When I’m dissatisfied with someone, I can often trace the feeling to a dissatisfaction with myself.
So, if I could truly love myself, would I more easily love those around me?
I’m critical. I may get that from my dad. He always wants to make things better — a good trait. But here’s what would happen when I showed him a school project or essay. Continue reading Perfect Imperfections
A man feels a burning desire to paint. For 25 years, he studies art, makes art, works menial jobs to pay the bills, and calls himself an artist,a painter. He never sells a painting. He stays focused on his internal flame, even in the complete absence of any external fanning of it.
Does this dedication, this focus, this single-mindedness make the man a winner or a loser?
Your best friend fancies herself a dancer. She has unwavering dedication to her practice and to her dream of becoming a professional dancer. However it seems clear to you and to others that she has neither the physique nor the talent to achieve her goal.
Would you support her best by encouraging her in this dream or by gently helping her to see other options for herself?
Continue reading Too Much of a Good Thing
What if peace is up to you?
What if any time you are anti-something — even something that is abhorrent to you — you add to the collective battle energy of humanity?
What if every time you unfriend someone for holding beliefs you cannot tolerate — even beliefs of intolerance — that act adds to the battle energy we collectively generate?
What if every time you declare somebody an idiot for espousing their views, humanity’s battle energy level rises just a bit?
What if, like in Horton Hears a Who, even your teensy-weensy little part matters?
Continue reading Peace on Earth: What Might it Cost You?
Tuesday’s Horror was Preceded by Monday Night Football
I went to bed feeling sick the night of September 10, 2001. My sports hero was Ed McCaffrey, #87 and Denver Broncos wide-receiver, general nice guy and spectacular athlete. During that night’s Monday Night Football game against the NY Giants (boo!) Eddie Mac had suffered a broken leg. “In sustaining the injury, he made a spectacular catch and did not fumble the ball.”
I had trouble sleeping that night, reviewing in my mind over and over again the play that made my own leg hurt, made me ache for Mr McCaffrey, as well as his wife and children who surely saw it happen. I must have finally gotten to sleep because I then slept through my alarm and was late to work. Still feeling bleargh about poor Eddie Mac, I loaded 5 month-old Tessa into the car to drop her off at my mom’s on my way downtown.
The comedy radio show I listened to was uncharacteristically somber. The DJs were known for doing some wild stunts, but pretending that two planes had hit the twin towers was unthinkable, even for them. Continue reading 9/11, Ed McCaffrey, Stephen Covey & Me