This Is My Brain on Paper

I remember the first time I read of someone forcing words onto the page. The phrasing expressed the push-pull of the writing experience, as though the paper and writer were in a tug of war. In a knot writers believe they invented, the opponents are parts of the same person.

Is the writer persona the one who wants the heart laid bare and the writer protector the vigilante scaring the ink back up into the pen? Or is it the other way around? Does the human desire to pour out his or her soul and the public persona demand reconsideration?

Another line that caught my attention was bleeding onto the page. Ah the anguish! The reader expects desperate spurts and persistent oozing of the deepest veins of humanness.  Insights bouncing out of epiphanies have been heralded. Or at the very least a surprising confession. What causes one to bleed? Surely something painful. What will stanch the flow–the paper? (Of course, this is disappointing if the author was melodramatizing writer’s block!)

Should the writer then pour out lifeblood until there is none left? Or as with a physical wound, does the rivulet soon dry up and begin to heal over? If a writer persists in bleeding onto the paper, surely nothing less than exorcism is the goal.

Most of my writing is putting my brain on paper. I have ideas. I want to express them in more or less coherent syntax for the benefit of readers. Though I disburse information, I don’t do so without feeling. My biases are clear in my writing.

Though I enjoy public speaking, one reason I prefer writing is I can edit, often more than once. There’s no Delete key on the podium! Writing is more orderly for me. I can move similar sections together, and cut impertinences. Crush melodrama. I should never speak on an issue about which I’m passionate – at least not to any I perceive as opposition – for I will surely stuff my delivery with more emotion than is required or even desirable. My pitch’s progression may not be logical. (Where’s Delete?)

I am far better off, as are you, if I keep my brain on paper.

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Making History

President Barack Obama is photographed during a presidential portrait sitting for an official photo in the Oval Office, Dec. 6, 2012. (Official White House Photo by Pete Souza)

Yesterday, the Arizona Cardinals made history by beating the Philadelphia Eagles in national football playoffs, earning the Cards a trip to the SuperBowl.

Tomorrow, the first African American will be sworn in as the 44th president of the United States. Historical events.

No one has ever been the 44th president of the United States before. Forty-three leaders have been sworn before God and the world to serve the best interests of the United States of America and its people. Obama will be number 44. History. A 44th president.

Others more eloquent than I have discussed and will continue to describe the historical nature of this African American man’s election. Books will be written, films will be made. Though I have thoughts on the president-elect’s significance, this topic is simply Making History. Hence my reference to the uniqueness of the 44th president. There has never been and never will be another 44th.

Your Sunday was as unique as the Cardinals’. And your Tuesday will be as individual as Obama’s. Perhaps not as wide-reaching. I think a boulder tossed into a lake would send ripples farther and longer than a pebble tossed into the same lake, unlike Galileo’s presumed experiments of balls of different densities landing below the Tower of Pisa at approximately the same time.

Obama lives large and is making grand history. The Cardinals will be living large for the next month and may make famous or infamous history at the SuperBowl.

But we all make history. You. Me. Perhaps proportional to the gusto with which we live, or the enthusiasm or breadth and depth of good deeds and kindnesses – or misdeeds and horrors. We choose to be minor players or interact with others more passionately (whether positively or negatively).

I’ve rarely, if ever, considered that the way I lived a certain day made history. I’ve been part of history, my autobiography having been published as a chapter in a book about a small subset of women, while I was in my early 40s. Seemed historical at the time. Too young for a “life story.” I’ve attended  a first conference on something and a last seminar on another thing.

How would I plan my day and check off my tasks were I conscious of making history? What if my day consumed a paragraph in a high-schooler’s textbook? Would it be worth reading? Or would the whole chapter about me be as lifeless and insignificant as cold, flat roadkill?

