Category Archives: Journaling

Are You Wasting Your Life?

IMG_1196“Don’t die with your music still inside you.” —Dr. Wayne Dyer

Hello friend,

Did you ever read or hear something that completely stopped you in your tracks? I mean, totally stunned you, and in that instant gave you a smack-in-the-face reality check that made the state of your life crystal clear? I did.

I mentioned to you in my last post, “Falling Off The Tightrope”, that probably my greatest fear in this world is wasting my life, that I am not making the most of my time here. I also talked about how I am desperately trying—and failing—to do everything I possibly can to be productive and fulfill my dreams……after 8:30 P.M., when my kids fall asleep. I have enormous ambitions for those late-night hours: write these blog posts to you, write my own journal entries, work on “The Journal Project” to eventually produce the story of my life, study all of the many things I still want to learn, and on and on and on. That is my window of time available, and I am squeezing hard to fit it all in. It is a tall order, and no wonder that I have had such trouble finding the right balance.

That imbalance—specifically, the desire to accomplish more of the things that I love and feel called to do—creates a lot of tension in me. Turmoil. Stress. Anxiety. Quite simply, I want to do better than I am doing now. MUCH better. Even as I have recently become more clear about what is my soul’s calling and what lights me up, at the same time it becomes increasingly apparent how I am failing to make that positive contribution to the world in the scope that I feel capable of. I feel like I am running a losing race against my potential. That hurts my heart much more deeply than I can find words to explain. So, I keep rushing around trying to pack more and more in so I can make a greater contribution to the world before I die.

With all of this as background noise, I was, not so many months ago, going about my busy way. To ripen me even more for a wake-up call, I had just that morning had a situation at work that had gotten my blood pressure up and soured me a bit. I escaped for a quick workout in hopes of improving my mood, and when I hopped on the elliptical machine and turned on my e-reader, I found a “Quote of the Day” message in my inbox. Here is what it said:

“The feeling of being hurried is not usually the result of living a full life and having no time. It is on the contrary born of a vague fear that we are wasting our life. When we do not do the one thing we ought to do, we have no time for anything else.” –Eric Hoffer

I was absolutely shell-shocked. Stunned. You could have just as well hit me over the head with a baseball bat. I stood there dazed for a few moments before I could do anything else, and finally I started reading it over and over to slowly dissect and absorb it. It was a total “A-ha!” moment for me. Suddenly my life situation was crystal clear to me. I wouldn’t be trying to squeeze in a book or a kayak ride or a nature walk or learning the guitar or even just watching an occasional movie if I were writing full-time. Those things get edged out because I have to write and do The Journal Project in the few “free” moments I get, always feeling rushed and compromised.

I like my job. I like teaching people and helping them to gain more confidence in themselves. I really like being a small part of one of the highlights of someone’s week; that never gets old. However, thanks to the clarity that has come from a lot of soul-searching, my career has become my version of “wasting my life” by not being what my true purpose is. And because it occupies the time that it does, I am trying to hurry to do the rest and never succeeding at that. Thus it feels, as Hoffer says, as though I have no time for anything else because I am not spending the bulk of my time and energy on my calling. What a glorious feeling it would be to live my purpose—to literally work on my calling—from nine to five instead of 8:30 P.M. to oblivion. I could actually use the evening hours for hobbies and rest, and not even be stressed or guilt-ridden by that. That is a happy thought.

And so, it seems that the gauntlet has been thrown down. What am I going to DO about this moment of clarity, this reality check? It is, after all, much easier to understand my situation than it is to change it. The time for thinking has passed; the time for doing is upon me. Starting Journal of You was a direct result of that “A-ha!” moment. It was my first step out of my comfort zone, and it was my announcement to the Universe that I am in the ring at last, ready to give my gift. I can see now that this was the first of many necessary steps. This one has kept me in the post-8:30 P.M. hours, though. I must take some bolder steps in the direction of nine-to-five. These are the steps that will take more courage, more audacity.

I am definitely scared of the risks required to make the next big move, but I am getting to that tipping point of being MORE scared of the regret I will feel if I don’t. Now is the time to engage my soul and my dreams with this world. It is time to give my gift. Along with the Wayne Dyer quote at the top, the other thought that keeps pecking away at my mind is, “This is NOT a dress rehearsal!” If not now, when? It is my time to act with courage, to embrace the uncertainty, to be radically myself. I can do it. I will do it. Onward and upward! Let me never again have to wonder if I am wasting my life.

How about you? How comfortable are you with the way you are spending your time on Earth? Open up your journal, and take a long look in the mirror. What is your potential? Seriously, how great can you be? How much can you contribute to the world? Don’t limit the meaning of “contribute;” it can be anything you decide (how many smiles you put on people’s faces, how well you raise your children, how honestly you share yourself with others, how professionally you do your job, and a zillion other seemingly invisible things are magnificent contributions). Does the difference between your contributions and your perceived potential bother you like it does me? How rushed do you feel? If you do feel rushed, is it because there is simply too much to do, or are you not spending your time the right way? How does your job and career path mesh with your dreams and your purpose? Is it integrally intertwined, totally unrelated, or somewhere in between? Is your work fulfilling? What one thing could you do today to more closely align your schedule with your calling? How can you live better? Leave me a reply and let me know: Are you wasting your life?

