pursuing it? How much denial do you live with around this issue of your dream and your life purpose? If it is true that most of us are not doing well in the pursuit of our passions but have instead settled for something “safer,” doesn’t that suggest that we must live pretty deep in denial? After all, how well could we live with ourselves if we consciously ignored our calling? Not well, I am guessing. So, back to my original question: how many passionate pursuits do you think we are allowed in this lifetime? Is it best just to stick to one? What is one thing you can do today that moves you closer to your Plan A? What are some aspects of your Plan B or C or D that you are willing to give up in order to put more resources into your Plan A? What is the worst that could happen by going all-in on Plan A? Could you live with that most negative outcome? Leave me a reply and let me know: Are YOU ready to go all-in on you? 

You are worth your best,

William

P.S. If this post spoke to you and made you think deeper about who you are, please share it with others who might appreciate it. Let’s raise self-awareness together! Thank you.

The Birthday Question: Am I Any Closer To My Dreams This Year?

DSC_1153“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do.” –H. Jackson Brown Jr.

Hello friend,

It’s my birthday weekend! In the midst of celebrating with my family and the accompanying sugar coma, my birthday tends to be a contemplative time, too. I think a lot about how my life is going, highlights and lowlights from the previous year, and what more I want to do before my time on Earth runs out. One thing I never really wonder about anymore is how happy I am. I haven’t had to question that in many years. I am aware of it, of course, because of my daily journaling, but it’s pretty clear to me that my happiness runs deep. With that question not weighing on my mind, I have found myself this weekend pondering a different idea. The issue I really want to settle up with myself on is this: With all of my passion and my blog posts about getting people to identify their dreams and take steps to live them, have I moved any closer to my OWN dreams since my last birthday?

Hmmm…that’s a tough one. Well, maybe it’s not so tough to figure out, but it is almost certainly going to be tough to accept the truth of the answer. On first blush, I would say that I haven’t moved anywhere, that my dreams are just as far away on this birthday as they were on my last. After all, I am still not making any money as a writer. Or as a speaker. Or as a coach. Okay, this exercise is already depressing me! It can’t be as bad as it looks on the surface. Or can it? I actually feel better about where I’m headed than what the surface says, so there must be something to be found with a deeper look.

Because I need to hear some good news after that dreary peek at the surface, I am going to start with the positives. First and foremost, my passion for my kids and to be the best father I can be is going quite well. I am working completely around their schedules, and we are getting tons of quality time. That is my biggest win by far. I’ll take it! That one is sort of in a separate category, though, different—but should it be???—from my career aspirations and the other drumbeats of my soul. So, I am claiming it as a definite positive but keeping it in its own discussion for now.

How about the rest of those hopes and dreams? Well, at my last birthday, I was early in my first class in my new pursuit: Life Coaching. How has that venture progressed? On the positive side, I worked very hard for several months, learned a lot, and greatly improved my coaching. And I loved the work and the difference it made in people’s lives. Yeah! On the downside, as Summer approached and Life got busier than I wanted it to, instead of doing my usual routine of trying to do everything but not having enough time to do anything well, I actually made the conscious decision to put my training and business start-up on the back burner while other things took center stage. Even though I know what my next class choice is—I even bought the textbook already—I haven’t felt free enough to pull the trigger on enrolling yet. So, on the Coaching front, I am mostly giving myself a failing grade because of the way I am currently stalled. It is disappointing.

I guess that when trying to determine how well I have done in a year in my big dream areas—my big rocks–it takes a multi-dimensional perspective. It is not just about where I am in relation to the goal. I must also take into consideration which direction I am heading and how much momentum I have going that direction. With the Life Coaching, for example, I actually made a lot of progress from where I was a year ago, but right now I don’t feel so good about it because I am essentially stalled out, carrying no momentum in the direction of my goal.

How about my big dream: writing? Well, one thing that is conclusively positive is that I have worked consistently hard at getting these letters out to you each week, building up the library of posts nearer to the level of potentially creating a book out of them one day. I quite like some of them, and I definitely feel like Journal of You is going in the right direction. Yeah!

My other major writing project—what I call “TJP”, short for The Journal Project—is a different story altogether. This labor or love has sat dormant for much of the year due to time constraints, which truly pains my heart on a daily basis. I am miles and miles from my goal. That stinks! On the other hand, I have been more diligent about it in recent weeks and am ever more determined that it is a worthwhile endeavor. So, while the position is terrible, the direction and momentum are trending positive, which somehow makes me feel pretty good about it. (As it turns out, I find that the direction/momentum thing holds more sway over my attitude than does my actual proximity to the goal. I could be right near the goal, but if I am not feeling myself going passionately that way at the moment, I don’t feel good about my situation. But even if I am only at the beginning of a long haul—and TJP is a very long haul—if I am rolling and believing, I am loving that situation.)

