What do they say? An idle mind is the devil’s workshop? Not sure how that goes but me thinks I can relate. Sunday morning started out with some promise. As one eye opened I saw the sunrise. My heart leapt with joy. I had gone to bed the night before thinking my golf game would be rained out. Here I found myself hoping. I jumped out of bed, and if you believe that I have some other stories for you, to check the forecast. Truth be told I dragged my sorry butt out of bed to see what awaited me.
To the east the sky looked clear. Although I would not know that because our house is not in line with the world. What would appear to be east is actually more north. To the west I saw clouds. Although, again, to the west is actually more to the south. However, if all else fails, check the internet. Ooops. Does not look good. Rain coming. What to do?
Ended up sitting at home all day. Never sure what the weather would do. Not a problem except midway through the afternoon my wife and I found ourselves gazing out the window at our deck. We had known for a while that work would have to be done but were not sure whether we had the energy or resources to do what needed to be done. I suppose it was a weak moment. Perhaps the monotony was a driving force. Call it what you may. We decided it was time. At least to do part of it.
So I started. Now wishing I had not. What earlier looked like a doable project has turned into a muscle aching, heart rendering project that may never end. Okay. I may be overstating that. But I do hurt. And to think I have a golf game to maintain. Wait a minute. There is nothing to maintain. That too, is a work in progress.
So part way through this week my son sent me a quote. It got me thinking, which comes as no surprise to most of you. Thinking about quotes is what I do best. Here goes. “The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are so certain of themselves but wise people are so full of doubt.” (Bertrand Russell)
Perhaps I may go where I should not. But I will. I find it interesting how people have certain opinions. They stand staunchly for what they believe in. Sometimes I wonder if they have actually thought this through. Whether politically, religiously or any other way there might be, people hang their hats on certain beliefs and stand by that. They maintain that their beliefs or opinions are the one and only.
Sometimes I am envious of those people. Perhaps it makes the world easier to understand. Then again how do I understand when I discover that there are many that have different belief systems than I do? There are many that are experiencing life in a different way than I am. There are cultural differences. As far as I am concerned we do not live in a black and white world. There are various, dare I say many, different shades of gray. We must remain cognizant of that.
Having said that I will quit while I am ahead, if that is possible. So at the end of it all I am still uncertain which category I fall into. A fool, fanatic, or someone that is filled with doubts? I know I am filled with doubts. Whether politically, spiritually, or in any other sense of this world I live in. Does that make me wise? Me thinks not. But I am working on it. Make it a good one.
The Recovering Farmer
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
Tuesday, May 20, 2014
The Things We Do
I just read a short blurb by Richard Branson. Now let me make this very clear. I am not a big fan of his. Okay, truth be told, I wouldn’t mind having some of his money and how about that hair. However in the blurb he says, and I quote; “If I were 22, I would be out working hard, playing hard and having the time of my life. Hang on, what's the difference between 22 and 63?” What a great thought.
How often do I get caught up in the past and what might have been and forget to live my life? Sorry, didn’t mean to ask you that question. I suspect anyone that reads my blurbs will suggest the answer to the question is, far too often. As humans we seem to have this innate desire to blame everything on the past and then we forget to live.
Sometimes I even forget the fact that I am living and that there are good thing happening in life. A friend asked me this morning how my weekend had been. My first inclination was to respond by saying it was a weekend. Why would I say anything else? After all my mind was consumed by challenges in my life.
When I finally did respond it went like this. I golfed Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Twice with friends from the community and once with my daughter’s boyfriend. Saturday our grandson came over to spend the night. Sunday morning the kids all came over for brunch cooked by our daughter. Monday I built a coffee table with my daughter. What the heck. I had an awesome weekend.