Go boldly in the direction of your dreams,

William

Falling Off The Tightrope

IMG_1128“My world was delicately balanced, but the scales never hung even. When something improved, something else had to crumble.” –Rebecca Donovan, Reason to Breathe

Hello friend,

I have never been good at balance. Never. I tend to zero in on one thing and let it consume all of my time and energy, leaving the rest of my passions, hobbies, and pursuits twisting in the wind. However, because I am a man of many interests, with an insatiable desire to learn new things, my headlong pursuit of only one thing at a time—no matter how worthy of my attention it is–invariably leaves me feeling torn, restless, and unfulfilled. And sometimes, just plain burnt out.

This is exactly why I don’t have a Ph.D. behind my name right now. I started my doctoral program full of high-minded ideals and enthusiasm. The intensive education—not to mention the cache of being called “Dr. William Rutten”—was going to help me save the world, so I was eager for the commitment. Then, however, classes started, and my Perfectionism Gene reared its ugly head. I had to know everything and get every answer right, as I always had in school. As it turns out, thanks to this annoying trait, the only way I do school is to study every waking hour of every day. My life was the epitome of imbalance. All of my other passions were crowded out by school. In a moment of clarity, I realized that that was no way to live for six straight years. So I bailed out.

You might think that I was wise enough to never let that happen again. You would be wrong. Not long after I checked out of academia, my career path switched into tennis teaching and management. I moved into Tennis because it was my first love and because I love teaching. And hey, how busy or stressful could it be for a guy who gets to wear shorts all day? As it turned out in my case, pretty darn busy and stressful. It wasn’t long before 60 and 70-hour weeks became the norm. I hardly ever saw the light of day, was completely wiped out physically from all of the hours on the court, and was a giant stress-ball from all of the demands off the court. And, oh yeah, I had neither the time nor the energy to pursue my other passions. The job was all-consuming, and once again, I was off-balance. This time, though, the imbalance lasted for several years, not just a semester or two.

You would be astonished to know that someone stuck by me through both the school and the work addictions, each time on the wrong end of my imbalances. As though her love and loyalty through all of that were not enough, she also provided me the key to let myself out of my self-created prison of workaholism. That key was our first child. When my daughter was born, the reality of how little time I was spending at home and my overall imbalance hit me immediately, and it shocked my system enough to make me want out right then and there. I wanted the elusive home/work balance that I had heard about. So I quit my job. Well, not exactly. I quit the management portion of my job and cut my working days down to four, taking the evenings off as well. My daughter was my number one priority, and I wanted my schedule to reflect that.

Here might be a good time to admit the full truth. I didn’t actually want the home/work balance. In my heart of hearts, I wanted to go from 60+ hours at work directly to ZERO. I wanted to spend every single minute with my daughter. If my wife made more money, I would happily have been a stay-at-home Dad and removed myself entirely from the work force. Basically, I wanted my comfortable imbalance back, only I wanted the imbalance to be fully attached to my daughter, not my job.

This longing has never left me. My daughter is almost six now—my son is almost four—and I would still shake your hand right now if you offered me the chance to stay home with them every day. As it is, I have manipulated my life with them into a different version of imbalance. I still work when I have to, yes, but when I am not there, I spend their every waking minute with them. I have given up all hobbies—e.g., golf, hanging with friends, etc.–that happen while they are awake. My wife and I don’t even go on evening dates—EVER, I mean—because that would come at the cost of missing their bedtime. I don’t miss bedtime. Last year, for our 10th anniversary, I only very begrudgingly agreed to leave them for a night. I simply want to be with them all the time.

I know that probably looks like just another unhealthy imbalance to everyone else, but this is one imbalance that I embrace. I don’t know, I guess the other stuff just feels pretty unimportant compared to them. Spending so much time with them—even to the deterioration of the other things—has never caused me much inner turmoil. When I was in school and studied all the time, it pained me that I was not giving time to my other hobbies, interests, and loved ones. That tension eventually led to my break-up with school. When I was working like a maniac, I was keenly aware that it was an unhealthy way of being. My daily journal entries from that period are pretty pathetic, mostly describing the depths of my exhaustion and how, despite my happiness, I would not recommend my lifestyle to anyone. It took the birth of my daughter to give me the strength to change it, but I knew the change was long overdue. I was a model of imbalance, and knowing that bothered me. It is only the imbalance of spending so much time with my kids to the exclusion of other things that has felt tension-free for me. The other imbalances I regret; this one I do not. Does that mean, in some strange way, that I have actually found a balance? Not someone else’s version of balance, but one that fits only me? Maybe.

It has only been in the last year-and-a-half that I have felt much inner competition for my time and energy on this family-time front. Around the time I turned 40—can you say midlife crisis?—it became more clear to me that I wanted to do some things with my life that I was not already doing. Beyond just doing my job and spending the rest of my time with the kids, I wanted to do The Journal Project to revisit and re-create the story of my life. I wanted to help people in a bigger way. I wanted to learn more and create more and be more fully who I believed I could be. But I had to keep working, and I was not willing to give up time with the kids. My solution was to be the most efficient guy in the world…….after 8:30 P.M.

