Podcast: Download (Duration: 3:28 — 3.2MB)
Today we’re again featuring guest vocalist Amalie Maren covering Ingrid Michaelson’s Keep Breathing. Released by Ingrid in 2008 on her Be OK album, I have to say she has a point…Sometimes life gets tough and all you can do is keep breathing. And you know what? That’s OK.
Podcast: Download (Duration: 3:30 — 3.2MB)
Released by Keith Whitley in 1989, this song epitomizes the struggle a lot of us find ourselves in. With the challenges the economy has caused all of us, it’s no surprise that I feel like I’m no stranger to the rain. The devil sure hasn’t given up on me yet, but he’s gonna have to because I haven’t given in…and I don’t intend to.
Been wanting to do this for some time. This little valley we call home just begs to be photographed. and it’s incredible in it’s Winter beauty. I’m going to get this same view as the seasons change over the coming year.
Podcast: Download (Duration: 2:15 — 2.1MB)
It’s show off time. This is my Daughter, Amalie, covering Ingrid Michaelson’s The Way I Am. Ingrid released it as a single in 2007 and I love Amalie’s voice in this style of music. The lyrics are a good fit too. I believe Amalie would buy you Rogaine if you started losing all your hair.
Podcast: Download (Duration: 3:20 — 2.3MB)
This my cover of John Anderson’s Seminole Wind released in 1992 on his studio album of the same name. It was written by John as a message about the affect urban development has had on the Florida Everglades. I always liked the music and the message. It’s cool to finally have a chance to sing and share it.
Podcast: Download (Duration: 6:47 — 4.7MB)
“Kids will believe anything. And believing something is the first step toward achieving it.”
I was flying down to Arizona recently and between getting boarded and being able to fire up my laptop, I had a little time to kill. So I checked out the Spirit magazine stowed in the pouch in front of me. My mind was elsewhere and I wasn’t paying very close attention to what I was reading until I came to a column at the back titled, “Blessings Counted: Brad Paisley, The country star on luck, true gifts, and underage thinking.” I was struck by Brad’s description of his early performing experience.
“I grew up in a small town called Glen Dale, West Virginia. When I started playing guitar at age 12, the people there gave me more gigs than I could handle. They would constantly say, “Kid you’re great.” Looking back at those videotapes, I don’t think I was great. But if you tell a 12-year-old something enough, he’ll believe you. Kids will believe anything. And believing something is the first step toward achieving it.”
You know, he’s right. You give a kid enough encouragement while he’s a kid and there’ll be no stopping him when he’s an adult. So what kind of encouragement did I get as a kid? Did anyone tell me I was great? Yeah I can remember being told I was great. A lot of people told me I had a great voice. Like I said in The Interludes’ Coney Island Baby post, Kim and Michelle told me I had a good voice. Good enough that they didn’t give up until I joined choir. Then there was the day the football coach told me I had good size and should have played.
I continued to get a lot of encouragement from the people around me as I grew up. I was working as a janitor during a summer term attending college, and my supervisor told me I was too smart to work for someone else. In the Air Force, my CO, a full bird Colonel, told me I should be behind his desk, not him. That impressed me. Many people have told me I have a great voice for broadcasting.
Despite the encouragement of these and others, it’s taken me more than 40 years to finally start acting on their encouragement. If I agree with Brad—and I do—that a kid will believe anything, why has it taken me so long to believe them?
Maybe it has something to do with when I heard the messages. The earliest messages I remember are during and after high school. What about before high school? I don’t remember a lot of encouragement before then. I’m not saying there wasn’t any, but I either didn’t hear it or at some point I stopped believing it. Something had scared me. I was smart enough in grade school to be in the advanced classes, and I had some cool teachers, but the only memories that have stayed with me are of getting my tail chewed for not getting homework done or not writing very nicely. Left hander, what can I say?
What about at home? It’s been said that one of life’s injustices is that our self-esteem is pretty well established by the time we’re about 5 or 6 years old. Before we even have the chance to choose how we’d like to feel about ourselves, the choice is made for us. It’s rough, but it’s reality. So given the fact that I have a hard time digging up much in the way of encouraging messages I received up to the age of 12, I think I can deduce there either weren’t many or some other messages were louder.