You heard me right. I built a coffee table. My daughter had found some wood that she thought would look good as a coffee table top. Add to that a naivety about her father’s carpentry skills and we have a project. Okay, truth be told, there is another part to this story. I tried to find every excuse in the book to get out of doing this. No excuse worked. And then my daughter used the ultimate tool. Guilt. Manipulation by guilt. My mother would have been proud. My daughter commented on how often I had taken her brothers golfing but never done anything for her. So in her opinion it was a done deal. At that point whether I had the skills to do this or not, it was going to happen.
Now you must know that I do have certain carpentry skills. I have built some things in my life. However you must also understand that if there was not a chainsaw around I would not even consider starting the project. A chainsaw was a necessity. And quite useful I might add. For coffee tables, not so much.
It did happen. I came to understand that with a little planning, which only involved three trips to Home Depot, a great deal of patience and lots of encouragement from my wife and daughter, I did have the ability to complete the project. It was fun. It turned out okay. Perhaps this can become a new career for me. Building furniture.
Don’t place your orders just yet. I think I need some practice. Perhaps even a diagram. Last night as I was reveling in what I had accomplished I realized we had forgotten an important piece. However the consensus was that it looked good, no further work required. Any flaws there were would get covered by paint. Works for me. Mission accomplished. Make it a good one.
How often do I get caught up in the past and what might have been and forget to live my life? Sorry, didn’t mean to ask you that question. I suspect anyone that reads my blurbs will suggest the answer to the question is, far too often. As humans we seem to have this innate desire to blame everything on the past and then we forget to live.
Sometimes I even forget the fact that I am living and that there are good thing happening in life. A friend asked me this morning how my weekend had been. My first inclination was to respond by saying it was a weekend. Why would I say anything else? After all my mind was consumed by challenges in my life.
When I finally did respond it went like this. I golfed Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Twice with friends from the community and once with my daughter’s boyfriend. Saturday our grandson came over to spend the night. Sunday morning the kids all came over for brunch cooked by our daughter. Monday I built a coffee table with my daughter. What the heck. I had an awesome weekend.
You heard me right. I built a coffee table. My daughter had found some wood that she thought would look good as a coffee table top. Add to that a naivety about her father’s carpentry skills and we have a project. Okay, truth be told, there is another part to this story. I tried to find every excuse in the book to get out of doing this. No excuse worked. And then my daughter used the ultimate tool. Guilt. Manipulation by guilt. My mother would have been proud. My daughter commented on how often I had taken her brothers golfing but never done anything for her. So in her opinion it was a done deal. At that point whether I had the skills to do this or not, it was going to happen.
Now you must know that I do have certain carpentry skills. I have built some things in my life. However you must also understand that if there was not a chainsaw around I would not even consider starting the project. A chainsaw was a necessity. And quite useful I might add. For coffee tables, not so much.
It did happen. I came to understand that with a little planning, which only involved three trips to Home Depot, a great deal of patience and lots of encouragement from my wife and daughter, I did have the ability to complete the project. It was fun. It turned out okay. Perhaps this can become a new career for me. Building furniture.
Don’t place your orders just yet. I think I need some practice. Perhaps even a diagram. Last night as I was reveling in what I had accomplished I realized we had forgotten an important piece. However the consensus was that it looked good, no further work required. Any flaws there were would get covered by paint. Works for me. Mission accomplished. Make it a good one.
Saturday, May 10, 2014
Don’t Sell Yourself Short
As I alluded to some time ago I am in the process of re-inventing my business. It was time to freshen up. Get with the now. With the type of business I have this becomes a difficult task for me. I am not selling a product. I am selling a service and to sell a service you need to sell yourself and to sell yourself you have to portray a certain confidence.
My son and I, bless his soul, took to the streets of Winnipeg this week. Seek out businesses that could, perhaps, use my services. Notice? Even in that statement I sound apologetic. My son embraced the job with enthusiasm. He approached the job with confidence. There was nothing holding him back. He jumped in with both feet. It was really neat to watch.