Since then, instead of winding down after the kids go to bed, I attempt to get all of my other projects taken care of. I go like a madman until I can go no longer. That worked pretty well the first year, when my main thing was The Journal Project. I didn’t sleep much, but the inner turmoil was gone. I was feeling satisfied with my efforts. But then I got greedy. I wanted all of my dreams to come true. So, four months ago, I started Journal of You. It has been a fantastic addition to my life, but—argh!—quite consuming of those precious post-8:30 hours. The Journal Project has been sitting on hold, and a couple of other projects I am itching to start are getting no love. I am also feeling like I am not allowed any leisure time for things like a sway in the hammock or a ride in the kayak, because I need the minutes to get it all done. Lastly, it is becoming increasingly clear that I cannot survive on this little sleep forever (those post-8:30 hours go quickly, and for some reason these darn kids don’t wake up any later just because I was writing into the wee hours). Needless to say, I am feeling that tension again. I have lost my balance.

I think my biggest fear in this world is that I will waste my life, that I won’t make the most of my time here. I am always aware—sometimes painfully so—of how “productive” I am being. I want to spend my time being a positive influence, giving my gifts to the fullest, and making my dreams come true.  When I am doing that efficiently, I feel at ease. The moment I lose my way, I feel tense. Imbalance strikes again!!!

How about you? How balanced is your life? Get out your journal and take an honest look at your life and how you are spending it. Does your schedule match your priorities? Are you like me, getting stuck on one aspect of your life to the detriment of all others? How many hobbies do you have, and how important are they to you? Do you work too much? Do you make time to recharge your batteries? Do you spend as much time with your loved ones as you would like? If not, are you willing to change your day to make it happen? What can you sacrifice from your current schedule in order to spend more time on your highest priorities? Do you have any areas that others would say are imbalanced—like me never getting a babysitter—that feel just fine to you? If you knew you would die in one year but had to keep earning a living, how would you spend your non-working hours? Would you become more balanced, or less? How important is balance, anyway? Leave me a reply and let me know: Are you falling off the tightrope?

Live a 100% self-approved life today,

William

Happy Father’s Day To Me!

DSC_0061“Having a child is surely the most beautifully irrational act that two people in love can commit.” –Bill Cosby, Fatherhood

Hello friend,

Imagine this life: every time you get dressed, you have two others to dress. For every time that you wash your hands now, you have to wash two more times. For every time that you go to the bathroom and wipe yourself, you have to wipe two others. For every time you wake up in the middle of the night, you are woken up twice as often by others. Every craving that you have and satisfy, you must do the same for two others. Every seatbelt. Every meal. Every teeth-brushing. Every shoe-tying. EVERY ONE. EVERY DAY. Just multiply everything you do now by three and you will get the picture.

Is it clear? No? Okay, well add to this the idea that you never get to watch what you want on television, never get to eat at a restaurant, never get to sleep in (ever!!!), never use the bathroom alone, never keep your clothes clean (or your house, car, etc.), never get to go on dates, must give up some favorite hobbies, must give up feeling rested and alert, and just generally go along like you are barely hanging on. Oh yeah, and the two others that you are feeding, washing, and wiping are crying a lot in the process, not nearly as eager to get on with your day as you are. 

NOW is the visual clear to you? Good. This is the life of a parent of two young kids. My life, to be specific. Sound appealing? No? I know, I know, to any childless person reading this, you are probably thinking, “I wouldn’t do that for a billion dollars! Why would I give up my life for THAT? I don’t get it; why do people do that? It sounds awful. Like he lost his identity. No thanks!” When you look at the surface of it, I have to admit that I agree with you. It doesn’t sound like any fun at all. It is a lot of work. It’s taxing. It’s stressful. It is sometimes infuriating. It is all the time exhausting. So, what gives?

Imagine a different life. For every time someone cracks you up laughing, multiply that feeling by ten. For every time someone else’s little successes in life fill your soul with pride and gratitude, multiply that by one hundred. For every time the power of your hug can make everything better, multiply that feeling by a thousand. For every time you are an integral part of something downright miraculous, multiply that feeling by a hundred thousand. For every time someone’s smile melts your heart, multiply that feeling by a million. For every time someone drops everything when they see you, screams your name, and runs to you with open arms to give you hugs and kisses like you are the greatest thing ever, multiply that feeling by a billion. And then, after you finish with all of that math, take the greatest feeling you ever had in your life—when tears came to your eyes and your heart seemed like it would burst open because it felt so much love—and know that you will feel all that and more every single time your child says, “I love you, Daddy.” This is my life, too.

This is exactly why you cannot sell parenting to someone who is not a parent. On the surface, it just doesn’t make sense. Bill Cosby is right: it is irrational. But then you get past the surface and into that beautiful mess called the Heart. To have that one heart-bursting “I love you” from your own child is to understand how completely silly and futile it is use rational arguments to promote parenthood.   There aren’t words or numbers to explain the greatest of feelings. Many have tried and come up short. Now I count myself among them.

