Does God do parking?

“Please, please, please!”

“Damn. They were pulling in.”

“C’mon God. Give me a spot please. Just this once. C’mon!!”

“Hey maybe...crap.”

“Oh?!... OH!... Heck yeah! Score! Bing, bing, bing!! Thank You God!! A spot, and close to the front!”

I parked my car in front of the large bookstore located at the mall and proceed to the door. Prayers answered and a strong sense of smug accomplishment; happy as a kid who got the G.I. Joe with the Kung Fu Grip he asked for on Christmas in 1974.

Then I thought: “Did God reaaaallly grant me a parking space?”

This created a new topic to ponder as I strolled around the bookstore. I go to bookstores not always with the intent on acquiring a tome to my liking, but I like the silence. I like the smell. I like being surrounded by the stories of others presented for me to slip into. I just like bookstores.

I wondered as I flipped through the random pages about my recent “answered prayer.” I had issue with myself. Did I really spend more time and energy praying strong and out loud for a parking space? Do I consider God and all that’s holy nothing more than a simple cosmic vending machine to where I drop in a hollow prayer to immediately get my material good? Did my parking space simply get pushed to the end of the column of other vended goodies and by my selection fall to the little glass door for my retrieval?

I looked then to the other similar times of where I went into my little “fanny pack of prayers” pulling them out like the coupon lady at the grocery.

“Please God, let the donuts be fresh!”

“Please God, let there be some ink in the printer!”

“Please God, let us have ketchup!”

In retrospect and through introspect I find that sometimes we see prayers like coins. The pennies we toss about not even worrying if we lose a few in the couch cushions. The small prayers devalued; often unaware they all stimulate the same spiritual economy. The larger coins, the bills even, we save for the big ticket items. Overcoming illness, praying for relief from external burden and pain, oppression of others, dissolution of disasters–these are the prayers we value. I find for me that I must respect the source within me that sets the prayer in motion, and to whom I consider the recipient. It is not up to me to devalue the worth of a penny and I should spend all change wisely.

Then I thought, perhaps these “little requests” are not even prayers. Often I find whether answered in my favor or not, the answer is part of a greater whole–one step in a journey. These little moments of truth allowing us to feel cheated or grateful are part of a bigger lesson. Maybe denial of said request is teaching me patience. Maybe fulfillment showing me I am being heard even when I feel insignificant. I am always grateful when I am given tangible evidence my prayers are being heard. I think my gratitude sends my messages clearer in the future; my lack thereof maybe slowing delivery.

Today I was watching the news as I do in the morning. The major network news show had a touching story. An octogenarian woman had made it a practice for years to order a pizza every day from the same Domino’s; a large pepperoni, cooked light, with two sodas. She lived alone and somewhat in recluse. I do not know if she liked pizza that much or the company. Maybe both.

Every day at 10:00 AM when the pizza restaurant opened, the phone would ring regularly with her request. One Monday it did not–nor did it the two days prior. Upon arriving at work that Monday the manager of the pizza store mentioned to the regular delivery driver of this anomaly. The driver immediately became concerned. She exclaimed she was going to leave work to go check in on her regular customer. At the protest of the manager, the driver mentioned she would “get clocked out”, but would not be hindered in her human obligation to check on the elderly woman.

She arrived at the house. No answer as she pounded on the doors and windows calling her name. She checked with the neighbors. No one had seen nor heard from her. They never did. The driver called 911 for an ambulance and sent it to her address in grave concern. She returned briefly to work to check in and returned again a while later to the scene where officers and EMT professionals were pulling her from her home on a gurney. Alive!

The lady had fallen and lay injured on her floor for days. The lady asked who had called in her favor which saved her life. Emergency professionals told her the Dominos people. Her odd diet and brief daily interactions saved her life. Her prayers obviously heard. The Dominos delivery person was seemingly driven by divine opportunity or perhaps a vehicle in answering the prayers of another.