So, if I didn’t get positive messages at home, can I give myself permission to bash my parents for not giving me the right encouragement when I was a kid? Can I try to make myself feel better by dragging the memories of my parents through the dirt? I can justify all of my failings by listing all the ways my Mom and Dad failed me and for a short time I’ll probably feel a little better, but in the long run it won’t do anything but sully my family name and make me feel like garbage. It’ll also waste a bunch of time I can instead be using to make real progress.
My Dad fought his demons to the best of his ability so I’d make it farther than he did, and in my opinion he did well. Though he fought a good fight during his lifetime, he couldn’t kill them all, so my dream is to finish the fight he started to help my children and grandchildren make it farther than me.
So now I’ve determined that eventually I did indeed get encouragement just as positive as Brad’s. Mine just came a little later in life. Does that make a difference? Absolutely. It makes a huge difference. By the time I started hearing encouraging words from influential people in my life, my negative perception of reality was so deep it would take 2 decades to dispel. And it’ll take a lifetime of vigilance to keep it away. A kid truly will believe anything and once that belief is planted, the adult that kid grows into is going to have a hard time believing anything else.
So, what are my options? I can accept the negative beliefs I adopted before I even knew what self-esteem was as unalterable fact? I can get angry and bitter and rail against the cosmos for my lot in life? I can suffer in silence and just live out my life avoiding the pain that change might bring about?
I don’t think so.
Sometimes I feel like a middle-aged failure, and I have to remind myself that I only become a failure when I give up. I haven’t given up and I won’t. Napoleon Hill found that nearly all of the successful individuals he interviewed in his research didn’t find their stride until they were in their 40s. I’m finding the same thing in my research. I’ve studied the lives of hundreds of people that battled far greater challenges than I, and their stories remind me it’s not too late to believe the encouragement I heard early in my life. The key is to have the heart of a child. I have to be open to change, and courageous enough to take the same risks I took as a kid. Back then I believed I could ride a bike without training wheels and through the scrapes and stitches I achieved it. Today I believe I can make a life using the talents I received so much encouragement for as a kid, and through the scrapes and stitches, I’m achieving it.
Like Abraham Lincoln, I experience loss and failure and learn from it. Like Joe Louis, I get up when I’m knocked down and find the courage to do what I love. Like Jim Morris and Vince Papale, I trust in my heart and never give up on my dreams. Like Walt Disney, I believe in my ideas and ignore the skeptics and naysayers. And like Tom Monaghan, I focus on what I have, not what I’ve lost.
I’ve been accused of being immature. That’s fine with me. If I’m still a kid, I can still believe in something. And, like Brad Paisley, I know that believing is indeed the first step toward achieving.
I’m glad there’s still some kid left in me, because I still need to believe.
And achieve.
Podcast: Download (Duration: 3:53 — 2.7MB)
Ray Price released For The Good Times on his album of the same name in 1970 and ended up winning Album of the Year from the Academy of Country Music for it. This song takes me back to my time with my Mom in Pinetop Arizona when my Dad was working in Phoenix. Back in the early 70s my Dad’s job in Pinetop came to an end, and he found a job back in Phoenix more than 400 miles away. It took some time to get the cash together to move the family back down to the valley, so Mom and the kids ended up moving out of our house and into a small motel in town and only seeing Dad on the weekends. My Mom had an LP of country music she listened to when she was missing Dad. For The Good Times got played a lot. I love these old country songs and have a lot of fun singing them. Hope you enjoy it.
Want to have a good day? Then make your choice and live it. Making the choice to do so is the biggest step. Regardless of your health, emotional state, or financial circumstances, the decision to choose to have a good day is up to you. That’s the way Art Lark sees it.
A positive attitude is not a gift, nor is it subject to the same health, emotional or financial conditions that Art’s good days are. It a choice. That’s what Cori at Heartistic Desires thinks.
I choose to agree with them both.
Podcast: Download (Duration: 3:16 — 3.0MB)
And the last of the three off the old cassette I found featuring Gary Mauer, Mike Dougall, Harry Sokol and yours truly singing at our last choir concert of 1982. Gary gives the brief intro at the beginning.
Podcast: Download (Duration: 4:00 — 2.7MB)
Here’s another tune from The Interludes at the 1982 Thunderbird Choir concert. There’s one more I’ll get posted soon. Harry starts us off on this one and we’re joined by Kristi Edson.