Why do people tend to leave the big events and big impacts up to big people? Surely we know one person can have the effect of a Haley’s comet, rare and life-changing. Many of us do work to make history in our communities: volunteering, raising money, visiting people who matter but are less visible than are others, caring for a disabled child into adulthood, remembering birthdays…

As Brandi Snyder may have said:

To the world you may be just one person, but to one person you may be the world.

Make history!

___

Photo courtesy WikiCommons

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Newness

Do you like new things?

There was a time when I didn’t like to wear clothes that were immediately new; though, I can’t say I ever knew another girl who didn’t!

I love new things now. I’m wearing my new purple, fringed shawl, even though the rest of my outfit could use an upgrade to go with the wrap.

Moments ago, I made a Dutch oven of refried bean soup to take to a potluck later today. I used two new kitchen tools I received for Christmas: a mincer (to take the roughly chopped onions and garlic down to smithereens) and a mortar and pestle (to convert cumin seed into cumin powder). If you’re a cook, you know how much more fun great tools, especially new, can make an otherwise big job.

Then there are ways to make old things seem new, like the hours and hours I spent clearing my desk and cleaning my office before Christmas. Keeping it that way is a separate challenge, but having it well-organized and gleaming reminds me how much I enjoy working in it when I do not feel overwhelmed.

That may be the greatest gift of newness: release of whelm! Some, but not all, old, worn out, run down, dusty things become oppressive, like a vehicle that’s always breaking down. New things carry hope:

  • hope you’ll look sharp in your new duds
  • hope people will delight in your cooking for them (with new tools)
  • hope business will go better today

Every new thing brings with it a blank slate. Like mini-new-years all year long. A new pen. A new pad. A new page on the calendar. A new outfit that lets you be a new you.

Most of all, new surroundings, even if in the same location, let us reinvent ourselves just a little. Thus we grow. Supported by new things, new tools, new toys, new friends, new clothes, new cleanness, new file folders…

What would happen if with every newness that comes into our lives this next year, we consider how we can capitalize on it? How can we step up mentally, physically and emotionally and let this new thing give us the boost the newness commitment takes?

Image by kim_hester from Pixabay

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Remove the Sting

A couple years ago as I worked in my rock garden, a bee settled on my arm and plunged its poisoned arrow into my flesh. Ever the girl scout, I whipped out my Swiss Army knife, opened it, and scraped the pulsating venom injector off my arm, without even a thought I might cut myself!

My internal commander, with or without the knowledge I’d been diagnosed ‘fatally allergic to bee stings’ screamed “STOP.” Easy enough to do. In a setting in which uncensored smarts call the shots.

But without apparent life or death at stake, we receive prompts to “remove the sting.” especially writers, or speakers and edu-tainers of any stripe.

There are two conditions we’re presented daily in which we can reduce paralyzation and edema by excising the stinger.

They’re both rooted in fear.

One is the fear of asking too much. the other is the fear of being asked too much. I’ll illustrate.

In the 80’s I was selling pre-need burial plots. Early in my training, the boss went with me and listened as I explained the plans and showed the glossy photos. When it came time to say the price, he shouted, “Four hundred dollars!” I jumped, startled by his volume. He said later he was deliberately trying to scare me, but what I believe to this day is that by expressing the rate so confidently, he removed the potential for squirming by the clients. He extracted the stinger.

Two decades later I still offer things to people. For money. Sales. OK, there. I said it. I pronounce what they expect to hear, or what they don’t expect, then explain it. But the first pronunciation clears the way for what comes next.

Yet sometimes I’m on the other side of the fence. I’m the one from whom too much is asked. I did not expect to be growing old while everyone around me is 30 years older. They’re supposed to be the older people, not I! Nor did I expect to have weeks of no online sales when my daily In Box recites days of “$87,000 in 24 hours” from some other Internet marketer.

Forcing into words my reality, especially when it differs from the co-conspired norm, reduces its pain, like fingering a wound to see where the tenderness stops.

If I admit my wrist is hurting, does it hurt more, or less? That depends. If I am afraid that this ache means something not good, saying it aloud lessens the sting just as much as shouting $400 will make a family eager to pay $200.