I love these stories of the tangible symphony of the transfer, receipt, and delivery of divine happenstance. I wonder if my little requests of selfish nature are clouding the airways. I wonder if they are of any importance or if my little shallow prayers are still working out these spiritual muscles. Maybe I can simply try to become aware of my intention behind them, who they serve, and for the greater good of whom. Is there a sliding value scale of the prayers God handles? I also realize sometimes the answer is “no.” Sometimes it is “not now.” It is still good for me.

I don’t know exactly if God does parking. I like to think he may have someone else handle that for him. I don’t know. I do however think he likes pizza.

The bes' day ebber!

Best days; I have had a few. I have been blessed to have done many things, gone many places, and met some really cool people. Those ingredients definitely can contribute to the recipe of some spectacular days.


I remember the day got accepted to the American Team to travel the country. I remember my TV debut. I remember driving off the lot in my first sports car. I remember seeing my work in print for the first time. Those were some really great days! I no longer have nor do those things.

I remember my graduation day from High School. I remember my graduation from beauty school. I remember days when I completed a long task and got recognized, certified, or the “atta-boys” I thought were so important. They were...then.

I also remember the first day my father told me he loved me. I was 21. There were more following. I remember when my wife agreed to marry me. We took a limo around town celebrating the fact that “this guy” got “that girl”. I remember hearing “I’m pregnant”; the kind you want to hear. I remember when she arrived. I remember when my son arrived. We became a whole family. I remember hearing news like, “She’s okay, the test came back negative”, or “the financing went through, we can keep our house”. Indeed these were “the best of days.” Gifts mind you. But we have many more.

Yesterday, a Saturday, my day started as most of mine do, not sleeping in and taking care of the family needs. That’s okay. I am an early riser. My son had basketball practice and my daughter was venturing out with a friend feeding her own interests.

My son plays well...for a kid who is short and slight. He is not well rehearsed in the game, but makes up for it in heart (what some may call hyper). I often read to allow me to focus on drowning out three hundred drumming basketballs being awkwardly bounced. I glance up whenever my son has the ball or it is his turn. When they play a scrimmage, the book closes. My son glances to the bleachers flashes me a smile. I return it with a “thumbs up!” He smiles bigger and returns to the game. He shoots, misses, and gets a thumbs up! Again smiling, he returns his focus to the game–both of us proud of the other.

Some of the other parents berate and yell game strategies and their disappointments at these fledgling athletes. Their children look around for reassurance in a public setting to find little or none there unless a score is made. I don’t get it–they’re seven years old.

The game ended. My son made a basket. I shared how proud I was of how he played. He didn’t win though. It didn’t matter. He was jazzed and we had bonding time ahead! He was panting as a pro athlete would, proud of his participation and accomplishment, satisfied of his performance of the day. His day could end there and he would be happy.

“You hungry son?”

“Yep, but Dad I want the place that has the pancakes and Hi-C!”

“That’s what I was thinking pal!”

“This is the bes’ day ebber!!” he shouted. Loudly.

The game’s loss forgotten as his focus was on syrup and Hi-C, and oh yeah, they make their donuts fresh, from scratch! We always get one to go!

Tired as I was from a food coma and an early rise to endure a bit of percussive thunder, I wanted a little sofa-surfing “dad-time” but was reminded of something. The new Lego set my son got the night before awaiting my plastic toy architectural prowess.

We set the dining room table with the protective mat, place the mini bricks of aggravation into their respective piles and proceeded.

“Wow Dad! You are Awesome!!!” (Well the directions helped a bit, but I will take the ribbon!)

After an hour or so, a bowl full of Skittles and a Capri sun, our mission was accomplished. The sugar fueled venture concluded in a few battle scenes taking place in our dining room until energy was spent. My son crashed on his bean bag chair in his room, newly constructed toy in hand, smile on his face in front of SpongeBob. His room destroyed–evidence of a level 4 bes’ day ebber!

An evening at a friends’ house, videogames, and pizza conclude the day’s itinerary. I asked him in the car on the way home, “Did you have a good time son?” He replied again in sleepy satisfaction, “The bes’ day ebber!”