I never wanted kids. I didn’t. I went through my twenties in a state of blissful childlessness. I thought about the concept often–I had nieces that I absolutely adored, and I much preferred the company of kids to adults—but never felt any compulsion to have my own. I was so happy without them, and that felt like enough. It was enough.

And then one day, my mind changed. It wasn’t as though it didn’t feel like enough anymore; I can’t explain it, really. I just felt ready to give fatherhood a go. It seemed right. Fate intervened, however, perhaps to test my resolve after so many years of resisting the idea. My heart felt so ready, and yet suddenly the odds became stacked against my wife and I. In the ensuing years, we went on a rollercoaster of emotions, as doctors and social workers starred in the drama of our life. Instead of taking the denials as signs that I was truly not meant to be a father, I took them as signs that exactly the right child was not ready for me just yet.

And then one day, she was. My daughter, India, has the kindest, most loving spirit. She is absolutely brilliant, and her eyes have the serenity and beauty of two setting suns. She has held my heart so carefully since the night she was born. She reminds me every day that I am her best friend, and of course, melts me daily with her “I love you, Daddy.” Needless to say, she was worth waiting for.

After battling through so much time in doctors’ offices before India’s birth, her brother’s relatively drama-free arrival was something of a miracle. Isaiah has been enjoying the ride the entire way. He has the most funny, fun-loving spirit, and his eyes sparkle with an intoxicating blend of pure Joy and a splash of mischief. He makes me laugh more than anyone I have ever met, and then he gives the most sincere, passionate hugs and kisses. He is a one-of-a-kind charmer, my Best Man.

I cannot fathom a love greater than the one I feel for him and his sister, nor a gratitude greater than the one I feel for the gift of being their Daddy. It is, by a million miles, the greatest role I have ever played. And at the end of every single day—no matter how many fights I have broken up, messes cleaned, tears wiped, and bodily fluids worn—I find myself thinking, “That was awesome! Let’s do that again tomorrow.”

That is exactly why I cannot make a rational argument for fatherhood. I can’t explain it into attractiveness. I can only tell you that I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I absolutely loved my life before kids. I was wildly happy and grateful; more so, it seemed to me, than anyone I knew. And yet, from the very moment of India’s birth, you couldn’t get me to switch roles with the old me for anything. Not a billion dollars. Not fame. Not achievement. Nothing. Like I said, logic and mathematics simply cannot explain it. No matter how much you put on one side of the scale, it is easily outweighed by that feeling in my heart when I walk in the door and hear the feet racing around the corner as they scream, “DADDY’S HOOOOOOOOME!!!!!!” Any moment after that far outweighs the other side, too—any goofy smile from Isaiah or story from India or race up the stairs that ends with us wrestling on the floor and giving tickles and raspberries until no one can breathe from laughing so hard. Those are all plenty.

But even if they weren’t, there is always that moment when I am putting India to bed, when I am about to get up and go, and she turns to me in the dark, pulls me in for a hug and kiss, and says, “I love you, Daddy. You’re the best Daddy ever!” I walk out of that room every night so totally certain that I am the luckiest guy that ever walked the Earth. I guess you could say that is enough. It is for me.

What about you? What makes your life so happy? Open up your journal and your heart, and then go for it. This is for everybody; you don’t have to be a parent to have magical, day-making moments that add up to become life-making years. If you are not a parent (or if you are but can remember your pre-child life), how fulfilling do you (did you) think parenting would be? How much fun/work/frustration/fulfillment did you think parenting would be based on how your parents were? In your current status as either a parent or childless, do you regret the path you have chosen, or wish you had done something sooner or later? If you have kids, do they know how much you love them and how proud you are of them? What is your relationship with your father? How do you feel about him? Have you told him? Maybe today is the day. Leave me a reply and let me know: Who are you thankful for today, and what are you going to do about it?

Happy Father’s Day,

William

A Moment of Beautiful Clarity

DSC_0055“And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.” –Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

Hello friend,

Have you ever had that one little moment when it hits you how absolutely wonderful your life is? It comes like a tidal wave of gratitude in one visual image. Time stops, your heart swells, and in that magic moment you are completely intertwined with the Universe—and you know it.

It happened to me the other day. I was out for a walk around the block with my wife and kids on a placid early evening. Well, to be precise, the adults were walking, and the kids were roaring around on their Big Wheels (perhaps the greatest instrument of fun ever invented!). We turned the corner into the home stretch, and the kids charged ahead, pedaling feverishly in all their youthful glory. My wife was several steps ahead of me, striding briskly in a futile attempt to catch up to them as they made it toward home.

There it was: my life, right in front of my eyes. It was my street, my comfortable neighborhood, and my kind of evening in my favorite season. Here were these three people who I love more than anything, full of health and vitality, going happily before me.

“And for a moment, everything was perfect,” says the narrator (a la “Tangled”).

That wave of gratitude and wonder swept over me. I knew I was living the dream. “This is what it’s all about,” I said aloud. The tingle I felt in my soul as the words came out told me that I had just spoken the Truth, which felt amazing in its own right. So, with the most serene, ear-to-ear grin on my face, I nodded my approval and said softly, “Yeah, this is what it’s all about………….Thanks, God.” 