One of the places we went to, and it shall remain nameless although their receptionist needs a lesson in how to greet people, my son went into his spiel and tripped over his sales pitch. We walked out. He was mad at himself. He gave himself a tongue lashing. I took some comfort from that because that is a regular occurrence for me. I told him to get over it. I can preach it even if I can’t practice it.
We drove further down the street and a business caught my son’s eye. He said we needed to go there. He knew someone there. We pulled in, he grabbed some brochures, and confidently entered the business. My excuse for not going with him was that I needed to make a really important phone call. When he came out he was all smiles. It had been a success. People were interested. He felt he had redeemed himself.
I suggested to him that our mission that day was similar to a game of golf. You go out. You start whacking the ball. You have all sorts of expectations. And then reality hits. But as you all know, at least if you are a golfer, you make one good shot, you have one good hole, you know you will be back tomorrow. In fact there are some of us who don’t even have to have a good hole to come back the next day.
My son looked at me and informed me that there is actually a name for this. It is called intermittent positive reinforcement. He explained that gamblers often fall into this trap. The concept is simple enough. One small win and we are fooled into thinking that losing is impossible. Whether golf, gambling, our workplace, dare I say kids, perhaps even relationships, that becomes our mindset.
We know full well that nobody ever has only positive events in their lives. At least I don’t think so. Now, perhaps, if I was in perfect health, lots of money, good relationships, good job, although why would I need a job if I have lots of money, weather was always perfect, golf shots always went as planned, and there were absolutely no challenges in life, my life would be perfect, right? Probably not.
So we carry on. We have challenges that arise. How we deal with these challenges becomes the issue. The other day, as I was traveling into the city not feeling very good about my lot in life, I began to think of all the positive blessings I have in my life. I found my mood getting better. In some unknown way I was utilizing intermittent positive reinforcement. To me that helped in regaining focus on life. The kind of focus that helps me move forward. The kind of focus that helps me carry on in a positive way. The kind of positive that helps me get up in the morning to face the day. The kind of positive reinforcement I wish on all. Perhaps it is in our control. Think about it. Make it a good one.
My son and I, bless his soul, took to the streets of Winnipeg this week. Seek out businesses that could, perhaps, use my services. Notice? Even in that statement I sound apologetic. My son embraced the job with enthusiasm. He approached the job with confidence. There was nothing holding him back. He jumped in with both feet. It was really neat to watch.
One of the places we went to, and it shall remain nameless although their receptionist needs a lesson in how to greet people, my son went into his spiel and tripped over his sales pitch. We walked out. He was mad at himself. He gave himself a tongue lashing. I took some comfort from that because that is a regular occurrence for me. I told him to get over it. I can preach it even if I can’t practice it.
We drove further down the street and a business caught my son’s eye. He said we needed to go there. He knew someone there. We pulled in, he grabbed some brochures, and confidently entered the business. My excuse for not going with him was that I needed to make a really important phone call. When he came out he was all smiles. It had been a success. People were interested. He felt he had redeemed himself.
I suggested to him that our mission that day was similar to a game of golf. You go out. You start whacking the ball. You have all sorts of expectations. And then reality hits. But as you all know, at least if you are a golfer, you make one good shot, you have one good hole, you know you will be back tomorrow. In fact there are some of us who don’t even have to have a good hole to come back the next day.
My son looked at me and informed me that there is actually a name for this. It is called intermittent positive reinforcement. He explained that gamblers often fall into this trap. The concept is simple enough. One small win and we are fooled into thinking that losing is impossible. Whether golf, gambling, our workplace, dare I say kids, perhaps even relationships, that becomes our mindset.
We know full well that nobody ever has only positive events in their lives. At least I don’t think so. Now, perhaps, if I was in perfect health, lots of money, good relationships, good job, although why would I need a job if I have lots of money, weather was always perfect, golf shots always went as planned, and there were absolutely no challenges in life, my life would be perfect, right? Probably not.