Today. Early rise again. Coffee as the family lie in slumber. Giada DeLaurentis showing her cooking prowess on the streets of Capri. Time for church. The twenty minute drive accompanied by some beautiful music perfect for a sunny crisp morning. Great sermon. I went alone. Family slept in and went later. More good Dad time.

I studied my studies, went out for one of the best Vanilla Chai Teas in the city and returned home to spend time with family. Some couch time with the wife. She told me how much she liked our home. She also liked my recent paint job I did in the living room. I smiled. It is nice to be appreciated. I shared my Chai with her. I have her liking tea now. The dog got a bath. We went shopping for the kids’ valentines. We talked in the car. I went for groceries for school lunches as my wife returned to the kids. They were happy and doing kid stuff. I took out the trash and noticed the sun setting. The temperature here was actually pleasant for the first time in a while. The sunset beckoned. I donned my iPod headphones, put on some inspiring music and took a lap.

A wave of strong gratitude came over me to remind me once again that I am blessed, I am loved, I am lucky, and I am most thankful to have been given the grace to realize this. The years I missed these moments because I was too busy being “cool”. Too busy “making it”. Too blind.

There were no certificates today. There were no crowds or cameras. No awards or honors.

It was the bes’ day ebber!

Drive Thru Greetings

This one has been marinating for a while. I typically will become inspired to write, collect my thoughts or views, and while the passion is stirring, I will put finger to keyboard. Not in this case. I decided to put my observational skills to work.

I have really made it a new life practice to become an observer. You may not know I am watching, but I am. It’s a really fun show out there. Something is always going on–something we can learn from or be entertained by. I think that type of vantage point presents itself in my writing. In observing I can steep myself into the flow of what is going on around me, but as if on a raft in a river, I am not in control of the flow, but I can dip my toe in the water as I watch what unfurls around me awaiting what may lie ahead around the next bend.

I first was struck by my newest quandary as I went through a local drive thru. Initially I thought the type of business (a fast food joint-I was getting a breakfast sandwich) would be significant evidence and support to my topic, but that is where I decided to let this one simmer, or marinate if you will.

The greeting was mechanical and rehearsed offering me a selection of something in which I had no interest. It was not human and thus forgivable to me. The human that finally spoke behind the metal screen confirmed my order, mentioned my fee, and then asked me “to move for...”. They always cut off the ending, but I knew the drill.

The robotic routine of the "money taker" already had him in mid-dialogue as he was taking the order of the car behind me while reaching for my precious five dollar bill. He then grunted my amount,took my money, and dropped my change in my hand. His furrowed brow held his eyes that barely met mine. They were not warm. They were tired and alone. A man, a cash register, a headset, trapped in a small box. He missed an opportunity to make contact beyond his confines. “Thanks, you have a great day”, I mentioned as I smiled and proceeded.

My food was waiting on me and “efficiently” pressed into my hand that was just emerging from my window. I guess this is commendable behavior when service should take no longer than 30 seconds. I was given a “Thanks” through unsmiling lips. I replied, “Tha...”, the sliding glass door slid shut. Next!

Hmmm. Okay I will put customer service aside. In businesses that often have annual turnover in their staffing well over one hundred percent, I guess I didn’t expect a hug upon arrival and departure, but it left me wondering is this the norm. Is this where a lot of human contact and interaction is being reduced to? Well, kinda.

I do indeed have people I encounter at certain establishments, as well as friends’ homes in which I feel like I am a celebrity. Like I am loved, or at least appreciated. I will even take tolerated at times. I think we all have those people that make us want to regularly return to where they are. Why? Because when they say “Good morning”, they mean it. When they say “thank you”, you know they feel gratitude. When they ask “how are you”, you know they really care and want to know. The words are genuine and organic.

In my observational pause prior to writing this, I noticed how many instances I encountered “Drive Thru Greetings” from many different people and places. Greetings that left me thinking I would prefer silence to a hollow and rehearsed sub-acknowledgement of my existence. “Did I really need to turn down the stereo for that!?”

