TOUGH SHOT

I always enjoyed putting the shot.

I played football and track in high school and college. When I look back at the sports experience, I think I enjoyed the solitary sport of track and field even more then the babe-magnet sport of football.

I came to that conclusion while in an analytical mood I was reconstructing my life. I was bemoaning my lost opportunity to be a really good shot putter. Then what to my wondering eyes should appear but a flyer for the Senior Olympics -- opportunity regained.

I had five months to get ready for the state trials and another two months for the state finals. As they say, "It's never too late to have a happy childhood" and I was going to prove that statement true. I enhanced my workout schedule to include what I needed, physically and mentally, to heave that shot further than any old guy in New Mexico had ever done.

The big day came, I threw, I stunk.

It was then that I came to the realization that if I could have either skills or attitude--I'd take skills. I had a great positive attitude I just couldn't throw the darn thing from one side of a closet to the other. I came in first loser (a.k.a. second) -- out of two men in my age category. But because the top three finishers qualified for advancement, I was eligible for state!

As we drove home I said to Jean, "Well that frees up a couple days in July because there is no way I'll go to the state meet finals and embarrass myself again." Then Jean reminded me of what I've been saying to audiences for years -- there are three benefits to failure. Failure is:

1) A learning experience
2) A step toward success
3) A help to developing a sense of humor

It's tough when your own words come back to bite you, but bite me they did.

The three steps were true.

1) I learned the way I was practicing didn't work. I changed my practice routine.

2) This meet was only one step toward success. I signed up for other meets.

3) Being beaten by people who were throwing the shot as a time filler while waiting to compete in their "real" event, was humorous. (This benefit did take longer to accept.)

Off to state I went; I threw; I stunk.

There's always next year.

As tough as it is, you can't let the worry over failure stop you from doing what you know for you is the right thing to do.

The way I like to look at failure is that failure is a choice, and you can choose to never fail again because failure is only in the mind of the beholder.

Maybe that concept needs an explanation. Everything you do has an outcome. If it's the outcome you wanted or better (in my case a gold metal), you label that as a success. If it's an outcome you didn't want or worse (in my case dropping the shot on my foot), you label that as a failure. You project the outcome based on your expectations, you judge the outcome based on your expectations, and you label the outcome as either a success or a failure based on your expectations.

When you experience an outcome that was less than you anticipated, you can choose to label yourself a washout who bombed, fizzled, collapses, blundered, botched, flunked and floundered. Or you could choose to say you are a schooled, enlightened, informed, knowledgeable learner who knows you're always a success at creating the outcome you get.


You project the outcome, you judge the outcome, and you label the outcome.

When you are up against the possibility of failure and you feel yourself backing off give it the "best/worst" test by asking yourself these three questions:

1) What's the worst that could happen if I engage in this activity?
2) What's the best that could happen?
3) Is the best worth the worst?

When the thrill of victory out weights the agony of defeat, go for the victory.

Considering my shot put experiences, the best that could happen, I could win a gold medal. The worst that could happen, I don't win a gold medal. So since I didn't have a gold metal when I began, the worst that could happen is I wind up right where I was before I started. In this case is the best worth the worst? Sure.

Will I do it again next year? Yes. I learned some life-long lessons, took another step forward and had more than a few laughs. My strategy now is to stay healthy and eventually outlive everyone until I am the only one left in my age group.


Lesson: Failure is a state of mind, choose not to live in that state.

CARL

Carl was a retired pharmaceutical salesman. He wore his hair in a tight crew-cut like he had done during his days in the Corps. He was slight man with glasses and an ever-present bow tie. You get the picture.

No, you probably don't. To really get the picture of Carl, you didn't need to see him, you needed to experience him. I first got "Carled" the day after I met him.

I met Carl at a talk I was giving. The following day the newspaper had a write-up about the event, and my name was mentioned. The next day I received by mail the article, laminated on a piece of cardboard, with a note of congratulations from Carl. Such acknowledgment is not an everyday occurrence in my life.

From that day on, every time my name was mentioned anywhere in print the next day a note would come on a laminated piece of cardboard. If the publicity was not in print, Carl just sent a note.

Why did he do that?

Carl in his retirement took up public speaking. He called his company, People and Pride. His purpose was to help people feel good about themselves.

Carl was passionate about his purpose and approached his business differently than many people. For example, his business card was cut from construction paper. The card had a pasted on picture of Carl taken at one of those "go in the booth and get four pictures for a dollar" kind of places. He was also different in another significantly more substantial way. Carl really tried to relate to people.

Carl and I spoke often about why most people never responded when he called them or sent them something in the mail. Carl thought responding to another's gesture was common courtesy. I wonder where he could have come up with a strange idea like that?

Carl didn't do what he did for money; he did it because it fit his purpose. He spent hours scouring newspapers, finding stories, laminating them and mailing them off to give the recipients tangible evidence of why they should feel good about themselves.