I have tried so hard to be single-minded on these priorities and not allow for distractions and laziness to creep in. My dreams don’t suffer those well at all. Time is of the essence, and I hate when I am not on task. However, somehow a wildcard entered my life this year and threw everything for a loop, stealing time and energy from the other big rocks that I have mentioned (it reminds me of the old Allen Saunders quote “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”). My skincare business seemed to just fall into my lap, and I have been wrestling with it ever since. On the one hand, I am resentful of it for stealing that time and energy from my more obvious dreams. On the other hand, I can’t help but see that it has the potential to return all of that time and energy—not to mention income and fulfillment—back to me in the future. So, it is a tough one for me, as I am not at all a compromiser and hate to see my other priorities get sacrificed in the least. And where am I with this one anyway? Well, it was not at all in my life on my last birthday, so by default you could say I am way far into it and doing well. In reality, I have a long ways to go before I feel I am doing well with it. And while I am headed in the right direction, momentum is tough to come by. The jury is out.

So, am I closer to my dreams here on my 43rd birthday than I was on my 42nd, or am I just a year closer to the grave? Maybe some of each. On the Life Coaching front, I am actually closer but am feeling further away. On my writing, I am closer, but not nearly as close as I hoped I would be. Depending upon one’s perspective, my glass could easily appear either half-full or half-empty. The results of my wildcard may determine to a great degree which view is correct, but I am going to go with the positive side anyway. Though the big results are not there yet, it has never been more clear to me that I am working on things that speak to my soul and are going to be of service to others. That means the world to me. And even though I feel the frustration and deep disappointment of leaving important pursuits out of my schedule, I am comforted by the fact that the tasks battling for my time and attention are things that I love to do. So, yes, maybe I am a little bit closer to my dreams on this birthday. I will just keep following my heart, one grinding step at a time. Surely my dreams will materialize along the way if I just keep going. Right???

How about you? How much closer have you moved toward your hopes and dreams in the past year? Open up your journal and give yourself a little Year in Review. Relative to your biggest dreams and the life you have imagined, where were you one year ago? Were you only beginning to consider your dreams, or were you already living the dream? What has happened since? Have you taken any bold steps or a giant leap of faith, or have yours been baby steps? Have you taken steps backward? Toward which dream have your biggest strides been made? How many different “big dream” categories do you have? Does it make any sense in this crazy-busy world of ours to have more than one thing that you are really passionate about and want to give your time and energy to? How willing are you to put one of your dreams on the back burner to pursue the others? How long are you able to neglect one of your big dreams before it starts to affect you, before you start feeling guilty or antsy or depressed? In relation to your big dreams, where do you think you will be next year compared to where you are now? A lot closer? A little? “Further away” is NOT one of your choices! Dreams give us hope. The pursuit of our dreams gives us life. It is my deepest hope that you are in hot pursuit of yours. Are you? Leave me a reply and let me know: Have you closed the gap on your dreams this year?

Don’t ever stop,

William

P.S. If this post resonates with you, I would greatly appreciate it if you would share it with your family and friends via social media or old-fashioned word-of-mouth. My hope is to positively impact as many people as possible every week, and I need your help to do that. Thanks in advance for your support.

Swimming Upstream: My Inability to Go With The Flow of LIFE

DSC_1074“Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Don’t resist them; that only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality. Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like.” —Lao Tzu

Hello friend,

That Lao Tzu was one wise dude! Just look at that quote above. “Natural…don’t resist…let reality be…let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like.” It all sounds so easy and relaxing. Heck, it calms me just to read the words! It is completely rational, too: resisting the realities of Life definitely makes things harder (or “creates sorrow,” as the sage would say). I am in complete agreement with the concept of letting it go and letting it flow. Acceptance of what is. It’s a philosophy I can get behind….theoretically. Put it on my bumper. Sign me up!

There’s just one little problem: I simply cannot do it!!! 

I am hopeless! I really am. I like to think I am the guy who is absorbed in the moment–very present and centered–and completely grateful for everything about my life. I am happy, too. Very much so. I wish everyone I know were as happy as I am. And yet, in the midst of all of this happiness and gratitude, I must admit to an undercurrent of tension that I have become increasingly aware of recently. I feel myself straining against the realities of my life. I am in a constant state of striving. And while striving all by itself is not a bad thing—it’s how we take the next step and grow and achieve—in my case, striving carries along with it my old friend Strife. Definition of strife: “1. Heated, often violent dissension; bitter conflict. 2. A contention: struggle between rivals.” Whom, you might ask, am I struggling against? Who is my bitter rivalry with? LIFE. Yes, LIFE itself is what I seem to be always battling. The normal flow of things and the general rules of how things go seem to be always at odds with what I want and how quickly I want it.

I want more. More time. More money. More of the freedom that comes with time and money. More time with my wife and kids. More people to read my blog. More clients. More writing gigs. More impact. More Peace. More fitness. More knowledge. More hobbies. More skills. More leisure. More of the outward and inward signs of career success. MORE!