So we carry on. We have challenges that arise. How we deal with these challenges becomes the issue. The other day, as I was traveling into the city not feeling very good about my lot in life, I began to think of all the positive blessings I have in my life. I found my mood getting better. In some unknown way I was utilizing intermittent positive reinforcement. To me that helped in regaining focus on life. The kind of focus that helps me move forward. The kind of focus that helps me carry on in a positive way. The kind of positive that helps me get up in the morning to face the day. The kind of positive reinforcement I wish on all. Perhaps it is in our control. Think about it. Make it a good one.
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
I Wonder Why
News headline of the day. “U.S. prison officials accidently kill man they were trying to execute.”
Seriously. Not kidding. Found in the April 30, 2014 edition of the National Post.
Last night as I was trying to settle down and get, at minimum, a decent night’s sleep I thought of the title for this because there are two things that I want to mention. Okay. Rant. I need to rant. The point being that the headline mentioned above has nothing to do with what I am about to say. It just caught my eye as I was trying to wake up with my morning coffee. Although it did make me wonder.
I need to give credit to a lot of people. I have a new sense of appreciation for all these folks that I see deftly handling whatever mode of communication is the flavor of the day. So I needed a new phone. Well, perhaps not a phone but a new number. I suppose after two years it was time to get rid of the Brandon number. Tough to do. I have had that since 1991. That is when I got my first cell phone. How things have changed. I have gone from a bag phone to a “brick” to little device called a flip phone to a Blackberry to an Iphone and numerous different versions in between. HELP.
It wasn’t supposed to happen that way but it did. I was coerced into purchasing the Iphone. So I am learning new technology again. Not any easier than it has been in the past. Then I wonder why. Why do we need this technology? Why do I feel lost without a phone attached to my hip? Why do I have to be in constant contact? Why, why, why? Gets very frustrating.
For the last six months, pretty close to the day, I have been wondering when the golf course would open. I missed golf. I missed the camaraderie of my golfing friends. I missed the exercise. I missed the thrill of hitting a ball on the sweet spot. I missed the feel of winning some money. Albeit pocket change.
Last night I had an invitation to venture out. First round of the year. Half way through the round I was desperately trying to figure out why I would want to partake in this sport. The grass was brown. The wind was howling. The ground was wet. The greens were not green. After 15 holes I was down most of my life savings, or approximately $3.25. I was tired. My feet hurt. Really? I wondered why.
Then as the sun was setting and the wind chill dipped to a balmy -20 we approached the 17th hole. Dead into the wind. I used a knock down shot, whatever that means. I lost sight of the ball as it sailed into the horizon. My partners suggested it was good although I have no idea how they knew. They were pouring fireballs. Somehow that seemed much more appropriate. Nonetheless as I walked up to the green I saw my ball. Pin high. Just a matter of putting it into the hole. And I did. From thirty feet. A birdie. A win. Nothing else mattered.
After that I did not need to wonder anymore. I knew I would be back. I know the conditions will get better. I will figure out my phone. I will figure out this game called golf. I will figure out this thing called life. It is called keeping the faith. And that, quite frankly, is all I have. Faith. Let’s see how that works out for me. Make it a good one.
Seriously. Not kidding. Found in the April 30, 2014 edition of the National Post.
Last night as I was trying to settle down and get, at minimum, a decent night’s sleep I thought of the title for this because there are two things that I want to mention. Okay. Rant. I need to rant. The point being that the headline mentioned above has nothing to do with what I am about to say. It just caught my eye as I was trying to wake up with my morning coffee. Although it did make me wonder.
I need to give credit to a lot of people. I have a new sense of appreciation for all these folks that I see deftly handling whatever mode of communication is the flavor of the day. So I needed a new phone. Well, perhaps not a phone but a new number. I suppose after two years it was time to get rid of the Brandon number. Tough to do. I have had that since 1991. That is when I got my first cell phone. How things have changed. I have gone from a bag phone to a “brick” to little device called a flip phone to a Blackberry to an Iphone and numerous different versions in between. HELP.