Podcast: Download (Duration: 4:00 — 2.7MB)
So I came across a box of old cassettes and found a blast from the past. When I was a junior at Thunderbird High School in Phoenix, Arizona, I finally let Kim Murphy and Michelle Rosmann, with whom I shared Mr. Siweks’ junior English class, coax me into joining choir for my senior year. I’m glad I did. I still spent most of the year scared to death and painfully shy, but the one redeeming event that made up for all I let get by me was my decision to sing bass with Mike Dougall (2nd tenor), Harry Sokol (baritone) and Gary Mau(er) (1st tenor) in a quartet between choirs at the last concert of 1982. We called ourselves The Interludes and I had a blast. Since then Mike has gone on to a career in broadcasting, I’ve lost touch with Harry and have no idea what he’s up to and Gary has gone on to a very successful performing career including appearances on Broadway. I decided to take some time to clean up the audio as best I could and share it. This is the first one. I’ll get the others up in coming days. You’ll have to forgive the quality of the recordings. As I said, this was 1982 and we were recorded by somebody’s Dad using one of those old condenser mic tape recorders sitting on the fold out table on his seat in the auditorium. Hope you enjoy it.
Podcast: Download (Duration: 3:14 — 2.2MB)
This song was released in 1973, shortly after Jim Croce’s untimely death. He actually finished recording the album just days before he was lost in a small commercial plane crash. I’ve always loved the message of this song, which has become even more significant to me since my Dad passed away. I used to listen to my older sister wearing the needle right through the vinyl of the album of the same name. Now she’s gone too. Oh if only “I could save time in a bottle.”
Podcast: Download (Duration: 8:41 — 6.0MB)
Choices.
I still have choices.
Sometimes the turmoil surrounding me tries to make me feel helpless. Like my situation is hopeless and out of my control. It’s not true. If there’s one thing my situation is teaching me, it’s that I can lose control of almost every aspect of my life except my attitude and my freedom to choose.
I choose to get up each morning. I choose how to face each day. I choose to be positive or negative. I choose to keep going or to give up.
Which reminds me of an old dry well and a wise old mule.
You see there was a farmer that had an abandoned well on his property. Though the well had been dry for years, all he’d ever done to close it up was throw some boards over it. Well, as luck would have it, one day his old mule wandered over those rickety boards and Crash! Down she went. Incredibly, the fall didn’t kill her, but it definitely scared the bajeezes out of her and her brays attracted the attention of the whole farm. Everyone came running. Initially pleased that she had survived the fall, their joy slowly turned to despair as their attempts to rescue her failed one after another and they slowly ran out of ideas. Finally, the farmer made the difficult decision that they would just have to bury her right there in the well. He gathered his neighbors and they went to work. Of course, as the first shovelfuls of dirt landed on her back, that poor old mule’s cries intensified, but as the farmer and his neighbors continued; her cries slowly faded and were finally silenced. Amidst sadness and tears, they continued their work and it was some time later that the farmer thought he heard something. It was the sound of shuffling, and it was coming from inside the well. He stopped his work and, while the others continued, leaned over to look into the well. To his astonishment, there was the old mule! She was much higher now and his curiosity about why she wasn’t buried compelled him to watch as his neighbors continued. As each shovelful of dirt landed on the old mule’s back, she would shake it off, take a step up and be closer to the surface. Eventually the level of the dirt that was supposed to bury her was high enough that she simply stepped out of the well and walked off.
Like the farmer’s old mule wandered over that hidden well, I’ve made mistakes and find myself in a deep hole from which no one can save me. In my situation, I’m faced with choices. I can give in to my depression and discouragement and simply stand idle while the problems and challenges heap up and bury me. I can panic amidst the challenges thrown down on me and waste huge amounts of energy throwing myself against the walls or trying to claw my way out until I’m exhausted, bloodied and beaten.
Or, I can get a little mule sense and do everything in my power to stay calm, fight back my fear and doubt and confront the challenges before me with a clear head. Instead of being overwhelmed by the enormity of my problems as a whole, I take each shovelful as it comes, shake it off, learn how to rise above it, and then use my new knowledge to take a step up. With each problem I overcome, I find myself rising higher and drawing closer to the top of my own dry well. Shaking off future challenges is less difficult as my confidence grows from my successes, and eventually I’ll reach the surface and regain my freedom. There may be someone who can just lift me out, but if that’s the way I make my escape, this hole will remain and I will have gained little knowledge of how to avoid it in the future or how to get myself out when I fall in again. I want this hole filled in, which means I have to overcome these challenges on my own so this particular dry well will no longer be a risk to me. I want to remember the lessons I’m learning. The knowledge and experience I’m gaining by shaking off and overcoming the problems and struggles heaped on me in this hole will make it far less likely for me to fall into the same hole again.