If I say aloud how much it hurts, but the medical significance is nothing, I guarantee the wrist will hurt more until I can barely survive.

The best advice I can give you is “Say what needs to be said.” If it hurts, that’s because you’re removing the stinger.

Image by reizneidalarm from Pixabay

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One Thing

At an intimate dinner party for four, we were asked, “What ‘one thing’ would you like to have?”

The context was touring art galleries. A quarter of our four was accustomed to visiting showcases, then in the debrief over dinner and drinks with family afterwards asking “Of everything you saw today, which one thing would you want if you could have anything?”

On the hilariously recounted occasion, a non-family member joined in the tour de force. During the post-artum discussion, our friend asked, “What one thing, if you could have anything, would you desire?”

Without hesitation, the newcomer to the group said, “Plastic surgery.” Ensuing laughter prevented certain parties from ever speaking again.

But the needling question is, “What one thing would you ask for?”

Another quarter of our dinner party lightened the mood by answering with the proviso her response be considered in today’s time frame, not as an “ultimate of all of my life this one thing is all I would ever want.” That kept me in the game.

In my idealistic youth I thought growing up equated to finding that one thing for which you would forsake all else. In characteristic teenage adroitness,I latched onto a portion of a psalm that simplified life:

One thing have I desired of the LORD, that will I seek after; that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the LORD, and to inquire in his temple.

Psalm 27.4.

I didn’t have to think but a second to know I was drawn to beauty and wisdom. Rather, by being drawn to beauty I always believed I had wisdom. I also liked the work seek. Pro-activism.

Writing out my goals and life mission over the years, I’ve added love, and its cohorts kindness, compassion and courtesy (for ourselves, for one another, and for the world).

But what’s the one thing you want right now, knowing you can change it tomorrow or as soon as you change, which is less than a second from now?

Given the caveat of fickleness, I opted for money. How much? Set a minimum. I said “$500,000.” That would enable me to…

  • pay off business debts.
  • hire the maintenance the house needs.
  • buy several rental properties whose income would sustain us through our dotage.

Forced to choose one thing for a lifetime, a legacy, I could not have bowed to mammon.

But what a relief it was to have half a million dollars cash for an evening! Woohoo!

Image by OurWhisky Foundation from Pixabay
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Tracking Change

Does everyone think about recording significant events, or is the notation instinct peculiar to writers?

When I found my first gray hair, when I saw the first indisputable age-related wrinkle on my face — these and other signs I thought I should write down. It would be interesting to trace the process of aging, perhaps to mark ones progression toward finality to prove that being here mattered, that one was alive the entire time and did not slip away without awareness.

Or to bear down hard when forming words for the sheer unbelievability of turning from a luscious, beautiful, lithe girl into a gray-haired, flabby, scarred and bruised, achy adult. Whose brilliant idea was this? Someone on the committee seems to have dropped the ball, because the follow up on this project appears to be going to hell without even the courtesy of a hand basket!

Obviously, I did not compile in a diary my progression along life’s timeline or I could have avoided the phrase “and other signs” above. Had I journaled each incident, however, it’s unlikely I’d be able to find the tome. Change has forced bits of my life into anonymous boxes too numerous to catalog. Electronic media is no friend of the passage of time either. Disks no longer physically fit the devices they were created to “back up.” (I have boxes of diskettes and tapes and zips and orbs, too. Why?)

Thursday morning about 11, as I served the computer god that generates my livelihood, I was unable to remove some piece of fuzz attached to my right eyelashes. Even a bath with extra rinses didn’t clear the buggers from dashing across my field of vision as I continued my day; though I thought they lessened.

I’d heard the term floaters but was uncertain what they were. Nevertheless I Googled “eye floaters.” Turns out, that’s what the random dark shapes that move with my right eye are. Shadows of something going on in the back of the eyeball. Funny little things, I can’t see them by looking at them, but only by not looking at them, because they move when I move my eye.