It wasn’t supposed to happen that way but it did. I was coerced into purchasing the Iphone. So I am learning new technology again. Not any easier than it has been in the past. Then I wonder why. Why do we need this technology? Why do I feel lost without a phone attached to my hip? Why do I have to be in constant contact? Why, why, why? Gets very frustrating.
For the last six months, pretty close to the day, I have been wondering when the golf course would open. I missed golf. I missed the camaraderie of my golfing friends. I missed the exercise. I missed the thrill of hitting a ball on the sweet spot. I missed the feel of winning some money. Albeit pocket change.
Last night I had an invitation to venture out. First round of the year. Half way through the round I was desperately trying to figure out why I would want to partake in this sport. The grass was brown. The wind was howling. The ground was wet. The greens were not green. After 15 holes I was down most of my life savings, or approximately $3.25. I was tired. My feet hurt. Really? I wondered why.
Then as the sun was setting and the wind chill dipped to a balmy -20 we approached the 17th hole. Dead into the wind. I used a knock down shot, whatever that means. I lost sight of the ball as it sailed into the horizon. My partners suggested it was good although I have no idea how they knew. They were pouring fireballs. Somehow that seemed much more appropriate. Nonetheless as I walked up to the green I saw my ball. Pin high. Just a matter of putting it into the hole. And I did. From thirty feet. A birdie. A win. Nothing else mattered.
After that I did not need to wonder anymore. I knew I would be back. I know the conditions will get better. I will figure out my phone. I will figure out this game called golf. I will figure out this thing called life. It is called keeping the faith. And that, quite frankly, is all I have. Faith. Let’s see how that works out for me. Make it a good one.
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
Let’s Open A Window
As many self-employed people know there are times when it seems that we will never catch up to the work we have committed to. Perhaps commitments made in weak moments. Perhaps commitments made when we remembered the last time we were short on work. Regardless of the situation we find ourselves over doing it. We become tired. We become discouraged. We plug along hoping to someday catch up.
Then there are times when we have no work lined up. Seems to be feast or famine. Then we struggle to find work. Some of us struggle with self-esteem. We wonder if our gig is up. I keep being reminded of that saying; “inside each self-assured professional is a neurotic hoping to succeed before he is found out”. Does that mean I am busted? Found out? Perhaps there is nothing left for me. Perhaps being a Walmart greeter is all I can hope for.
Then I sit back and look at what I have done over the last years. I realize that I have a certain expertise I can share. Share with others so they too can enjoy life. I should not sell myself short. But I do. This week I have been pushed, pulled and dragged into an endeavor I am not sure about. Advertise myself? Promote? Really?
So my son is helping me in a business make-over. I have heard of some women, and an occasional man, go for a make-over. Not entirely sure what that consists of. Not entirely sure I want to know. When I look in the mirror I can only wish for a make-over. I suspect what I see is what I get and I better get used to it. Business wise I am open to suggestions.
My son has thrown down the gauntlet. Insists I market myself and that to do that effectively will mean some changes. You mean the website I have had for eight years doesn’t cut it anymore? Apparently not. I need to change it up. And add things. I need to sit back and write about what I do, what I enjoy doing and what it is that should make people curious about what I do and provide them ample reasons to pay me to do what I like to do.
All of this means stepping outside of the box. Not sure what it is. My age? My background? Seems difficult to do. Like an old worn out comforter. I know what makes me feel good. So leave it be. That apparently doesn’t cut it. So I am working on it.
The other evening when we were slowing down for the night, sitting back and catching our breath, I lamented to my wife that this new world we were entering felt uncomfortable. She looked at me and said; “Let’s open a window and see if we can get a breeze”. I like it. Open a window and see if we can get a breeze.