I remember one time when dining with my family; we were enjoying time out at a fancy restaurant. Our waitress arrived apparently hurried and exasperated. She made miniscule eye contact and exhaled her “may I take your order?” We ordered. She never looked up other than to nod at the next person to prompt them into ordering. At the end my father asked with a smile, “Do you like your job here?” She replied, “Yeah...sure.” He said, “Well why don’t you let your face in on it?” A smile does help.

I wonder how often we miss an opportunity to make someone’s day by recognizing them. How often do we miss an opportunity to validate someone’s presence by a smile? How genuine are the greetings and closures we bestow upon those we encounter? Don’t we deserve more than grunts, nods, and a nanosecond of pulling our eyes away from a phone or text to engage someone?

I have found through my recent observation, I can change someone’s state with a smile. I create smiles by humbly allowing people to proceed in front of me in line. I can make kids’ giggle with a goofy face. I am on continual alert for opportunities to make someone’s day. All of these people will light up, even if a little bit, and from that, I in turn gain joy. The joy replenishes my ability to continue my efforts. Interestingly too, the more sad, melancholy, or alone I feel, I have found through this practice, the negative emotion leaves me that much sooner. Weird. (But I like it!)

If I ask you “How are you”, I really care. If I say “Good morning”, I want you to have one. If I say, “have a great day”, indeed I hope that is what happens to you. If I say “travel safe”, I truly want your journey unobstructed. And they say that “Thank you” can be one of the most precious prayers you offer to God thanking him for a gift divine. If it is good enough for God, it is good enough for me, so if you hear me say “thank you”..., well you know where I am going. The intention behind our brief greeting is like saying a brief prayer for that person. Hollow greeting, hollow prayers.

When you encounter people, try speaking your greetings from a place of genuineness, and listen to the responses with your heart. Sometimes it only takes 10 seconds to make someone’s day and to make them feel recognized.

And to all of you now, “Have a great day, travel safe, and most of all, Thank you!”

Old Habits Die Hard

The Monday morning started as many do. Although the beginning of the week, I find I place no more ill-will on Monday as I do any other day of the week. The day of the week, whether Monday or Friday, should not cause me to gripe any more than any other. It is still a collection of a series of hours containing stuff that needs done to be able to eventually enjoy the relaxation that an evening with the family brings. The routine is typically the same during every other day of the week, so why emphasize Monday as being more trying? If I consider how many more days until the weekend, I am no longer living in the moment, and that can be difficult any day of the week. Ok, I still struggle.

I awaken earlier than I need to. Usually around 5:45 to 6:00 AM so I get an hour to myself. I call it my “hour of power.” Catchy huh? Okay so I am not a marketing genius. I call it my “hour of power” not because I work out. If you saw me currently, my midsection looks like a candy bar left on the dashboard in hot summer sun. I gotta work on that too!

Anyway, I arise, get my coffee ready, heat up a wonderful heating bean bag thing for my back, and adjourn to my office, my “fortress of solitude.” I turn on some soothing music, and then I take about 45 minutes to meditate. Time to myself. Ahhhh!

I then have about 15 minutes left for the news, traffic, weather, or whatever before I rally the kids. I am calm, relaxed, have time for coffee before they arise. A great way to start the day! The way I have time for this is that I make it a priority. Simple enough.

The troops rallied, snuggle time, pet the dog, more coffee, life is good.

About 45 minutes go by and kids are dressed, car is started to warm up, lunches packed, dog has been out, backpacks being packed, same routine, same timing, check!

What I have found though is something odd. Forty five minutes ago, life was good, blissful, appreciative, and grateful. Now I am scurrying around making sure that things are going “according to my plan”, “my routine”. (Mind you – it is the same plan, the same family, the same routine, the same house, same dog, that I deal with every day for years – like overnight they all lost their minds or memory. Well...maybe.)

“Dad, are you driving us today?”

*Grumble* “Yes, I guess so.” (Reminder–I have already started to warm the car.)