It was a transcendent moment, yet also small and plainly intimate. For that moment, the curtain was pulled back, and I got an up-close-and-personal look at the sheer, unadulterated Beauty that is my world. Stripped away were the worries and stresses about finances or schedules or someone misbehaving or my next career move. It was simply a moment in its purest form.

I used to think theoretically about being in the moment, especially as it pertained to people having problems and stresses. I pictured them sitting down on a park bench, and I said, “In this moment, unless you have hemorrhoids hurting your rear end, you don’t have a problem in the world. All of that stuff that you are holding onto about yesterday and all of those worries you have been feeling about your future—they are irrelevant in this moment. In this moment, with the sun on your face and fresh air in your lungs, everything is just fine. Do you choose to be present, to see it that way?”

In that moment, when I seemed to feel so intimate with the Mystery, it was as though that was not me but God herself nodding affirmatively and whispering, “Yeah, this is what it’s all about.” I wish I could bottle that moment, that feeling. It was nothing short of magical. Encapsulated Bliss. Even remembering it now leaves me in a state of deep Peace and Gratitude. This is how I can say with such complete conviction: Life is beautiful.

How about you? Have you had that magical moment? Open your journal and write about it. Describe the scene. What kind of a day was it? Who was with you, if anyone? Did you feel, like me, that moment of calm, almost as though time was standing still and the outside noises were muted while the Divine whispered in your ear? Were you able to pause in that moment and recognize it for what it was? For me, the best way to describe the feeling would be an overwhelming sense of Gratitude. Is that the word that best matches your moment? Have you had this special feeling more than once? If so, is there a common thread running through your moments? Mine is family. I can tell you that you are very lucky if you are overwhelmed like this frequently. You must be doing something right. Leave me a reply and let me know what your secret is. I want to know: Has the beauty of your life ever crystallized in a single moment?

Be present to the miracle that is Now,

William

Do You Dare to Bare?

IMG_1184“I think of myself as an intelligent, sensitive human being with the soul of a clown which always forces me to blow it at the most important moments.”  –Jim Morrison

Hello friend,

My 3-year-old told me today, “Well, you don’t have to keep telling me that you love me all the time, Daddy, because I already know that.”  He knows everything. I responded, “Yeah, but that is how I really feel right now, so I am telling you.”  I bet that I tell my kids “I love you” 50 times a day.  Each!  I smother them with hugs and kisses.  My emotions are right on my sleeve.  Thankfully, they are positive ones.  I am trying to keep it real with them.  I want them to know just how much I love them.  But more than that, I am also trying to be an example to them about emotional honesty. I want them to feel confident in telling their Truth, to not shy away from their emotions.

We teach what we most need to learn. I wish I was a good example about owning my feelings and sharing them honestly. I want to be. But I have to admit that it is something I have always struggled with. Like the Jim Morrison quote above, my sensitivity has often gotten so squashed in trying to put on a tough, polished exterior that I have really blown it in some important moments. In trying to minimize and put a shine on my real emotions, I have come off blunt, even callous. I have gotten in my own way.

“But I was so much older then. I’m younger than that now.” So says Bob Dylan, and I hope I am becoming that way, too. Kids are such good examples of honesty. Their emotions are like mercury, changing drastically with the conditions from moment to moment. When they go from crying one minute to laughing the next, most of us jaded parents take that to mean they were faking the crying part. Though I don’t discount that entirely, I think it is actually more that they are so completely in the moment that they can move beyond the source of their tears instantaneously. Unlike us adults, they don’t work so hard to hold grudges. They get it out—honestly and completely—and move on. It is really these transparent kids that are the wise ones in this world. When we become “mature” and “control our emotions”, the unfortunate side effect is often that we hide from our Truth and squash down feelings that must be felt lest they destroy us (through addictions and chronic, mind-numbing activities like television). I have been that old. I want to be young again!

Yes, I have been one of the many bottled-up people in this world. Why do we do it, though? Why do we chicken out? Why do we lack the courage to own our feelings and express them—to tell our Truth—especially to those we love the most? Just this afternoon I was thinking about my great-uncle Lloyd, whom I have always thought of as the most kind-hearted man I have ever known. I was thinking of how grateful I am that he has been in my life and how I hope that I can be that kind of man for the rest of my life (he is about to be 89). It hit me: I have to write him a letter and tell him so! Yeah for me, right? But as I sit here writing to you about this idea of emotional honesty, I can’t help but feel a little cowardly that the only way I dare tell this hero of mine how much he means to me is by writing him a letter. I cannot tell him to his face.

I know how I am (or how I have been?). I would freeze up if I tried to tell him. I would take any sign of awkwardness from him as an excuse to clam up and not finish my thought, not tell my Truth. “I don’t want to make him uncomfortable” or “He doesn’t like to show emotion, so I won’t”. These are just crutches for me, reasons to avoid owning who I really am. The other one—I use this one to avoid honest conversations with my Dad—is “Oh, he knows how I feel.” But that assumes a lot. What if he doesn’t know? What if he thinks my silence means what I used to think his silence meant? What if he goes to the grave thinking that?