It’s hard to see my current challenges as a good thing. They’re tough. They’re heartbreaking. Sometimes I’m sure I can’t take one more setback without breaking down and giving up. I have to work hard to find new reserves of strength and confidence. I’m constantly fighting back discouragement and depression, but I’m comforted with the knowledge that I’m in good company.
Great leaders are not great because they’re always right. They’re not great because they never experience fear, depression, doubt or anger. Throughout history, truly great leaders distinguished themselves by their humility; selfless service to country, cause or people and by their perseverance in studying out solutions to the problems before them. But most of all, great leaders are those with enough courage to make decisions in the face of withering responsibility and pressure, and live with the consequences of those decisions.
Abraham Lincoln was constantly tormented by bouts of depression. Referred to by his friends and associates as his “melancholy”, it was his grim feelings that kept his emotions close to the surface. He could weep openly; he had a penchant for maudlin poetry and odd jokes which he claimed his survival depended on.
Winston Churchill referred to the bouts of depression he experienced throughout his life as his “black dogs”. They were particularly frequent and debilitating during his service as Prime Minister. For years he saw his warnings of Germany’s ambitions ignored, only to be called upon to lead the country when they began to be carried out and after Germany had developed enough military strength to make any attempt to halt those ambitions a long and difficult struggle.
The Second World War would eventually require the services of another great leader; one whose life would be similarly marked not by ambition, entitlement, or privilege, but by dedicated service to his country. Dwight D. Eisenhower experienced his own bouts of depression exacerbated by the pressures and responsibilities thrust upon him as the supreme commander of the allied forces in Europe and the one man upon whom the decision would rest to give the go ahead for the invasion of German occupied Normandy. General Eisenhower would find some of his courage in as many as 20 cups of coffee and 4 packs of cigarettes each day. He would also spend many hours alone with his thoughts. His was a high and lonely command.
Formidable challenges before me mean difficult choices must be made. Many years ago, a very wise counselor gave me a piece of advice that I have since turned into a mantra. I sought her out during another difficult time in my life and in the midst of my descriptions of all the problems that stymied me at that time, she advised me to find a little time to be gentle with myself. She said I needed to find the space to get my thoughts together. She promised all of my problems and responsibilities would wait and that I would be better able to address them with a clear head and in a calm state of mind. She was right then and it continues to work for me. Sometimes it’s a nap; sometimes a good book; sometimes it’s an hour and sometimes a week, but it just means pulling away from the challenge that is overwhelming long enough to let the depression, discouragement and panic pass and allow my mind to work it out.
I can’t know, with certainty, the outcome of every decision I make, nor can I foresee how my decisions will affect my future. Tomorrows choices will be determined by the consequences of the choices I make today.
I’m certainly not the first person to acknowledge the painful truth that life would be empty without the growth experienced by overcoming challenges and taking steps up.
They can take away everything I’ve worked for, but they can’t take away my power to choose.
I still have choices.
I choose to dream, to hope, and to have faith.
Podcast: Download (Duration: 7:42 — 7.0MB)
I’m flying down to my hometown, Phoenix, this weekend. I’ll be saying goodbye to my sister. At 53, her body is wasted by a lifelong battle with diabetes. Miraculous kidney transplants have carried her nearly a decade beyond her predicted life expectancy, but her strength is exhausted and she’s too weak to be on the list for another. She’s tired of the dialysis roller coaster, and ready to concede her battle to the disease brought on by a pancreas that couldn’t keep up. I’m awed by the fight she has waged, and I can’t fathom what she and her dear husband must be going through in making this decision. Soon her fight will come to an end and the disease will have won…or will it? She’s beaten the odds for her life expectancy; she’s touched countless numbers of lives for good; she’s been at death’s door more times than I can remember, each time fighting back to have a little more time with her husband and family. Many times and in many ways she has cowed this disease that has slowly deteriorated her body. For that I consider her victorious in the fight of her life.
And she leaves on her own terms…
How are you doing?
I was in a class recently and the teacher shared an experience that got me thinking. He described conversations he had engaged in with a couple of close friends. During the course of the conversations, each of his friends shared that they were giving up on goals or commitments they had made to themselves or to others with the explanation that “they are just tired of fighting.”
