Well Joe got cancer, and headed in a downward spiral that was faster than many.  He sold his belongings, moved back to the mainland so that his family could take care of him; yet he continued to be positive in his outlook.

I got busy with other things, and Joe wasn’t conducting business with me anymore, so he was not in the forefront of my mind.

One day in autumn last year, Joe called my work number, and I was busy with another customer.  He left a message to call him back, and I put it off until the next day, since I had so many pressing things to complete at work.

When I called back late the next day, the phone was answered by his brother, who said that Joe had voluntarily decided to request administration of large amounts of sedative which would keep him in a coma until he passed away.  He had called me the day before to say goodbye, and I had been too busy to take his call.

He passed a week later.

Today, I learned that my brother, who is suffering from terminal brain cancer, doesn’t have much time.  His wife sent out the message that if we were intending on visiting, then we should do so sooner rather than later, as we were not sure how long he would retain cognitive function.  Although I never got to say goodbye to Joe, my final experience with him was a lesson I learned the hard way.  Time is of the essence, and no matter what it costs, or which activities I need to rearrange to get it done, I will be there to say goodbye to my brother while he is still cognizant of our relationship.  These lessons are hard, but I believe that they weave the web of spiritual growth due to the challenges they provide.

Love to all.

This advice seems to be contrary to all of the major religions’ teachings, no?  I mean, aren’t we supposed to put others’ needs before our own?  Yet we can’t take care of others unless we take care of ourselves first.   If you neglect to put on your mask, and others don’t know how to put theirs on, or need help putting theirs on, then you both die.  If your needs are met, then you are able to assist others with the learning process of using their own masks.

Seems simple enough, but how many of us really do this?  How many of us actually carve out the time to exercise, to pack a healthy lunch for ourselves, or to take a few minutes in the car alone to just reflect before we enter the house for the onslaught of family obligations?  We believe that our family must be tended to first;  yet can you truly attend to your family’s needs when you are in dire need yourself?

Steven R. Covey calls this Sharpening the Saw in The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People.   And  Hal Edward Runkel in Scream Free Parenting reminds us that we can’t be effective parents unless our oxygen mask is on first.

So next time your family makes demands that can wait an hour, take that time to walk uphill on the treadmill, or listen to an audio book on the back porch, or head to the nail salon and get a manicure.  You’ll be taking care of yourself, and you’ll have your oxygen mask on when you return.  Your family will be thankful that you’re calmer, more collected, and more focused on them.

Sometimes, I need to follow up with the offender about my feelings.  Sometimes I realize that the problem is my own, I process my emotions, realize that I have been irrational, and I apologize.  Sometimes I hide away in denial until I can speak my mind.

Just a note, folks, that this is not a responsible way to solve your issues.

This is a form of denial, and it won’t get you far if you want to address issues like a grown up.

A better option:

It’s not a bad thing to want to think about what you want to say before you say it.  It worked for Mister Rogers, and it can work for you. If you have an issue with your significant other, a friend or a family member, and words have been exchanged, then it’s OK for you to tell the other party that you need some time to process what has gone on.

Rather than hiding in a corner and withholding your love, just TELL them that you need some time.  Here are some options:

“I know we have just had a conversation that included a lot of heated emotions.  I need to process this information, so please give me some time alone to do so.  My distancing myself from you is just me thinking about things, so please allow me some time alone to do that.”

“We talked about a lot tonight.  It might take me some time to process this information, so if I’m distant for a day or two, understand that I still love you and that I just need some time.”

This way, you have indicated to your loved ones that you love them, that you need some time to process your feelings, and that it’s important to you to process the information rather than just react.

Remember:  Once Said, Never Unsaid.

Yet other obligations get in the way, and usually there’s not enough time to complete a full analysis of our decision before making one. So when it goes wrong, our minds come back to our lack of research and preparation for the decision.

So how do you react to your bad decision? There are two paths you can take: responsibility for the decision, or self blame for its outcome. It’s your choice, and I’m sure that you have taken both roads at one time or another.

Blaming yourself for not preparing properly incites that crippling, hand-wringing guilt that serves no one. Most likely you will replay the situation over in your mind, glaring at yourself for your stupidity every time you catch yourself in a mirror.