Carl's endeavors were not about getting a reply. But a reply would have been nice.

I knew Carl the last three years of his life. Unless he had a death bed conversion, Carl moved on to the big stage in the sky being confused and a bit hurt over the lack of response to his reaching out. He wouldn't be human if he weren't a bit hurt, but Carl didn't have to be confused. The answer is obvious.

The people Carl thought enough of to spend time, energy, money and a piece of himself on were too busy to respond.

Carl didn't mean business, status or power to others. He was just a little guy with a bow tie and a homemade business card reaching out to touch other human beings.

I wonder where he could have come up with a strange idea like that?


Lesson: If you're too busy for people, you're much too busy.

A PLEASANT OR NON-PLEASANT PRESENT

Fear of the unknown doesn't make sense.

The unknown, since it is just that -- unknown, can be given a face only in your fertile imagination. Your imagination can create an unknown world of pleasant possibilities or stark terror -- your choice.

Now the present is another story.

If you're into fear, and you're determined to fear something, fear the present. At least you know what IS happening, and your imagination is as useless as World Series rings with Chicago Cubs engraved on them.

The challenge comes in your being truthful with yourself, not about what did or could happen, but about what is actually happening -- the present. Is your present pleasant or is it a not so pleasant present?

You may feel your present sucks rotten eggs -- but does it? Your present may seem unpleasant because you have chosen to view past and future events as negative and have willingly rolled your present, past and future into one big depressing mental ball.

The past and the future are great places to visit, but you don't want to live there. They're like Oz; they don't exist in any practical sense.

According to the late Buckminster Fuller, a futurist, philosopher, engineer, architect, mathematician and all-around cool guy, we as humans are 99 percent "non form." Ninety-nine percent of who we are is lived internally -- in our heads.

If that seems a bit much, consider:

All of your past is alive to you only in your thoughts. (You can think about last week, but you can't physically be there last week.)

All of your future is lived in your thoughts. (You can think about next week but can't physically be there next week.)

Only the immediate present is lived in your body.

All of your past and all of your future is lived mentally. Only a fleeting one percent of a present moment is lived in the body. While I'm a statistics skeptic, I'll subscribe to Bucky's 99 percent number.

The importance of the present is further demonstrated by exhaustive research (I researched it until I got exhausted) which proves you are most productive when your mind and body are in the same place at the same time. That only happens in the present moment. If you're creating an unpleasant present, you will have blown the only real time you can do anything about anything.

How are things going, right here, right now? Separate what did happen yesterday and what you think might happen tomorrow, and concentrate on this moment. Are you feeling OK right now? Is everything acceptable on the job right now? With the family? Health good? Right now?


Lesson: Now is all you have. Live in it.

BM TO TGIF

When you first learned the days of the week, do you remember having a favorite? Do you have a favorite now? Might it be Saturday or Sunday?

Consider the view many people hold about the typical work week. Starts off with "Blue Monday," ends on "Thank God, It's Friday," and in the middle is "Hump Day" (which gets you over the hump from "Blue Monday" to "Thank God It's Friday"). And then there are Tuesday and Thursday which may very well be the same day but spelled differently.

A survey, in a long list of surveys that didn't need to be conducted, concluded that only three percent of workers considered Monday as their favorite day (Maybe they had work weeks of Wednesday through Sunday?)

How many people do you know whose work lives revolve around weekends, vacations, retirement and death? Isn't it strange that so many people are worried about losing jobs they didn't want in the first place and don't much like now?

An employment study determined 59% of the workforce did not consciously choose their jobs. They either got started through chance circumstances, took the only jobs available, or were influenced by friends or relatives. Another study had 60% of the participants stating they found work "dull and boring." If these studies are anywhere close to accurate, why so much concern over job security?

Do you spend BM through TGIF looking forward to the weekend and then come back to work on BM and can't remember what you did on the two days you were so anxiously waiting for?

Are you working only for perceived financial and emotional security? Or do you demand fulfillment, happiness and pleasure from your occupation?

People's concern over losing jobs that give them meaning and provide fulfillment, happiness, and pleasure is understandable. Those folks have found a harmony between personal purpose and organizational goals. Losing such a job might hurt for awhile, but having been bitten by the fulfillment bug, these people will soon be back to doing what makes them happy.

Workers' concerns over losing financial and emotional security are also understandable, but misplaced. They are setting themselves up for the motherlode of negative stress by putting something as valuable as their security into the hands of organizations they don't control. If they were to lose their jobs, they would have to rely on another organization they do not control to provide their security fix -- an unenviable and tail-chasing position in which to be.

Any of us, at any time, for any number of reasons could find ourselves "occupationally challenged." But if we know what we really love to do, our condition is merely temporary.

Lesson: If you can't get excited about, passionate for, and committed to what you do for a living, you lose nothing of real importance when you don't do it anymore.