They’re just tired of fighting.
Of course, they also could’ve said they’re just tired of growing; or climbing; or improving; or learning; or changing.
Sadly, few of us ever have the pleasure of knowing when our “fight” is going to be over. One of life’s most daunting mysteries is that the future remains unknown until we arrive. Our challenge is to keep fighting; learning; increasing, with no knowledge of how much time we’ll be given, or how long our fight will go on. Often, even the desired objective changes in the midst of the fight.
There’s a billboard along the highway near my home displaying an image of Abraham Lincoln, our 16th President and one of the greatest leaders who has ever lived. Written beside his image are the words, “Failed, failed, failed, and then…” Do you think he ever got tired of fighting? According to John A. Sarkett, in Extraordinary Comebacks, and Darcy Andries, in The Secret of Success is Not a Secret, Abraham Lincoln could have decided he was tired of fighting after the death of his fiancée Ann Rutledge, or after his first or second dry goods store failed. He could have decided he was tired of fighting when he was defeated in his bids for Speaker of the House of Representatives, for the U.S. Senate, for Vice President, and again for the Senate. Instead, he chose to fight on. And how grateful we are that his “greatest concern (was) not whether (he had) failed, but whether (he became) content with (his) failure.”
Which failure do you think should have given him enough reason to be tired of fighting?
Almost a century later, on December 17th, 1944 the U.S. Army’s 101st Airborne Division joined the Battle of the Bulge arriving in the city of Bastogne ahead of German forces. The 101st formed a perimeter around the city and withstood German artillery with minimal supplies and with many members of the division having been deployed so quickly they arrived without winter clothes. On the fifth day of the siege, the German artillery barrage paused and two German Officers delivered a letter from the German Commander, Generalleutnant Heinrich Freiherr von Lüttwitz, requesting the surrender of Bastogne. Acting commander, General Anthony McAuliffe’s single word response was “Nuts!” In the end the 101st held Bastogne until reinforcements arrived never allowing it to fall into enemy hands.
At what point do you think they were tired of fighting?
Another half century later, during the 1980 Winter Olympic Games in Lake Placid, New York, the U.S. Olympic hockey team would come from behind in six of the seven games they would win on their way to the gold medal.
When do you think they should have given up the fight?
The problem with far too many of us is that we excuse ourselves before the fight is over.
Obviously, these examples are intended to inspire those ready to give up the fight, but my hope is that they are also a source of strength to those who want to fight on but whose hope may be flagging. What if you’re among those who’ve found the strength to claw your way forward a few more inches; a few more days; another step; you’ve dug deep to find the last dregs of hope hidden in your heart only to find another obstacle in your way. You have no interest in excusing yourself from the challenges before you, but you’re beginning to fear just how long these last vestiges of hope will hold out.
While the stories of those who eventually succeeded in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds appear to ask us to give more to the fight than we have to give, they also remind us that the fight isn’t over. And if the fight isn’t over, we’re not beaten. The fight goes on and there’s still time to turn the tables and overcome the obstacles that stand in our way. Study the lives of those who found the strength to fight; to grow; to learn; to stretch; to change.
We can explore untapped talents and skills. We can find the strength to accept our weaknesses and seek out those who can help us turn them into strengths. We have to develop the discipline to stop doing what we’ve done in order to stop getting we’ve gotten.
Thomas Edison believed “Many of life’s failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up.”
Success is attainable and it’s closer than we realize.
This is the fight of your life.
It’s the fight for your life.
Failure…is not an option.
Podcast: Download (Duration: 4:39 — 4.3MB)
Released by Toby Keith in 1994 on his second studio album, Boomtown. I’ve always loved the sadness in the music and lyrics of this song. I’m lucky enough to have escaped this pain, because of the woman that stayed with me when I wasn’t worth keeping. I’m blessed and I love her with all my heart.
Podcast: Download (Duration: 8:48 — 8.1MB)
I played Little League for 8 years as a kid.
Loved it.
Funny thing is; I loved it never having been on a winning team. I was dead last every year.
Alright, wipe the smirk off your face; I wasn’t the reason I was never on a winning team.