How often do we limit ourselves to what we have? Afraid of what is beyond our comfort zone. Not sure of who we are. Not sure of who we want to be. Just leave me alone. Things will work out. Sometimes the challenge becomes to step outside the norm. Remember? Make life changes before life changes. I need to work on that. Not easy, but here goes. Make it a good one.
Then there are times when we have no work lined up. Seems to be feast or famine. Then we struggle to find work. Some of us struggle with self-esteem. We wonder if our gig is up. I keep being reminded of that saying; “inside each self-assured professional is a neurotic hoping to succeed before he is found out”. Does that mean I am busted? Found out? Perhaps there is nothing left for me. Perhaps being a Walmart greeter is all I can hope for.
Then I sit back and look at what I have done over the last years. I realize that I have a certain expertise I can share. Share with others so they too can enjoy life. I should not sell myself short. But I do. This week I have been pushed, pulled and dragged into an endeavor I am not sure about. Advertise myself? Promote? Really?
So my son is helping me in a business make-over. I have heard of some women, and an occasional man, go for a make-over. Not entirely sure what that consists of. Not entirely sure I want to know. When I look in the mirror I can only wish for a make-over. I suspect what I see is what I get and I better get used to it. Business wise I am open to suggestions.
My son has thrown down the gauntlet. Insists I market myself and that to do that effectively will mean some changes. You mean the website I have had for eight years doesn’t cut it anymore? Apparently not. I need to change it up. And add things. I need to sit back and write about what I do, what I enjoy doing and what it is that should make people curious about what I do and provide them ample reasons to pay me to do what I like to do.
All of this means stepping outside of the box. Not sure what it is. My age? My background? Seems difficult to do. Like an old worn out comforter. I know what makes me feel good. So leave it be. That apparently doesn’t cut it. So I am working on it.
The other evening when we were slowing down for the night, sitting back and catching our breath, I lamented to my wife that this new world we were entering felt uncomfortable. She looked at me and said; “Let’s open a window and see if we can get a breeze”. I like it. Open a window and see if we can get a breeze.
How often do we limit ourselves to what we have? Afraid of what is beyond our comfort zone. Not sure of who we are. Not sure of who we want to be. Just leave me alone. Things will work out. Sometimes the challenge becomes to step outside the norm. Remember? Make life changes before life changes. I need to work on that. Not easy, but here goes. Make it a good one.
Sunday, April 13, 2014
Why Do I Do This
For some strange reason I have signed up to a counselling course. For some time I have felt the urge to shake it up, step outside the routine, perhaps even learn and add to some of the tools I already have. Perhaps even start using the tools I already know about but seem to forget when I most need them.
There is a certain irony to my participation in these workshops. I have often said that my ability to facilitate or present on many of the topics I do is not because of an academic background. Rather it is because of what I have experienced and what I have learned from others on this journey called life. So when I attend workshops such as Mental Health and Addictions, Depression, and Anxiety I wonder whether I am there to help me help others or whether I am there to find out more about myself. And ultimately, I suspect, if I find out more about myself I should be in a better place to help others.
The participants in the workshop come from a diverse selection of professionals. They all have jobs in areas that these topics pertain to. They have various academic backgrounds. A wide range of experience in dealing with messed up people. Some stories were truly heart breaking. I have a lot of respect and admiration for people who choose to work with people experiencing mental health challenges. Without them far too many of us would be lost.
Quite often, in fact, far too often, I felt like screaming. I found myself in a room with professionals trying to learn how to deal with the likes of me. Someone who has had addiction issues, someone who just this week experienced anxiety like never before, someone who slips in and out of depression far too often. So often I felt like what they were discussing would not be helpful. Far too often it seemed like a clinical approach that felt just like the term suggests. Clinical. As much as people tried it seemed that they did not get it. But then again, why would they?