I think it is this reason—the brevity of life and the suddenness of its end—that has helped me improve over the years at sharing my emotions honestly. I just don’t want people to leave my life without knowing how much they mean to me. And it isn’t just the shortness of other people’s lives that concern me anymore; it is also my own duration. I am keenly aware that I could go any time, so I am trying to seize every moment, “to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life,” as Thoreau says. That includes building rich, authentic relationships, which requires me to own my feelings. It also includes not denying myself the simple pleasure of telling my Truth.

Telling my Truth, I have found, is wonderfully liberating. I now see those chances to tell it as little “dares”—as in, “I dare you!”—to jump at rather than shy away from, as I always used to. The dare excites me now. Each time I seize it, I become more confident, more comfortable in my own skin, and thus more willing to share my emotions—my Truth—the next time. It is a healthy snow-balling effect.

I also think that it becomes easier to own my feelings and live out loud as I care less and less about what others think of me (see Bob Dylan above; I am becoming younger). The less I look to the outside for validation and instead seek within, the more willing I am to share my emotions and my Truth. Who I am, it turns out, is enough, and I care not for the company of those who think otherwise. So, even as I write this I get more resolved to share my emotions even more freely. It may mean writing it down for awhile—sending that letter to Uncle Lloyd will still feel good—but I will do better with the face-to-face someday, too. Eventually, I will probably become that old guy who—tactfully, I hope–holds nothing back and makes people uncomfortable with his honesty. I admire that guy.

How about you? How bottled-up are you? Open up your journal and start telling your Truth. Tell yourself first. How do you feel about you? Be honest with yourself, and don’t judge your feelings as they come. Just let them flow along with the words, unfiltered. This is when writing is at its best: when you let yourself go. Have you told the people closest to you how much they mean to you? If not, what is stopping you? Try to make the answer something about you, not about them. The part you can control is yours. Pick a person and write out how you feel about them. Do you dare say the words to them face-to-face? If not, how about writing a letter? You already wrote out your feelings; why not just send it? I dare you! Go down the list of your loved ones. Who deserves to know your Truth? Who haven’t you told? The answer to those two questions—and the gap between them—is your challenge laid out before you. Do you accept it? Leave me a reply and let me know: Do you dare to bare?

You are enough just as you are,

William

My Life of TV Shows

DSC_0607Hello friend,

Last night I finally watched the season finale of “Parenthood” on DVR. Afterwards, I said to myself, “Alright, now I don’t have to watch television for at least four more months, even longer if this gets canceled.” You see, other than a basketball game or tennis match here and there, “Parenthood” is the only show I have watched the last couple of years. The television has almost completely lost its place in my life. That seems crazy given that my memories are dominated by this magical device.

The realization that I have only one show left—one that is likely to be canceled soon, no less–shocked me so much that my mind went into a tailspin back through my lifetime, an existence chock-full of television series. What I find looking back is that, with the exception of a few outstanding comedies and dramas that transcend time, the TV shows that were important to me seem to fit in with who I was and what I was doing during those periods.

When I was a little kid, the television was always on in my house. ALWAYS! It is funny how our memories work: even though I would tell you I had an active childhood, I would also tell you that I watched a ton of TV. I watched everything. The shows that I loved the most, though, seemed to fall into two categories: 1) shows about kids in their families learning how to grow up, and 2) shows about different versions of action heroes.

Kids and their learning of “growing-up” lessons was an obvious draw, but especially kids in bigger family situations. I have four siblings, so family dynamics were right up my alley. “The Brady Bunch” was an early classic for me in that regard. I held down the Bobby Brady spot as the youngest boy in the brood. I was also Nicholas in “Eight is Enough”, Arnold in “Diff’rent Strokes”, and Tootie in “The Facts of Life”. I couldn’t necessarily claim one of the characters in “The Cosby Show”, but that is certainly an all-time favorite for many reasons. I loved that show! Throw “Family Ties” in this group, and the genre is full for my youth.

The action hero aspect of my favorite childhood shows—of course, stemming from my fantasies of being one—was probably initiated by Saturday morning cartoons, my favorite of which was “Super Friends”. I loved them all, but I was definitely an Aquaman guy. These cartoons soon transitioned to live action, and my first superhero show that totally captivated me was “The Incredible Hulk”. The other two big ones in this category for me, though without actual superheroes, were “The A-Team” (but come on, Mr. T was basically a superhero, right?) and, of course, “The Dukes of Hazzard”. The best moments of the week were those few times per episode when the General Lee jumped off the surprise dirt pile over the water–time standing totally still until the car landed safely on the other side–and away “them Duke boys” would go. That is little boy magic!