Actually, I was pretty good. My first year, I was with the Indians. We were terrible. We never even got a run until one practice our coach told us we wouldn’t score until we hit the ball. Heck, up to that point, none of us would even swing at the ball! At our next game, I remembered the coach’s advice, and swung at a pitch. I connected! It was awesome! We still didn’t win, but my hit broke things open and we started scoring. For just the briefest of moments I loved being the hero that got the first hit. But within seconds all the attention got my alarms going off and I was ready to fade into the background again.
Over the next eight years that same scene was repeated many times. I was good, and loved the game. But every time I made a good play, I was simultaneously elated and terrified by the attention. By the time I grew out of Little League and reached high school, my fear won out and I chose the safety and security of anonymity.
Early on in my freshman PE class, we worked on track and field events. Without realizing it, I blew away my classmates in the long jump far enough that my coach suggested I try out for the track team. He told me I could be a real competitor with some training on my technique. His encouragement really got me fired up to go out for the team, so I worked my tail off for the next couple of months until track and field tryouts. On the day of the tryouts, I jumped on my bike early in the morning and raced for the stadium. When I got there I pulled up outside the gate and stopped to look at the crowd gathered on the football field.
Then I looked some more.
Then I slowly turned my bike around and rode back home.
I couldn’t bring myself to go through that gate.
Similar scenes played out all the way through high school including a half-hearted attempt to make the baseball team my junior year. Every baseball practice was spent embarrassed, terrified and subconsciously sabotaging my chances in order to insure a speedy escape in the first cuts. And I always saw myself as too scrawny to make the football team—despite spending every year lifting weights in Systematic Conditioning class. I ran into the coach in the locker room —after football season my senior year—he actually told me I had good size and asked me why I didn’t play.
Aaaagh!
For those of you with no idea what I’m talking about, consider yourselves very lucky.
For those who can relate to these feelings all too well, it’s time to leave the safety of obscurity and find the courage to face the truth. We’re wasting way too much of our lives simultaneously driven to succeed and yet terrified of success.
That’s right; it’s the fear of success not failure that holds us back. In I Could Do Anything, If I Only Knew What It Was, Barbara Sher does a great job covering this phenomenon. Amongst numerous examples, she describes the all too familiar scenario of the gifted person who’s given numerous golden opportunities only to stumble and fall just at the moment success is within reach. The reasons we stumble are as varied as we are. She offers some suggestions, but ultimately can’t tell me why I’ve done it and I can’t tell you. What I can tell you is that it’s time we face down the enemy (ourselves) and find the courage to come out of hiding.
Jack Canfield, in The Success Principles, compares the way we live to driving a car with the emergency brake on. He makes the point that many of us go through life hanging on to negative self-images and preprogrammed comfort zones like psychological emergency brakes restraining our efforts to succeed. He goes on to suggest that rather than trying to exert more will power, like pressing harder on the gas pedal, we need to release the brakes and replace our current programming with more positive and productive attitudes that take us out of our comfort zones.
I’ll warn you right now; making progress will take a lot of research, critical self-analysis, painful honesty and a mountain of courage. Even in the midst of those high school experiences, I maintained a courageous façade. I didn’t really want to make those teams anyway. And while I got pretty good at convincing those around me, no one was more convinced of the validity of my excuses than me. I could regurgitate a long list of perceived successes to allay any of my doubts. My security lay in carefully choosing my battles, only confronting the challenges I knew were within my comfort zone.
No risk, no growth, no worries.
No more.
I refuse to burn up any more of my precious time avoiding real challenges and living within my self-made prison. I intend to see and be seen; to hear and be heard; to challenge and be challenged. I intend to let the world know I exist and bask in the glory of success or be refined in the fire of experience.
I love the scene in “Transformers” where Sam and Mikaela experience their first face-to-face communication with Bumblebee. Sam and Mikaela have just fought off Frenzy while Bumblebee was subduing Barricade. They discover that they can talk to Bumblebee and he can respond using sound bites from his radio. At the end of their exchange, Bumblebee transforms back into a Camaro, invites them in with an open door and says—using a John Wayne sound bite from “El Dorado” — “any more questions you wan’ta ask?” Sam says he thinks Bumblebee wants them to get in the car. Incredulous, Mikaela asks “and go where?” And the best part is Sam’s closing question to Mikaela…
“Fifty years from now when you look back at your life, don’t you wan’ta be able to say you had the guts to get in the car?”
Well…
…don’t you?
Podcast: Download (Duration: 5:09 — 4.7MB)
Ever known one of those people that seem to know exactly when they will be “old?”
