SO MUCH TO DO AND SO LITTLE TIME

I found a list of "to do" items in a book I took from my brother Bill's office. This would not have been an event worth remembering, much less writing about, if it hadn't been for the fact that I got the book when we were cleaning out Bill's office after his death.

A "to do" list for a person who has died set me to thinking. Listed were items in Bill's hectic, get-on-and-off-an-airplane, take-a-taxi, check-into-a-hotel, make-a-difference-in-others-lives, check-out, get-on-an-airplane, and start-all-over-again world. These were activities he believed he needed to accomplish to make his life and the lives of those he touched meaningful. Bill was, when you sort through all of the descriptors, a teacher.

While he was my younger brother, I followed him into the world of improving organizational performance by concentrating on the fulfillment and growth of each individual. Granted, I may not be very objective for many reasons, but I believe Bill's work was important. Bill gave it everything he had and was darn good at it. He took his work and his life seriously (a family trait), so those "to do" items were to Bill a real commitment. But to see them in the context of life and death definitely put "9 a.m. meet with Dean" into perspective.

In the past I have shared with you my philosophy of life -- "We're born, we die, and in between we do something." As simple as this philosophy is to understand, it takes most of us our entire time here on earth to figure out what that "something" is.

When Bill was diagnosed with cancer of the esophagus (Warning: not taking consistent heartburn seriously may be harmful to continued life), we spent time together just talking. Talking about things other than business was something we hadn't done in years. (Warning: not taking consistent time out with someone you love may be harmful to who you are.) I had recently read an article in Reader's Digest on 50 things the author wanted to do before she died. I told Bill that I couldn't think of more than two or three things that I wanted to do. Bill felt the same way. This meant that we had either done everything (which we knew was not the case), or our "possibility genes" had atrophied.

Over time, when you take life too seriously, and your "to do" list gets too long, you close out all other possibilities. You're born, you work on your "to do" list, then you die. If you don't fancy that as your epitaph, what are you doing to change it? Because of some errant cells, Bill and Ardele lost a devoted son, Joan lost a loving husband, I lost my brother/friend and you lost -- Bill.

In his life he taught thousands of people how to work. In his death, he taught me how to live. Adios, my friend.


Lesson: If you don't live a life, you don't have a life.

THE PICTURE OF YOUR LIFE

God's a real kidder. He consistently gives us a 30-hour fill on our daily to-do list yet aligned our planet into a 24-hour day.

What to do? What to do? Do we do what we want to do (also know as fun)? Do we do what we have to do (also know as work)? What about a combination?

Most people, for the sake of their own sanity, pick a combination. But how much of each? What we want to do (fun), all too often doesn't bring in enough money to feed the dogs. What we have to do (work), isn't always, well ---- fun.

Life balance is in the mix.

Genuine, honest-to-goodness, wouldn't-trade-with-anybody, life balance is in the mix of the various aspects of our human existence (Spiritual, Family, Social, Financial, Emotional, Physical and Intellectual)

Seven aspects divided by 24 hours means we must then devote approximately three hours and 45 minutes daily to each aspect to have a truly well balanced life, right? Except for the truly anal, of course not. Life balance must be more like Webster's New World Dictionary definition of balance: pleasing harmony of various elements...; harmonious proportions as in a painting.

"Harmonious proportions as in a painting" -- I like that. We're all busy slapping colors on our life's canvas. A little bit of family blue, a touch of social mauve, just a smidgen of intellectual gray, and since we're all not painting the same picture, maybe for us just a little dab of financial green in the corner will make the picture we want. But how do we know how much green and should it even be green?

The key to a well-balanced life is knowing the proper proportions. And we can't know the proportions until we know what want the picture to be. Too many folks today are diligently, doggedly, daily painting without the foggiest idea what they want the end result to look like, and then blaming the picture for turning out as it does.

What do you want your life picture to look like?

Lesson: The choice of how your life is balanced will be made. If you don't choose the "proportions," then something else will.

ALL OF LIFE'S A CIRCLE

Our dogs and the dogs on the next property are separated by a fence and united by a desire to run the fence line barking at each other. Up and back, back and up, until their hairy legs get tired, their barkers wears thin and their concentration fades.

Fence running was the one doggy game Lucky enjoyed even as he was getting close to the end of his life. In this one game he thought he was a puppy again. As the other dogs, ten to twelve years younger than Lucky, took off like greased lightening, Lucky took off like frozen peanut butter.

The pack would run the entire length of the fence with Lucky a minimum of fifty feet behind, but then the god that looks out for old dogs and children would take over. As the pack approached the end of the fence and turned to run back, the sun would shine, the birds would sing and there was Old Luck at his glory fifty feet in the lead.


Lesson: Sometimes you get so far behind you're ahead.

IS THAT YOU?

You slowly and luxuriously awaken on this Monday, a picture perfect, spring morning. The sun gushes in through the half open blinds. The smell of fresh country air blends with the cheerful chirping of the morning birds. Everything is right with the world, or is it? Among all this serenity and splendor something doesn't feel right. Then it hits you smack between your well rested eyes. It's not right! You meant to set the alarm for 5:30 am and it's now 8:30! (What a dope I am!)

You rush into work all disheveled, no time to put your facial self together and a coworker says, "You look like the south end of a north bound sheep." (What a mess! I don't look good even when I'm "heveled".)

All day is one gigantic screw up after another culminating in a long talk with a short boss over your very recent performance. (What a knucklehead! Another day like this one and I'm out on the street)

On the way home you remember you need gas as the car chugs to a stop on the freeway during rush hour. (I'd better get some gas because I'm too stupid to walk.)

Tuesday Morning: You wake up ten minutes before the alarm with the answer to the marketing problem you've been facing all week. (Pretty sharp somebody I am)

While simultaneously putting together the best omelet you have ever made, you correctly answer the quiz on the radio, winning an all expense paid trip to Las Vegas. (Vegas, start packing up the money, here I come.)

The elephantine error the boss thought you made at work yesterday was, in fact, not an error but the solution to all of the department's budget woes. (I wonder when my raise will come through?)

On the elevator, a coworker you have had your eye on for months enters and presses the "close door' button to be alone with you and tells you what a hotty you are. (It doesn't get much better than this.)

Which day was the real you, Monday or Tuesday?

Lesson: You are never as good as your best days or as bad as your worst days.

HI, HO, HI, HO

Work has been described as something you have to do and play as something you want to do. But the distinction is not always that clear cut.

What is work and what is play? Are there times you're more tense and strung out on vacation than on the job?

Have you had times you would rather be in a performance review with the boss than playing a friendly game of horseshoes at the in-law family reunion? (The preceding was an extreme example.)

To muddy up the meaning of work and play even more, your want to (play) may well be someone else's have to (work). Speaking in public was my "want to," and considering it's one of the top fears of adults, I can only assume it would fit snugly in most people's "have to" category.

Activities are activities and just that. What beliefs you bring to those activities determine whether for you they're work or play. If the activity exhilarates you, if for you it's full of excitement rather than excrement, what do you care if it's called work or play?


Lesson: Work is not always work, play is not always play, and the lucky ones can't tell the difference.