Reorient yourself

Been a weird few months. Not sure how long, or what went off the tracks, but something shifted. Me, the Universe, or something else, I don’t what.

Lots of strange occurrences. Dreamt of my ex twice, even ran into her sister a couple of times. Then I ran into her. I’m not sure if uncovered any still lingering traumas, but it too left me feeling off-kilter.

Job changing, instances of synchronicity – the right words at the right time, I’ll either come across or be told. Zen in action?

Was recently introduced to the works of Alan Watts. This was a name at the edge of my periphery for some time, but I began reading his collected letters just a couple of weeks ago.

I love reading the correspondence and journals of prominent (or even eclectic) individuals. Thoreau, Kerouac, and Van Gogh have been among my favorites.

My journals are mostly rambling things. Nothing clear. Too many distractions. I think that’s been an issue in my blog posting as well. Too many distraction. Reorganizing my life now. We’ll see how it goes.

Fail better

Hmm… I lost a month. I was cruising along again, then stepped away from the computer. Rip Van Winkled it.

I’m back. I guess I could consider not writing to be a fail. No one is emailing me asking for more posts, so that’s fine though. It’s a personal journey for me. And really, it is all about the journey.

I started keeping a blog for two reasons. One, I like writing. I wanted to get what I had to say out there. It may not be viewed by very many people, and that’s also fine. But it’s me being accountable to myself.

And two, I had a lot to learn to be accountable for. The year of 2016, when I believe I really started blogging, was a struggle for me. I have pulled out of that turmoil, which may be a reason why I’ve been less structured when it comes to posting.

But I still journal most mornings, and these posts are additional. I like the tactile sensation of writing in a book, with pen, in cursive. Someone tried to read a couple lines and called it my ‘old-man writing.” That’s how I feel sometimes – like an old man.

Other times I forget that I’m in my thirties altogether, and behave much younger. Those times are interesting, and I realize that my body bounces back much slower than it used to.

Either way, I’m here posting now. “Ever tried, ever failed” as Beckett says. “No matter. Try again, fail again, fail better.”

 

Too many things to too many people

Time management. Focus. Exhaustion and overextension. These are elements that I consider often.

For several months at a time, I remained relatively secluded. It was a period of recovery for me. A necessary one, and well-received (by me). Now, as I make my way back into the world, the balance of finding time for myself and for others is again proving challenging.

This can be placed pretty much solely on me. I said yes to several commitments, and the wear is starting to show on me. I’m exhausted today. When there is no time to decompress, all you feel is the compression.

I’ve spent the past week trying to implement controls in my schedule, decluttering my workspaces, and preparing for some new particulars which will be coming into play over the next month or so. I’m excited to start these new adventures, and will be sure to write about them in subsequent posts.

I have a dream

Fifty years ago this week, in Memphis, TN, civil rights leader Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated at the age of 39. As the cultural climate has changed considerably over the past fifty years, one can’t help but notice that the work of social justice and equality is still being done.

This week, remember Dr. King. Think about those doing the good work. Possibly get involved, or volunteer yourself.

And if all of that seems too much, just say hello to a stranger. You may make their day.

Well, I don’t know what will happen now. We’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it really doesn’t matter with me now, because I’ve been to the mountaintop. And I don’t mind. Like anybody, I would like to live – a long life; longevity has its place. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will. And He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the Promised Land. So I’m happy, tonight. I’m not worried about anything. I’m not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.

-Dr. King

Job hunting

I’ve been actively seeking a job for about a month. The current telecommunications work I’m doing has me traveling to much, and enjoying it too little. I’m reshaping my life. Lifestyle design, as Tim Ferriss calls it.

It’s odd, how things line up. When I started reading 4-Hour Work Week, I was in my final weekend of Evita. The show about Argentinian Eva Peron, and here the author is talking about tango in Argentina.

Some might call it coincidence. But I call it serendipity. My life has been filled with too many “coincidences” for it not to be something more.

For instance, I’ve never found a job looking for one. Yet, I’ve been working since I was 15. And in numerous positions. Somehow, every time I need a job, I get offered one. When I’m not even looking.

The past month nothing has come available for me. And yet over the past week, so much has happened. I’ll be hosting my own radio program (much like how Eva had her own weekly show in Evita…) and it looks like I may be going back into fundraising.