I learned they are age-related. Great! Unless they settle out of my line of vision, a possibility, I will live the rest of my life looking through the equivalent of glasses that cannot be cleaned.

There. I wrote it down.

Image by OurWhisky Foundation from Pixabay

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We’re Going Crazy

Did it catch your attention that OJ Simpson and Claus von Bülow made news during the same week? Claus’s ex-wife, Sunny von Bülow died December 6 at age 76, having been in a coma since she was 48. Claus was charged with making two attempts on her life. In a media circus lasting five years, he was found guilty and sentenced to 30 years in prison. His friend Sir Paul Getty, of the Getty fortune, advanced the money for his appeal and with what has been called a better team of lawyers, Claus was exonerated. His marriage to Sunny was dissolved and he won no part of her $14 million estate.

The von Bülow case was the first major criminal trial televised in the U.S., setting a precedent for the 1995 TV ratings slam dunk of the OJ Simpson trial. After 95 million watched Simpson’s June, 1994 slow speed car chase, blacking out even the NBA Finals, it’s no wonder his subsequent televised trial riveted the nation, the longest jury trial in California history (over eight months). An estimated 150 million people watched the verdict being read.

This is the booking mug for O.J. Simpson, taken Friday, June 17, 1994, after he surrendered to authorities at his Brentwood estate in Los Angeles. Simpson was charged with two counts of murder in connection with the June 12, 1994 slayings of his ex-wife, Nicole, and acquaintance Ronald Goldman. (AP Photo/Los Angeles Police Department)

Exactly 13 years to the day after his acquittal in the 1995 Los Angeles murders, OJ was found guilty of 12 charges relating to a 2007 Las Vegas armed robbery. On December 5, 2008, the day before Sunny von Bülow died, Simpson was sentenced to 33 years in prison, presumably eligible for parole in nine years. A press conference later this morning will give the details of his sentence.

I didn’t follow the von Bülow case in the 80s, so I have no personal opinion on the golden boy’s sense of right and wrong. Simpson, on the other hand, is a psychopath in my amateur opinion — a person without conscience. In 1995, he said he didn’t do it. In 2008, he pled he didn’t know it was wrong. Commenters on one African American blog site called Simpson “ignorant,” because he didn’t learn from his mistakes in the 90s.

Sorry folks. Psychopaths do not make mistakes. To psychopaths, there is no objective right and wrong. There is only “What I do is right; anything you do that I disagree with is wrong.”

Why does this matter to normal sane people less interested in the birth of Reality TV than in getting on with our personal productive lives? The Associated press reported last week – the same week von Bülow and Simpson shared news coverage – that one in five college aged kids is mentally ill, suffering a personality disorder significant enough to impair normal function.

Counting substance abuse, the study found that nearly half of young people surveyed have some sort of psychiatric condition, including students and non-students.

We care, because in light of the fatal shootings at Northern Illinois University and Virginia Tech, as a society we have to decide not only what is safe and fair, but also what is humane and righteous. Seventy-five percent of these young adults are not receiving mental health care treatment. If 75% of diabetic students weren’t taking their insulin, wouldn’t we line them up every morning and march them through their blood sugar tests?

  • Is it fair for colleges to mandate treatment?
  • By what process would administrators be informed of who needs treatment?
  • Does a school have the right to dismiss a mentally ill and untreated student?
  • If a student is dismissed for mental illness, do the parents have the right to sue the school for reinstatement?
  • Can the parents get the youth’s medical records sealed before seeking admission to another school?

Are you immune?

According to the National Institute of Mental Health, an estimated 1 in 4 U.S. adults suffers from a diagnosable mental disorder in a given year.

Look around. If your three closest friends seem ok, then it’s you.

 

Photos from WikiCommons

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Makeover Hell

Everyone loves a makeover, right?

“Not so much,” say Internet marketers. They never go as smoothly as anticipated. One glitch is wonderful. It beats 17 glitches.