They’re the ones who call you “kid” even though they’re actually maybe one year older than you. Every sentence starts with, “when you get to be my age,” or “when you’re as old as I am.”
Drives me nuts.
I had a dream last night obviously inspired by my feelings on this subject.
In my dream I was interacting with an elderly man that was out-performing me in everything we were working on. He was more active, stronger; he had greater stamina, and a better attitude as we worked. At one point my exasperation got the better of me and I finally said, “Man! How do you do it?” He looked amused by my frustration and asked, “Do what?” I replied, “Well, you’re stronger than me, you’ve got more stamina than me, your attitude is better than mine…how do you do it at your age?” At this, he got a quizzical look on his face and asked, “What d’ya mean my age?”
I was suddenly embarrassed and, as gently as I could, said, “Well…you’re so…old.”
At this his eyebrows went way up, a grin crossed his face and he said, “I am?”
Then he got a thoughtful expression on his face and went on to say, “Well, now that you mention it, I suppose I am quite a bit old-er than you are, but I’ve never thought of myself as old. I mean what is old anyway? I guess I never took the time to decide what old would be for me, so I’ve never gotten there. Granted living day-to-day requires quite a bit more maintenance now than it did 20 or 30 years ago but, old? I wouldn’t recognize it if I saw it.”
He went on to say something that struck me as odd at the time. He said, “I walk on the heads of people my age.”
What the…?
Then I woke up.
Now the old age stuff was clear enough but, regarding the “walking on the heads” comment…
That one had me scratching my head when I woke up, but a long time ago Cori and I discovered dream dictionaries. We’ve researched the symbolism of our dreams for years. You have to take some of the information provided by dream researchers with a grain of salt (they can get a little…mystical…if you know what I mean). But we’ve found some of the symbolism fascinating.
Like this latest dream for instance. The elderly gentleman in my dream said he “walks on the heads of people his age,” and when he said it my view was as though I was looking up at him as he did it. Where the heck did my subconscious mind get that?
Well…
It sounds bad at first but dream dictionaries describe seeing a head in a dream as a possible representation of accomplishments, self-image, and perception of the world. It can also be a metaphor to indicate that you are “ahead” in some situation or that you need to get ahead. Well that would sure fit in my current situation; I’m working like the devil to get ahead.
I’m feeling the years because Cori and I are empty nesters for the first time in our lives and though that threatens to make us think we should be old, we don’t feel it. Neither of us ever decided when old would be. We actually feel stronger and more confident every day. We have no idea how long that’s going to last but we have no intention of picking some distant date or age when we’ll quit growing and learning.
Old.
What is it to you?
Do you spend your time and energy waiting for it? Have you found yourself already there even though there’s a part of you that believes you should have more to live for?
There are many that are slowed by physical or emotional infirmities as the years pass and their bodies’ age. But, before we resign ourselves to an inevitable degradation of our usefulness and virility, it’s important to keep in mind that there are just as many slowed by infirmities in their youth.
The truth is, what slows us in life has little to do with age, but more to do with activity or inactivity.
If you awaken each day worrying what new overwhelming obstacle time will present you, I want you to stop. Spend today focused on developing the strengths and talents you have now, because the best way to insure you have them tomorrow is to use them today.
“One of the most tragic things I know about human nature is that all of us tend to put off living. We are all dreaming of some magical rose garden over the horizon – instead of enjoying the roses that are blooming outside our windows today.” -Dale Carnegie
Podcast: Download (Duration: 3:51 — 3.5MB)
Dierks Bentley released this song in 2005 on his Modern Day Drifter CD. My daughter, Nikaela, just recently turned me on to his music. Love it. I like to see musicians performing tunes that give a nod to classic country. I like performing these songs because it takes me back to when I was a kid. Good times.
Podcast: Download (Duration: 4:37 — 4.2MB)
Originally released by Trace Adkins on his first greatest hits compilation in 2003, this song hits very close to home with Cori and I since we’ve recently become “empty nesters.” This is actually the second time I’m posting this song. I did some remastering and like the sound better…always learning…
I just couldn’t resist getting a shot of this setting we found on our trip up American Fork Canyon. It looked like something out of a travel brochure. All my life I’ve loved getting out and finding these kinds of settings. They let you know there’s still beauty all around you if you’ll just make the effort to get out of the office and go find it.