On the other hand, taking responsibility for your decision–no matter its outcome–does serve you. It reminds you that you are human, that you made the best decision that you could make in the time frame you were given. It allows you to cache the experience in your memory for next time, and sets precedent for future decisions. This is the healthier path every time.

Think of this: when you make a good decision, do you take responsibility for that? Many may say that it was luck, or providence, or coincidence. But in truth, it was just you, and you can give yourself a mental pat on the back. You don’t replay it in your mind over and over as you do after a decision with a negative outcome (if there really are any negative outcomes, since all actions can be viewed as lessons). You revel in it; you may even smile.

Let’s try taking responsibility, rather than self blame, for each decision and its consequences, no matter whether the outcome is perceived as good or bad. This is the way to a guilt free life.

The assessment took about 3 minutes, and returned a result smack in the middle of the spectrum…in other words, MEDIOCRE!
This is not what I wanted to see, but when I really reflect on it, I guess it is actually pretty accurate. After all, I am a pretty worldly person (I like my electronic gadgets and sparkly stones), but I do have a sense of the divine and understand the basics of why we’re here.

This assessment, of course, allows me the room to grow, and to focus my efforts on improving the areas in which I scored pretty low (like tapping into the Akashic field, whatever that is). I got a new Kindle, so what better opportunity to take my learning to the Akashic field by way of modern technology…the best of both worlds!

If you would like to take the Enlightened Wellbeing Self Assessment, you can take it here

Namaste

But in today’s world, most people are clustered in metropolitan areas because the resources there are easier to obtain.  And chances are you run into people you know all the time.  And then you find out that people you know know other people you didn’t know that they knew, and they know you too.  In the language of Linked In, this would be a second connection.  Take the situation of a dear friend that I tried to set up with Joe, a soccer acquaintance of Jerry’s.  She and I ride horses; Joe and Jerry are soccer teammates.  Two different worlds.

So we invite them both over, these friends who are close to us but unknown to each other.  After some conversation, we all realize that they have a mutual friend, with whom Joe lives at the moment.  Small World.

Now take Zoe, an acquaintance in Florida with whom I have spoken on the telephone for over 3 years.  She’s crazy, and unforgettable, and our conversations would be loud and raucous.  Anyone that meets her would surely remember her strong personality and stunning good looks.  Her Facebook page has over 2900 fans, and twice as many people follow her on Twitter.

And she’s missing, and none of those people–whether first or second connections–know where she is.  How could such a vibrant, colorful and high profile person just disappear?  In a world where your cousin went to school with mine, where we can find Facebook friends from our junior high school classes, and where long lost friends can reunite after years of separation, how can someone actually disappear without a trace?

Now criminal conduct aside, which I pray is not the situation, Zoe could be the person to pull an Elvis, a Jim Morrison or a Marilyn.  But how do you make yourself invisible in this Small World?

My point here is this:  you are never really alone unless you want to be.  Just look outside, and most likely it won’t be long before you  see a face that you’ve seen before.  It’s the familiarity of community.  The peace in recognition.  The sense of being part of something.

Unless you don’t want to be, in which case, you can just pull a Zoe.

You see, until yesterday, I thought I was the center of the universe.  I existed to be the focus of attention at a party, the witty joke-deliverer, the one who made people laugh.  The one who was chosen for extra special assignments, for the writing jobs because of my excellent word choice.  The problem-solver.  The representative.  The level-headed one that could lead the group to success.

And yesterday, I gave up that role to others.  And with it, I gave up my self-perceived and  immense responsibility for saving the world.  I am free to live my life as a regular person.  I can enjoy my family, and can sit on the couch for four hours knitting without guilt.  I can draw a picture if I want to, or write a poem without the need to publish it and receive accolades from all that read it.

I am free!

At the ripe age of 45, I have realized that it’s not necessary to carry the world on my shoulders.  I can be a normal person without the need to be an overachiever.  What a relief and what a breath of fresh air.

So today, when things got rough, and I would normally have stepped in and led the team without being asked, I sat on the sidelines and observed.  I pictured myself as the wizened Eskimo elder, knowing that I could solve the problem but not forcing the solution on others.  I let them solve the problem, and when they looked to me for confirmation that their decision was a viable one, I simply nodded my head and let them take the credit.

What bliss.