I’d just gotten used to the lovely refreshing “green leaf” WordPress blog theme, when a colleague pointed out there were some things (like the footer links) that could not be edited. Such is often the price of a “free theme” for one’s blog. It may require obeisance to its designer.

So we started over. I’ll keep blogging while my colleague keeps slogging through code to get this site looking more respectable. Professional. As writerly sites should look.

Yet if we do not adapt to change, we perish. Vinyl gives way to tape, then to CDs, then DVDs. Film is losing to digital. But we relinquish these familiar accompaniments not so we can experience loss, but so that we may experience improvement. New tools don’t always work exactly as advertised, so every change is not necessarily an improvement.

Of this we can be certain: without change there will be no improvement.

What are you currently giving up, and for what improvement in your life?

 

Image by GreenCardShow from Pixabay

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Inner Tube Art

I am always doing things I can’t do, that’s how I get to do them. Pablo Picasso

I’ve enjoyed this saying from Picasso since I first heard it. A paraphrase I found on the Internet suggested the meaning is “that’s how I learn to do them.” I prefer the mystique of Picasso’s words, but learning is part of the seduction.

Today I installed an inner tube in our wheelbarrow tire. I’m glad to have this completed, because once a tubeless tire goes completely flat, it is very difficult to inflate. You have to wrap a belt or something around the tire and pull it tight so the rubber connects to the rim. Then pump like crazy. I’m glad I learned how to do that, too.

The man at the hardware store told me how to install the tube. Pull one side of the tire outside the rim, pull the valve stem out of the rim, feed the new tube inside the rim as evenly as possible, half inflate it and massage the tire to help the tube find its seat, then finish off the air and reinstall to the barrow.

The step I didn’t mention in the above list was getting the tire back into the rim. I wrestled with it for quite awhile, but got it only not quite half way till I called for another pair of hands. I wet the edge of the tire with soapy water, and we used a long-handled screwdriver, a crow bar, a putty knife and a pair of pliers–the latter three to keep the part of the tire we’d already popped back under the rim in place till the rest could be pried over with the long-handled driver. (Mechanic’s shops have a nifty compressed air-driven tool for doing this.)

A side benefit to the tire repair effort is that in asking the hardware man whether my air-pump needed a part or replacement, he described to me how to fix it. So we have a good as new wheelbarrow and a good as new (though over 30 years old) air pump.

It is art to complete something worthwhile, something demanding creativity. I’m sure any hardware sales assistant or mechanic would agree.

Image by Ria from Pixabay

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Go Ahead: Change Your Socks

Making money online and off should be easy. And it is if you enjoy work—and know the rules.

The trouble with learning what to do is that most successful people do not know what it is they did that made them successful.

My observations while developing training and collateral materials for self-made millionaires for 12 years aroused the suspicion that they threw themselves so completely into their work, that when it became a huge success, they could not let up one bit out of fear it would crumble. They were controlling down to minutiae. In one case, the founder and president had to be forced out and an outsider brought in to save the company!

Artists occasionally fail to make a living at their art for similar reasons. They become too emotionally attached to their work. They overprice, or don’t promote largely out of attachment. Whether they simply want to keep their creation or enjoy the secondary gains of being a “starving artist,” they are invested in doing what they have always done, and doing it all themselves.

Lesson 1: You cannot succeed by yourself. At least business owners masquerade at building teams. Though that can contribute to delusions of grandeur. Face it: control freaks will not win in the end. Whether they die in loneliness or just never make it to the top, people who do not have a large team of mentors, friends, supporters, clients, coaches, or joint venturers are missing the easiest road to riches : people.

It’s not the person with the most toys who wins; it’s the person with the largest Rolodex!

Remember the best thing you learned as a four-year-old? Share! Share the work, the credit, the profit, the ideas, the burdens—and, if you can find a legitimate way to do it, the bills!