Other than the comedy classic “Cheers”, there aren’t many shows that jump out of my memory from my teen years. The next phase of my life that seemed to have TV series attached to it was my 20s, when I was figuring out life as a young adult, with stuff like independence, jobs, and relationships. My shows of choice fit the time. This period started with the Fox shows “Beverly Hills 90210” and “Melrose Place”. It didn’t hurt that these characters lived in Los Angeles, where I was either dreaming about living, actually living, or had just moved away from, depending on which point in the series you are talking about. My first apartment in LA looked just like the “Melrose” building (minus all of the super-attractive neighbors—darn!). The shows I really remember from that time, though, are “Friends” and “Party of Five”. I might have liked “Friends” so much because it made me think I could make it as an actor, as here were these six young actors who burst onto the scene, spawning multiple copy-cat shows with even more unknown actors. I remember being an extra on one called “Buddies” and thinking, “I could do this!” “Friends” was wonderful on its own, but I loved that it gave me hope. “Party of Five”, on the other hand, just totally hit me in the right spot. It was sad, but it was also siblings. Siblings who needed each other while simultaneously needing to figure out this thing called Life without parents. I was not yet in the habit of journaling every day when this show started, but when I look back at my very first journal, many of the entries come right after I had watched episodes of “Party of Five” and my soul was completely stirred up. It really resonated with me. The later portion of this “single & figuring myself out” period in my life was marked by more interesting versions of others doing just that: “Ally McBeal” and “Will & Grace”.

Finally, when I was out of that phase of life, I came full circle back to family again, this time from the perspective of someone in the middle generation. I am a parent, but I am also still a sibling and someone’s child. It is an amazingly tangled and beautiful web, this thing called family. I see that in my own life, and that is what has drawn me, in this age when I have mostly cut TV out of my life, to “Parenthood”. It just gets me feeling the things I want to feel, and I appreciate that.

I mentioned earlier that, amidst all of these periods of my life and the shows that correspond to the periods, there were a few television series that transcended time and would have been appreciated in any era. In the drama category, the one that sticks out for me is the brilliantly written “The West Wing”. Honorable mentions from my youth are “St. Elsewhere” and “Hill Street Blues”, and “ER” from young adulthood. In the comedy realm, I did mention “Cheers” as an honorable mention, but really there are two that stand out for me as all-timers: “Seinfeld” and “The Office”. I could watch either one at any time, but “Seinfeld” is the favorite. It doesn’t necessarily connect to a time in my life like the others I have mentioned, but it is simply great television. It moves me. That is what a good show is supposed to do. That is why these shows come, much like music, to tell the story of my life.

How about you? What shows tell the story of your life? Open up your journal and take a stroll down memory lane. Write about the ones that moved you to laughter and to tears. Do your favorites follow the themes of your life, too? Are you more into comedy or drama? Are there any family shows that remind you of your own family? How have your tastes changed as you have aged? Which shows that you loved as a kid do you think would still seem good if you watched them today (my faith in “90210” and “The Incredible Hulk” is shaky)? How many of the shows that you currently watch will make your list 20 years from now? And finally, as a guy who has a completely empty DVR and whose only show is about to be canceled, do you have any recommendations for me? Leave me a reply and let me know: What are the TV shows of your life?

Be triumphantly you today,

William

Is Your Job Working You?

IMG_1015Hello friend,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Live a self-approved life,

William

Your Everyday To-Do List

IMG_0930“Good resolutions are like babies crying in church. They should be carried out immediately.” –Charles M. Sheldon

Hello friend,

I have never been one to make New Year’s resolutions. I don’t know what it is about them that repels me. Every time December 31st rolls around, everyone seems to be talking about their resolutions, so I give it a quick thought: “Should I be making resolutions this year?” Invariably, I decide against it.

As I think about it now, I see that it must be my lifelong aversion to limits. I cannot stand to be contained in any way. I need a big bed, loose-fitting clothes, open roads, very few rules, no supervision, and no numerical goals. That last one might seem odd to you, but that is how my mind works. When I talk to people about weight-lifting, they say they need to state exactly how many repetitions they hope to do—e.g. twelve bench presses—to push themselves to that number, otherwise they would do fewer. I am the opposite. If you told me my goal was 12 reps, I would immediately feel constrained by the number, as though it was holding me back from doing more. So it is with resolutions and me. If I give myself a resolution and a year to do it—quit chocolate or join a gym class or lose five pounds or read War and Peace or whatever—I would feel hemmed in by it, wondering what I was going to do when February came around and I had already achieved my goal for the year. Alas, resolutions and I have never quite come to terms.

Still, there I sat on the eve of 2013, wondering how I could be doing better at life. Would a resolution help? I tried to think of the one thing that I could do by the time 2014 rolled around that would make me a better, more fulfilled person. But every attempt at finding that one thing only annoyed me more, made me feel limited by it. In that annoyance, I realized that for me, I didn’t need one thing to do once and be done with it, resolution completed. No, I needed multiple assignments, and I needed to do them every day. That was it! I didn’t need a resolution. I needed HABITS.