Gurus like Larry Winget and Gary Vaynerchuk inspire us to break free of the corporate mold, and start making changes in order to live the lives that we want.  After reading nearly a hundred of these self-help books, I am left with the nagging feeling that these people believe that there are no employers that can provide you with a satisfying job.  In their eyes, you must work for yourself in order to find happiness in what you do.

Although I believe entrepreneurship provides benefits that many traditional jobs do not, such as freedom to make all of the decisions and self-appointed vacations, it can also increase stress levels, tear apart families and create health problems that affect our level of happiness.  I am an entrepreneur myself, and along with the day job, I see both sides of this issue.

Please excuse my oversimplification of the benefits of entrepreneurship vs employee life.  The arguments for both sides are valid yet lengthy, and I am sure that there are plenty of sources that will assist you in choosing what’s best for you.  My subject here is accepting, no matter which path you choose, where you are right now.

Many of us, including myself in the recent past,  spend a lot of time bitching about where we are.  We hate getting up early and leaving our family at 6am. We miss our childrens’ functions due to late meetings, we are too tired to cook dinner after a long day’s work.  After my pity party was over, I decided to make the best of where I was at any particular time and view my world from the perspective of my being exactly where I was supposed to be.

This means doing what you can do, when.  And not feeling guilty about what you didn’t do, unless what you chose to do instead of what you should have done was stupid.

What’s stupid?  Five straight hours of South Park.  Drinking an entire bottle of wine by yourself, leaving a stream of clothes on the floor and dragging yourself to bed.  Hanging out on Facebook and refreshing until you see a comment made on one of your posts.  Those things are stupid, and those places are not where you should be.

This is time wasted, and as we get older, time is exactly the thing we value the most.  So why waste this time?  Even needing to unwind can be productive, if you just want to doodle on a pad and let your mind wander.  That, to me, while perhaps not overtly productive, gives your mind time to stew, to make sense of your crazy life, and, hopefully, turn it into something that will satisfy your temporary need to be–elsewhere.

Sometimes those doodles on the pad are just stick people, and sometimes they turn into ideas that can be useful whether you work inside the home or out–for yourself or for someone else.  And you can see that where you are is exactly where you are supposed to be.

There’s one man, that at 4:50 PM every day, is walking down the sidewalk on the south side of the street.  Sometimes he walks east, and sometimes west.  And the one thing that strikes me about him is that he is always filthy.

Homeless?  Not sure.  Maybe he is a blue collar worker whose job includes drywall, paint or cement.  He wears an array of clothes, all filthy.  His shoulder-length hair is as close to a mullet as it can be without actually being one, and he has a Sonny Bono moustache that seems out of place in this day and age.  He is tall and thin and his shirt is always tucked in, and he walks with a swagger that says, “I know who I am.”

Well I am glad that he does, because he seems an enigma to me.  One doesn’t see too many people with those attributes–neat, trim, confident and filthy–and it makes me want to stop and ask him what his life is all about.  But, of course, I don’t, because it’s not my place to do so.

And every time I see him, it impresses me that he is OK with being dirty.  He is OK with showing his true self in public without concern about what others think of his looks.  He knows who he is and he’s OK with it.

Thanks for the example, mystery man.

Why Do We Crave to Know More About Others’ Misfortunes?

The other day I was enduring the endless wait in solitary confinement at an Urgent Care Facility. Despite the nurse saying that the Doctor would be “right in,” I had been eyeing that shiny red Biohazard bucket since she’d shut the door on her way out. The bucket with its triangular arrow-shaped sign was the brightest thing in the room.  It could be empty, or it could be full. Maybe it contained body parts that had been chopped off by shrub trimmers, or foreskin, or crusted over scabs from a dog bite…or maybe it just contained soiled Q-Tips and bloody bandages from a fall on the cement. Either way, it was the fact that someone’s misfortune had contributed to its contents that consumed me.

This is the reason that drivel like reality shows, and soap operas and Jerry Springer can consistently bring in the bucks and the audience. Because people want to see others suffering more than they are. If Ashley slept with her mother’s boyfriend, and a mother-daughter catfight ensues, then for those few moments between commercials we can forget that we have problems of our own. And reveling in someone else’s problems, with its disconnection from our own reality, provides us with an escape if just for a few minutes.

I held back from peeking into the Biohazard bin, because someday, something of mine could be in there. And I would want dignity and respect to prevail over the torrid curiosity of others who would revel in my misfortune.