Lesson 2: Find out what works. A study out of UCLA on expertise corroborates what I saw in the millionaires I worked with. Experts were defined as people 10 or more years in their field and “at the top of their game.” The question was simple: How effectively could these experts communicate to up-and-comers the key points of their success?

The results were startling. The experts could communicate only 40% of what it was that contributed to their success. It sounds like a joke, but it isn’t—they didn’t know which 40%! In other words, 60% of what they said was essential wasn’t.

It reminds me of the old days of conventions and advancement awards. The emcee would say, “If anyone can tell you how to succeed in business, it is this gentleman. He has…(yada, yada, accomplishment enumeration).

“First of all,” the celebrated awardee would begin, “I want to thank God.” Then continuing, a bit tearfully, “I don’t know how I got where I am today.”

About that point, I wanted my $225 back! But it gets worse.

“If you just do what I’ve done, you can have the same success I’ve had.”

OK, bozo, you just told me you can’t tell me how you succeeded. So, I’m gonna imitate all of the weirdness you are in hopes of replicating the 40% that actually made a difference? Oops, there’s 60% that’s critical that’s still missing in this scenario…

Do ball players who do not change their socks throughout the World Series play better?

Superstition is no substitute for research and testing. What wants your product or service? What will they pay for it? How many will you have to sell to earn a living? How many will you have to sell to create wealth?

Lesson 3: Change what isn’t working. Have you sat through episodes of “The Apprentice” watching a project manager lose control of his or her team, and persist in doing the honorable thing? “I delegated the task, and now I will let them complete it. I’m not going back in to micromanage.”

How many millions of dollars has that cost various participants? Delegation is good up to a point, but the youth with his finger in the dike better have a big enough finger or the whole city will flood!

What could the project manager do with a failing team?

  1. step in and help
  2. ask for problem identification
  3. troubleshoot the problems together
  4. add more team members to that task
  5. change out team members—hey, it happens in the last inning of baseball games all the time, so no whining! Pulling the whole team down doesn’t win points with anyone!
  6. etc.

There are dozens of variations. The bottom line is, “Correct and continue.” Don’t keep doing what you’re doing if it isn’t working! (The classic definition of insanity.)

Even a rat running a maze for cheese will stop eventually if the cheese is no longer ever at a certain point. No so the idealistic human! No! We like to remember, sentimentally, the last time we had that cheese…gouda, wasn’t it? So mellow, so creamy, with just the faintest little bite, ahhh, de-lish! So, we’re stupider than rats when it comes to continuing to do things that no longer work. I know whereof I speak; though, I hope time will bear me out that I have changed my ways.

Lesson 4: Keep the end in mind. It’s easy to get caught up in the action steps of producing or performing and focus entirely on that action. But you know what the relationship of time to tasks is, right? Tasks will always expand to fill the time allotted them for completion.

If the world is waiting for your training, or art, or music or business opportunity, how dare you spend all your time sharpening your pencils and getting ready to get ready?

Hurry to deliver!

I’m not encouraging shoddy quality, but perfection is highly overrated and a big timewaster. Do the job well enough for now, and keep improving as you go along.

Yes, I believe in excellence. On the other side, contemplate this:

You’ve just won the Olympic marathon. As the crowds hang over the coliseum railings, stretching their fingers to touch the smallest part of their new global hero, you’re running a victory lap, proudly carrying the flag of your country. You want to give something back to the fans, so you reach out your other arm to high-five as many as you can on this last lap.

  • Do you slow down to slap each hand dead-center and give the most excellent eye contact and physical touch you can, or…
  • Do you keep running at the same pace, hand outstretched, touching hands or fingers on a constant sweep, seeing as many eyes as you can while you pass by?

I’m asking you to simply consider both sides. The race is not always to the swift; though, in business, it usually is! The first entity with the latest, greatest idea usually wins. Nor is the race always to the meticulous; though, quality is indeed important for long-term success.

Consider: are you doing what you are here to be doing? Or are you too busy?

Image by Cindy Jones from Pixabay

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