“Honey, will you mail this for me when you drop off the kids. It needs to be mailed this morning.”

*Gripe* “Does it have to be done at 8:00 AM?”

(Two examples are enough.)

Now I have done a lot to work on my ego in the last few years. A lot...Alot! I have become very mindful of what I do, what I put in my body as well as my brain. I try to live in service of others. I work on patching my “leaks”. I mean emotionally and spiritually the proverbial “orange barrels” have been up for some time. Did I say I have done a lot of work? I did? Okay...good.

Well I still need some.

I find my ego is still lurking. Like an angry hostage tied to a chair with duct tape over its mouth, wiggling and shaking the chair to get attention, it still hasn’t given up hope for freedom. Peel the duct tape and it will spit, curse, and scream. Back goes the tape.

As I have said many times before, “it is the storms that show us where our leaks are.” These times at least keep me mindful of the importance of continual spiritual grounding, self-examination, gratitude, and awareness.

I drove the kids and noticed the other children walking in the cold exhaling small bursts of steam. I picked up two other kids in the neighborhood–proud that I could offer a warm transport for them to get their education. The happy childlike banter filled the car. The sun was bright, the energy good.

I mailed the letter for my wife. The drive short, but refreshing. I have some great CD’s in my truck. A few more “me” minutes. The drive was pleasant. I may not have done it if not asked to run the brief errand benefitting us all.

I find my ego still likes to bitch; to makes its presence known. I also find that thankfully the “conscious” me likes to play “hero” more than adversary. The rewards are much greater. Much greater!

My wife mentioned to me recently after requesting (and yes, me complaining) for me to get her some creamer for her coffee at the store one morning (and me complying), “You take such good care of me!” I try. I fail at times, but I try. I just need to try to contain the griping, the "emotional flatulence" we should gain the ability to stifle more regularly.

Nowadays I find my ego is like the neighbor dog that is contained behind a secure fence. When noticed, he will bark, and bark, and bark, trying to establish his dominance, yet with little threat but great nuisance. I just need to be mindful of keeping the gate latched!

Gotta get me some of that!

“Good things come to those who wait” was something I was always told. Usually as a kid. Usually when I was debating on tearing into the Christmas gifts prematurely. Perhaps it was when I was peeking through the blinds waiting on the mailman, or a friend to drop by.


Patience is a virtue my behind! I remember admiring a sign my father used to have hanging in his business early on, it was a photocopy obviously passed on to him and hung with pride like that of today’s inspirational plaques that executives hang on their office walls.

It depicted two cartoon vultures that were perched on a branch looking down upon an apparent thirsty man who was crawling through the desert approaching an obvious cruel dehydrated demise. One says to the other, “Patience my ass, I’m gonna kill something!”


I used to perceive patience as weakness; a belief of those who were unable to make things happen. The movers and the shakers, you know those with the cool motivational plaques hanging in their offices did not just simply sit by “patiently” waiting on their rewards. They went out and “killed something!”

I remember I used to profess that if someone were passing out one million dollar bills, and there were a line ahead of me, I would get out of line. Sad.

As I reflect, I see that I had desired to control linear time. Like God wasn’t doing a good enough job for me. I wanted time to speed up to accommodate my receiving the stuff I wanted. I wanted the promotion quicker. I wanted fame quicker. I wanted the muscles quicker. I wanted the weight loss quicker. I wanted the check to come in the mail quicker. I wanted to grow up quicker. I wanted it all now. That was the incorrect practice of “the power of now.”

Now that makes me wonder. If I want time to speed up, then am I okay when the time I wish would speed up would also rapidly zip by when I am actually enjoying myself? Do I want my kids to grow up, move on, and move out sooner? Do I want to get old and succumb to my mortality sooner? Do I want the party over sooner?

I find it a pretty bold request to command to be in control of time and to have it work within the parameters of my desires. Am I willing to share this power? What if I am the guy in line in front of the time keeper at a McDonald’s drive through, and he wishes me to not be there? Do I vanish? Do I get my food quicker? These are the heavy mysteries people. Will I be wished out of the way?