ANGEL FROM MONTGOMERY

I like music. I like the singer/songwriter John Prine, and I like his song, Angel from Montgomery. What's not to like about lyrics that say:


"If dreams were thunder, lighting was desire, this old house would have burned down a long time ago."


A house full of dreams and desires -- I like that too.


Picture a house jammed wall-to-wall with dreams and desires of those who live there. A Norman Rockwell painting? Now that you've pictured it, what does a house full of dreams and desires sound like? Harder to imagine, isn't it? It's harder because so often our dreams and desires go unspoken, not just to others but to ourselves.


Early in the life of your dreams, they may seem too fragile to expose to the outside world, so you hold them inside. When it's time to consider letting them out, you worry about what others will think. You over-analyze; you commit "dreamicide."


Without the energy derived from a passionate pursuit of dreams, what of significance gets accomplished in our lives? We are rewarded by society for performing skills effectively and efficiently. Precious few others in our lives seem to care what our dreams are, but that's no excuse for our not caring. As John Prine goes on to say:


"Just give me one thing that I can hang on to. To believe in this living is just a hard way to go."


The living out of other people's dreams, resulting in a lack of personal passion, can also be seen in another line from Angel from Montgomery:


"How the hell can a person go to work in the morning, come home in the evening, and have nothing to say?"


That's not too hard to understand. Why would a person want to talk about unfulfilled dreams and desires? Why would a person want to talk about spending their unrecoverable hours fulfilling someone else's dreams and desires?


If "dreams were thunder, lightning was desire" in your house, would your house be engulfed in a raging inferno, or would you just be inconvenienced by a slight warming trend?



Lesson: Dreams are forged by the fire of passion or doused by the waters of indifference.

THAT OLD GREEN MAGIC

When my son Tom was quite young, his Grandma gave him $2.00 to spend at the flea market. The first item he saw that intrigued him was a newly minted dollar bill sold at the booth of a coin dealer. Tom liked the looks of the crisp, plastic encased dollar bill. Although too young to do any serious collecting, he bought it with his $2.00.

As the day wore on and his fascination with the dollar bill wore off, he passed a booth selling toys. He saw a 60-cent squirt gun that looked better to him at that moment than the crisp, newly minted, plastic encased dollar bill. He used the $2.00, $1.00 bill to buy the 60-cent squirt gun.

As we were driving home, my wife Jean and I were mulling over the morning events. We realized we had not given birth to a Warren Buffet (or maybe even a Jimmy Buffet for that matter). We, his sensible parents, had walked around a flea market for over two hours. We had seen many interesting items we would have liked to have had but being practical and business-like, we were going to save our money until we got well into our 90s -- then we could get whatever we wanted.

Tom, having parlayed his $2 to 60-cent squirt gun plus change, did not demonstrate good business -- not good business in the financial sense. But in the big-picture sense, Tom traded in money that has no value in itself and all day long he had in his possession what to him did have value. His parents, on the other hand, drove home practical, business-like and empty-handed.

What good is your money, whatever the amount, if you don't have your squirt gun when you want it?


Lesson: A dollar saved is smart. A dollar spent is fun.

"SHOULD-ING" ALL OVER

I feel pretty, I feel pretty. I feel pretty, witty and.. Right in the middle of my shower song came Murphy the Lab. He pushed the shower door open, Lab-swaggered in and began lapping up the water that had just recently washed off my squeaky clean body.


If, when my children lived at home they would have done the same thing (open the shower door, not licked the floor), I would have been angry. The Lab did it; I thought it was cute. Same act. Why would I have been mad at the kids and not the dog?


Simply, kids should know better. Labs, on the other hand, aren't into shoulds,


Anytime you have the word should, rattling around in your cranium, you can bet the negative emotion of anger is waiting to leap on everyone in sight. The kids "should" have known better, therefore I'm angry. Murphy "shouldn't" have known better, therefore I'm not angry. Kid or Lab; my results are the same, I'm still standing wet, cold and waterlogged. Whether I choose to be angry or amused at the situation rests solely on my use of the word should.

Should is a very future oriented word. "If I throw this lit match into a gallon of gasoline, I should get an explosion." That "should" means all the elements are in place to generate a specific result. While an asinine use of a lit match, it is a legitimate use of the word, "should."


Using "should" in the past is when we get into trouble. "Bob should have remembered our anniversary." He didn't. "My boss shouldn't have criticized me in front of others." She did. Go with it!


Anything that has happened should have happened; otherwise it would not have happened. The event did happen and it's over and done. Everything is right with nature, rejoice.


Should paralyzes you in the present moment by requiring spending that present moment wishing events were different from what they are. Rather than fussing and fuming over the irretrievable past, use the present productively by putting a structure in place so a similar undesirable event does not happen again in the future.


Locks on the shower door?



Lesson: Your anger always contains the word should. Reduce your shoulds, reduce your anger.