In my mediation work with people injured in motor vehicle accidents I hear countless stories of various, and often times, serious injuries. As much as I try to understand what a broken leg feels like, as much as I have read and heard about concussions, as much as ongoing treatments appear to be necessities, I will never truly understand the depths of misery those types of injuries can create. All I can do is deal with those issues as best I can based on my training.
There is an old American Indian proverb that goes like this. “Never criticize a man until you've walked a mile in his moccasins.” I have always thought of this in a broader sense. Not about criticism. Rather understanding. Can we really understand someone unless we have had similar experiences? Perhaps. Can I be taught to better help and empathize with them? Absolutely. Let me reiterate. There are many professionals out there doing a truly amazing job of dealing with people who are struggling. For that I am thankful.
In the last workshop I attended, the one on depression, I did come away with one significant truth. Far too often I cannot remember a quote. This one I do and will for some time to come. It simply says this. “Before you diagnose yourself with depression or low self-esteem, first make sure you are not, in fact, just surrounding yourself with assholes.” William Gibson. Make it a good one.
There is a certain irony to my participation in these workshops. I have often said that my ability to facilitate or present on many of the topics I do is not because of an academic background. Rather it is because of what I have experienced and what I have learned from others on this journey called life. So when I attend workshops such as Mental Health and Addictions, Depression, and Anxiety I wonder whether I am there to help me help others or whether I am there to find out more about myself. And ultimately, I suspect, if I find out more about myself I should be in a better place to help others.
The participants in the workshop come from a diverse selection of professionals. They all have jobs in areas that these topics pertain to. They have various academic backgrounds. A wide range of experience in dealing with messed up people. Some stories were truly heart breaking. I have a lot of respect and admiration for people who choose to work with people experiencing mental health challenges. Without them far too many of us would be lost.
Quite often, in fact, far too often, I felt like screaming. I found myself in a room with professionals trying to learn how to deal with the likes of me. Someone who has had addiction issues, someone who just this week experienced anxiety like never before, someone who slips in and out of depression far too often. So often I felt like what they were discussing would not be helpful. Far too often it seemed like a clinical approach that felt just like the term suggests. Clinical. As much as people tried it seemed that they did not get it. But then again, why would they?
In my mediation work with people injured in motor vehicle accidents I hear countless stories of various, and often times, serious injuries. As much as I try to understand what a broken leg feels like, as much as I have read and heard about concussions, as much as ongoing treatments appear to be necessities, I will never truly understand the depths of misery those types of injuries can create. All I can do is deal with those issues as best I can based on my training.
There is an old American Indian proverb that goes like this. “Never criticize a man until you've walked a mile in his moccasins.” I have always thought of this in a broader sense. Not about criticism. Rather understanding. Can we really understand someone unless we have had similar experiences? Perhaps. Can I be taught to better help and empathize with them? Absolutely. Let me reiterate. There are many professionals out there doing a truly amazing job of dealing with people who are struggling. For that I am thankful.
In the last workshop I attended, the one on depression, I did come away with one significant truth. Far too often I cannot remember a quote. This one I do and will for some time to come. It simply says this. “Before you diagnose yourself with depression or low self-esteem, first make sure you are not, in fact, just surrounding yourself with assholes.” William Gibson. Make it a good one.
Saturday, April 5, 2014
What Would I Say?
Not sure what to use as a title for what I am about to talk about. Not even sure what I will say. However I saw a post on Facebook today that has me thinking. A friend of mine, okay, in reality a relative, someone I spent hours with growing up but since have lost touch with, posted an interesting question.
It was actually a picture with a question. And as is often the case words will not do justice to the picture. Let me try. The picture is of a bench perched on a hill overlooking a beach. A beach with small waves coming in. Perhaps it’s the tide. Perhaps it is the relentless surge of ocean waters. Ever wonder what stories waves would have if they could talk? If they could tell us where they have been? What they have seen? Similar to the stories each one of us could tell if we took the time to think back. Stories of happy times. Stories of sad times. Stories, nonetheless.