What a realization! It brought both relief and inspiration. Immediately I set to work on my list of action items. I had a lot of ideas buzzing through my mind on ways to improve myself, as always, so the trick was finding habits that really spoke to my highest priorities, that would produce wonderful results in many different facets of my life, and that would be a huge challenge to fit into each day of the year. I turned on my computer and typed “2013 Daily To-Do List”, and under that I named seven simple tasks:

  1. Be fully in the moment. This has been a long-time priority of mine: presence. And while I knew I had it while I was with my kids—there are no better examples in all the world of being totally present than children, better than any yogi or healer I know—I had been feeling it slipping in other moments. I noticed myself lost in thought and looking at the sidewalk on my way into work rather than appreciating the sun on my face and the fresh air in my lungs. That was not okay with me. My excuse of being completely exhausted from sleep deprivation since the kids were born was wearing thin, and I knew a change was in order.
  2. The Journal Project. By that point in time, I was a few months into my enormous project, and I knew it would take several years for just the first phase if I kept on the pace I was going. It was time to turn it up a few notches. Daily action was necessary, no matter what.
  3. Meditate. I had meditated in short and infrequent spurts over the years, but each time I did it, I was reminded of its unlimited value. I wanted it on my docket.
  4. Act like my wife’s best friend & biggest fan. This had become a frequent topic in my internal conversations of late. I was thinking of how forgiving and supportive I am toward my buddies, but how I was seemingly giving the one I had pledged my life to the least amount of leeway and applause. That was unacceptable to me.
  5. Improve efficiency/Waste no time. I am extremely ambitious when it comes to the very tiny window of time I have when I am not either at work or playing with my kids. I want to read every book in the world, do The Journal Project, write a blog, teach myself the guitar and piano, get fit, keep up the house and yard, get another degree, write a book, and on and on and on. All after 8:30 P.M.!
  6. Reduce sugar intake. I am, and always have been, addicted to sugar. I had been reading more about nutrition and the detrimental effects of sugar, and I was determined to take steps to get my addiction under control.
  7. Stretch/Yoga. This one, like meditation, is a practice that I had been recommending to anyone and everyone ever since I found yoga when I was around 24. Unfortunately for me, I had become completely out of the habit, another casualty of becoming “busy” and losing sight of my priorities. I wanted it back.

That was my list. The seven things I wanted to keep front-and-center every day of the 2013. I printed two copies and taped one to my bathroom mirror and one to my desk. You may be wondering why “Write in my journal” is not there. The answer is simple.   I only wanted items on the list that were not already firmly entrenched into my day. Thus, “Write in my journal” and “Spend every possible moment absorbed in my kids” had no use on the list; they were coming along anyway. As you can see, some of the items required no extra time commitment, which, I suppose, means they should have been easiest to execute. The others were certainly achievable daily actions. Even from this distance, it looks like a pretty practical list.

So, how did I do? Hmmm. Not as well as I had hoped, but there were some positives. I was more present, which proved to be a good stress-reducer. My work on The Journal Project, which went hand-in-hand with improving efficiency/wasting no time, turned out to be the task I did far better than the rest.   I started writing it in my schedule, which really cemented the commitment. I made tremendous progress, which was extremely satisfying, both in terms of the simple joy of progress and also in the blissful pursuit of my dreams. Everything about it felt good. All the while I was cutting almost all unnecessary activities—television being the biggest—out of my day. Improve efficiency/waste no time became ingrained enough that I probably didn’t’ even need the reminder anymore. The other one I did okay with was being more supportive and forgiving of my wife. Simply having it on the list in front of me made me more mindful of our relationship and being a better friend and fan. I saw her more clearly.

I wish I could say I checked everything off my “2013 Daily To-Do List” every day, but alas, I wasn’t up to the task. I started off right with meditation, creating a dedicated space in my basement for it and allotting a meager twelve minutes per night to start. I loved it, too, but somehow it became quick to go when I got busy, and the almost-habit fizzled to nothing. The stretching/yoga went the same way. I struggled with reducing my sugar intake, too, though I definitely became much more aware of when I was eating it. Needless to say, there were definitely some “fails” on my list.

Nevertheless, when it came time to re-evaluate the list for a 2014 version, I decided to keep it exactly the same. I wanted to keep going with the good things, and I still valued my failed items enough to keep them on my daily task list for another year. Sadly, valuing them has not translated into doing them. I have yet to resume the meditation or yoga. I have actually done a tiny bit better with my sugar habit. Unfortunately, The Journal Project has fallen off my daily schedule, being replaced by its partner, “Journal of You”, which you are reading now. Though I totally love the blog-writing and see its value and place in my greater mission, it pains me that I have not kept up on The Journal Project.

What I am seeing now is that I need a new, revised “2014 Daily To-Do List” that still reflects my ambition but has some grounding in the reality of my schedule. So, starting today, here goes:

      1. Be fully in the moment.
      2. Act like my wife’s best friend & biggest fan.
      3. Reduce sugar intake.
      4. The Journal Project/Journal of You—at least one, not always the same one. 

How about you? Are you ready to create your own “2014 Daily To-Do List”? Open your journal and start jotting ideas. Are your tasks things that you currently do sometimes but not every day? Are they things that are going to take time and require you to schedule them (e.g. my Journal Project), or are they things that require only a psychological or philosophical shift (e.g. being fully present)? Is it time to add something totally new to your life, like learning an instrument or a new language? Try to find a balance of ambition and reality; make the list a challenge but not so hard that you are dooming yourself to failure. Just make sure the list speaks to who you want to be, the version of you that you know is in there ready to come out. Leave me a reply and tell me who that person is. I want to know: what’s on your everyday to-do list?

You will come alive just past your comfort zone,

William

Are You Fine Wine or Rotten Grapes?

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

Hello friend,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You are lovable in every moment,

William

Who Rubs You The Wrong Way?

DSC_0442Hello friend,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The answer is within,

William