Without even trying. Serendipity.

The Art of Stopping Time

I’m often contemplating the lack of time that I have. Mostly I believe it’s self-inflicted. For instance, I’ve signed on to two new shows over the coming six months, and I’m currently working up in Georgia.

For starters, we all have problems. Little foibles that make us who we are, the struggles that define us. Or, that we assume define us.

In some of my recent reading, I’ve found that we can exert more control over how we spend out time. Get off the social media (I barely use it myself now). Quit checking email (but what if I miss something?). We’re all guilty of time-wasters. The things that we tell ourselves are important, when really it’s just FOMO: fear of missing out.

I like this tale from Ferriss’s 4-Hour Work Week:

An American investment banker was at the pier of a small coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked.  Inside the small boat were several large yellow-fin tuna.  The American complimented the Mexican on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them.

The Mexican replied, “only a little while. The American then asked why didn’t he stay out longer and catch more fish? The Mexican said he had enough to support his family’s immediate needs. The American then asked, “but what do you do with the rest of your time?”

The Mexican fisherman said, “I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siestas with my wife, Maria, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine, and play guitar with my amigos.  I have a full and busy life.” The American scoffed, “I am a Harvard MBA and could help you. You should spend more time fishing and with the proceeds, buy a bigger boat. With the proceeds from the bigger boat, you could buy several boats, eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to a middleman you would sell directly to the processor, eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product, processing, and distribution. You would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City, then LA and eventually New York City, where you will run your expanding enterprise.”

The Mexican fisherman asked, “But, how long will this all take?”

To which the American replied, “15 – 20 years.”

“But what then?” Asked the Mexican.

The American laughed and said, “That’s the best part.  When the time is right you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich, you would make millions!”

“Millions – then what?”

The American said, “Then you would retire.  Move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siestas with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your guitar with your amigos.”

-found on BeMoreWithLess.com

Surviving an emotional breakdown

It’s been over two years since my engagement ended in unusual fashion. In hindsight, it seems unlikely that the relationship would have lasted, and surprisingly that it did last as long as it had. Roughly three years. Our twelve-year age difference (me being the elder) was likely to difficult to maintain.

Still, the resulting emotional disturbances I face were unexpected and traumatic. And it was only with the most tenuous strings that I was able to hold on to a semblance of life.

In the coming months I’ll write pretty openly about it, and some of the other tragedies that arose previously, including the death of my grandmother which resulted from an automobile collision, the onset of what was diagnosed as an autoimmune disease, and a period of incarceration (though I don’t necessarily view it as tragic).

The difficulty I’ve faced in writing on here has been wanting to be more open, yet still feeling the need to perpetuate the use of a facade. A social mask, pretending to be more well-adjusted, or acceptable, then perhaps I am. But I’m getting nowhere doing that.

That’s my commitment. That I’ll be open and honest on here, as I try to do in everyday life.

Silence

Once again, tragedy. This time in Sutherland Springs, Texas.

So much has been said about the shooting in which more than 20 people lost their lives, and dozens more were injured. At a church. And my thoughts are with everyone in that town, and all affected.

We forget how good the world is supposed to be, in times like these. We gear up and say that something needs to be rectified, but little ever happens.

In this silence, when we feel the most lost and abandoned, it is important not to shout. Rather, stay silent, and listen for that still, small voice.

Halloween

Took a bit of a shifting schedule this week, as my body readjusted from the overnights I’ve been working. Back in sunny Florida, though autumn has come to town.

Halloween routinely topped my list of favorite days in the year, from the time I was a young boy through now. It’s been some time since I dressed in costume (a party in 2011, maybe?), but every year I celebrate with haunted houses, scary films, and Universal’s Halloween Horror Nights.

This year was unfortunately marked by the passing of someone who’s favorite day as well was October 31st. My thoughts were with her this week, and her family.

A view from a hangover

It wasn’t an all-nighter fueled by Red Bull and Stoli. It wasn’t a binge. It was some rum and cokes at Chili’s for Sunday football, and a few drinks later with the boys.

It hit me hard yesterday, though, and I was all I could do to get through the day with open eyes. It’s tough getting older.

I look back on numerous hangovers over the years, and can recall some of the more questionable circumstances. I’m glad this time it was just my bed.