The question with the picture asked this. “If you could sit on this bench and chat for one hour with anyone from the past or present who would it be. . . ? That got me thinking. Perhaps because I sense the pain that this friend is feeling from having lost someone near and dear to them. Perhaps it is because it reminds me of people who have had a significant impact on my life.
The first person I thought of when I saw the picture was my uncle. Remember a couple of weeks ago when I mentioned chatting with an uncle? The one that expressed a desire to be able to work? As fate may have it he passed away this week. As much as he had had health challenges the passing was rather unexpected. It got me thinking.
The same day that I saw the posted picture I mentioned I also saw another friend, and again a relative, and, yes, I have a number of them, wishing a happy birthday to a father that passed on a few years ago. She was fondly remembering the direction and guidance he had provided.
All of this got me thinking about my father. Not sure an hour would be enough to talk about all I would like to chat about with him. And somehow I suspect he might have a few questions, or comments, of his own. I suspect he would wonder how I got to where I am from where I was. He would be curious about my life. My kids’ life. Even my grandson. He would try to connect the dots.
His passing was much too early in life. There is so much more that we could have shared. There is so much more that he could have offered me as I meander through this mine field called life. There are times when I wish I could seek advice from someone that has walked the walk. Unfortunately that is not the case with my father. All I can do is try to learn from the tid bits of his life I can remember.
But from all of this I can also learn to cherish the moments in life I have. It is so easy to look around and wish for something else. Something better. I need to credit a friend of mine who, this week after I had commiserated about an issue, challenged me that I have so many things to be thankful for. And he is right. I do. The challenge is to focus on the positives. May not always include what I would want but positives nonetheless. And most of all cherish life and the people around us. That may change and may change unexpectedly. Make it a good one.
It was actually a picture with a question. And as is often the case words will not do justice to the picture. Let me try. The picture is of a bench perched on a hill overlooking a beach. A beach with small waves coming in. Perhaps it’s the tide. Perhaps it is the relentless surge of ocean waters. Ever wonder what stories waves would have if they could talk? If they could tell us where they have been? What they have seen? Similar to the stories each one of us could tell if we took the time to think back. Stories of happy times. Stories of sad times. Stories, nonetheless.
The question with the picture asked this. “If you could sit on this bench and chat for one hour with anyone from the past or present who would it be. . . ? That got me thinking. Perhaps because I sense the pain that this friend is feeling from having lost someone near and dear to them. Perhaps it is because it reminds me of people who have had a significant impact on my life.
The first person I thought of when I saw the picture was my uncle. Remember a couple of weeks ago when I mentioned chatting with an uncle? The one that expressed a desire to be able to work? As fate may have it he passed away this week. As much as he had had health challenges the passing was rather unexpected. It got me thinking.
The same day that I saw the posted picture I mentioned I also saw another friend, and again a relative, and, yes, I have a number of them, wishing a happy birthday to a father that passed on a few years ago. She was fondly remembering the direction and guidance he had provided.
All of this got me thinking about my father. Not sure an hour would be enough to talk about all I would like to chat about with him. And somehow I suspect he might have a few questions, or comments, of his own. I suspect he would wonder how I got to where I am from where I was. He would be curious about my life. My kids’ life. Even my grandson. He would try to connect the dots.
His passing was much too early in life. There is so much more that we could have shared. There is so much more that he could have offered me as I meander through this mine field called life. There are times when I wish I could seek advice from someone that has walked the walk. Unfortunately that is not the case with my father. All I can do is try to learn from the tid bits of his life I can remember.
But from all of this I can also learn to cherish the moments in life I have. It is so easy to look around and wish for something else. Something better. I need to credit a friend of mine who, this week after I had commiserated about an issue, challenged me that I have so many things to be thankful for. And he is right. I do. The challenge is to focus on the positives. May not always include what I would want but positives nonetheless. And most of all cherish life and the people around us. That may change and may change unexpectedly. Make it a good one.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)