I have a problem with patience and tolerance. I am spoiled! I really am. I simply don’t endure things very well that are not exactly to my specifications. I want the world to go a certain way. MY way. I want my dreams to come true. I want the world to see in me the greatness that I see. I want the Universe to go out of its way to align circumstances in my favor so that I can give my gifts and have them be received and appreciated by great masses of people. I want to live big and leave a lasting impact in the ways that I choose. When all of that is not happening—you know, like today and all of the other days—I become very frustrated and annoyed with the Universe. “Why are you making it so difficult for me???” 

Maybe my issue—well, one of my issues—is that I don’t just want the Universe to cooperate with my dreams; I expect it to cooperate. I expect it will put that right person in my path who has read my blog and is dying to publish it in the form of a book. I expect my wife will get some huge pay raise at work so I will no longer have to work for anyone else and can focus on my own pursuits. I expect that when I finally finish my other book, people will be dying to buy it. I expect my consulting business and coaching business will catch on like wildfire.

Of course, my brain is well aware of the potential pitfalls of high expectations—especially when they are grounded in fantasy—and thinks it would be wiser to play it safe with my dreams in order to avoid being let down by the world. “The world,” after all, is full of examples of unfairness, unfulfilled dreams, and plain old bad luck. They seem to far outnumber the examples of amazing good fortune and dreams fulfilled. And Heaven knows I could avoid all of this existential angst by listening to my brain on this one. But I don’t seem to listen to my brain. It’s too logical most days. I prefer to listen to my heart. I want to follow my Bliss.

I have a lot of passions and interests. I am deeply driven toward self-knowledge, which is how my daily journaling practice began almost twenty years ago. I am perhaps even more passionate about helping others to know themselves and fulfill their potential. This is where my drive to write and speak and coach comes in. I am also insatiably curious. The list of topics that I want to study is endless. I could live happily in a library (especially if it had a well-equipped gym, because I am also passionate about health and fitness). I could read autobiographies forever. I am addicted to fresh air, too, and adore the outdoors. I am a student of religions and spirituality. I love sports, too. And travel. I am also dying to learn the guitar and the piano. Oh, and did I mention that I have these two amazing little kids that I try to spend every waking minute with (I only write these letters to you after they go to sleep)?

I REALLY want to do all of that stuff. With all of my soul, I do. Thus, I feel like I must. I don’t want to betray the callings of my soul by neglecting any of them. I feel like I wasted too much time earlier in my life by working too much instead of listening more closely to my heart and soul. I am unwilling to do that again. I have drawn the line in the sand. But how can I do all of that stuff I just listed? How do I fit it in, especially with the kids in there (believe me, I have tried to eliminate sleep from my schedule, but I just couldn’t sustain it)?

This is where the strife comes in. This is where I butt heads with LIFE and all of its normal rules and rhythms. The Rules step in and say, “Life is tough. Who ever said it was easy? Get a job that feeds your family. Pick a hobby to do one night per week. Maybe you can squeeze in one other thing to read about before bed. But don’t get greedy. Be realistic. There just isn’t time for more. You can’t improve everything all the time. Be like Lao Tzu: just let things flow.”  

I get that. It makes total sense to me. And sometimes, I can convince myself to follow along for a night, or even a few days at a time. I pull out a book and start to read for some leisure, or I do some mindless web-surfing some night after the kids go to bed. It seems okay at first. I tell myself, “See, this is what normal people do.” I even think about finding a television series to follow.

But I don’t. I start feeling itchy. My soul intervenes. “Fit it all in! Carpe diem! Seize the day! MAKE YOUR LIFE EXTRAORDINARY!!!!” 

That’s all it takes for me. I am back to swimming upstream again, grinding hard against the grain of LIFE, trying to fill a five-pound bag with ten pounds of my passions. I can’t help myself. It seems clear that my speed and the speed of the world will never match up. Heck, our roads don’t even go in the same direction! I am quite sure I will never be content. I will be striving for more, for better, for extraordinary. What can I say: I gotta be me!

How about you? How well do you go with the flow of LIFE? Open up your journal and bleed a little of your soul into it. Are you able to take Life as it comes and comfortably roll with it? Does the world allow you about as much time as you need to feel satisfied with your day or your week? Are there things that are important to you that you feel like you must consistently leave out of your schedule? What are they? How badly does that bother you? Is it just mildly disappointing or irritating, or does it pain your soul (my neglected passions pain me in a way I cannot even begin to describe)? Are there hobbies or interests—or even a career—that you would like to pursue before you die? Is there time available for you to begin? What is stopping you? If you have more passions than you have time to pursue them, do you think you simply have a time management problem, or do you really have an overabundance of interests by any measurement? What could you cut out of your day to make room for more of the stuff that makes your heart sing? How much do you accept the idea that LIFE is difficult and that you simply don’t get to do all of the things you want to do? Are you okay with that? Leave me a reply and let me know: Are you struggling against The Rules of LIFE, or do you go with the flow?

I wish you Peace,

William

P.S. If this post resonates with you, I would greatly appreciate it if you would share it with your family and friends via social media or old-fashioned word-of-mouth. My hope is to positively impact as many people as possible every week, and I need your help to do that. Thanks in advance for your support.