I find rather than trying to control time and trying to control how others manage theirs, it is easier to make a stronger attempt at finding my own source of patience. I find once we find our source of patience, it is a humble beginning of surrender. Surrender in the fact that we find we are not alone, we do not control the universe, yet if we slow down, we can enjoy what unfolds around us.

When I am impatient, I find I am steeped in self-importance that propels me at light speed into the future. I focus on what I should be doing, where I should be going, what should be happening to me, and I miss where I am. Often in the stillness and slowness I am most often blessed with gratitude and the revealing why the patience is a gift. A gift because I can realize I can have both benefits.

In being patient I get the blessings of presence. Whether it is a few quiet moments in the sun, even if it is waiting in line at a drive through or in daily traffic, or if it is a moment of solitude as a wait behind the coupon lady at the grocery, these moments are mine. I can’t do anything about it. Oh yes, I can bitch, but I find I am still standing there in the same spot, just bitching. By choice. Still waiting.

I also eventually get what I am impatiently waiting for. I find that being impatient does not make the metaphorical universal UPS truck deliver my wishes any faster. My impatience only dictates how I feel as I close the gap between now and the delivery of my awaited circumstances. What I want to happen quicker does indeed happen, as it should and will on life’s terms, I just find through impatience I simply make the journey there more frustrating by choice.

Yes taking charge of certain elements is helpful. Of course preparation can speed progress. Absolutely we can do things to bring our desires to us quicker. Yet I find that impatience most often infiltrates us on the trivial level. I also find there are more trivial occurrences happening between the times our lives are punctuated by the big stuff.

Patience. I still need work, but I realize that I am the one who needs the work and that is okay. I just need it most when there is a line of cars between me and my Sausage McMuffin.

Now this is a tale of a fateful trip...

I always said Gilligan’s Island would be a great place to be if I could get used to the taste of coconut. Isolated, lush and green, a lagoon; what more could I ask for? Of course I would have to choose a few friends, and I do not think I would choose a couple with a trunk full of money. In today’s world they would simply have a wallet full of credit cards, and I do not know too many “Lovey’s.”


The reason for my aspirations usually comes after a time of tragedy. Mass shootings, politically charged rhetoric that inspires exclusion or separatist thought, ecological disaster, you know the icky, big stuff. I would profess, and still do, that it would be nice to be able to escape it all, to simply go to a beautiful place where these thorns could not grow in my garden.

I would accept the restricted diet of fish and limited produce for the peace of a hammock between to palms, a hut, and many hours of unmolested reflection at the water’s edge. Maybe the diet would solve my expanding waistline as well, and the hunting/gathering would become sufficient exercise.

But then I think: “There would not be much social stimulation (I like people), and I do not need many material things, but how many toys can you make out of bamboo and palm fronds? I mean I would need an outlet to plug in my iPod for charging.” Also, there could still be hurricanes, another oil leak could reach my shores, and I cannot escape the bias of my own thoughts. No man is an island, plus I would not want to eventually have a volley ball as my best friend.

As we often seek a remedy or escape from that which harms us, frightens us, or tears us asunder, I find that I am often looking for the “caped crusader” to come to the rescue. “Who is going to make this right?” “Where is the cosmic Maytag Repair Man?” “Who is going to stop the insanity?”

“Anyone...anyone??!” (We then hear the crickets...)

I then find that I hold a majority of the potential for change. I myself can drop the proverbial “pebble in the pond”, and stare as the ripples retract concentrically outward reaching far shores.

My world is simply a reflection of myself and how I see it.

When I say, “The world sucks”...it often proves me correct.

When I say, “People today are crazy”...they often act in such a manner.

When I say, “Life is rough”...I meet quite a bit of adversity.

However, when I tell myself, “The world has beauty and promise, contains an abundance of compassionate, intelligent, and beautiful people who are willing to take on the same challenges as I, so none of us are alone”, I find my burdens lighten.

Same world, same people, same life–different perspective. My choice.

I have three simple tools in my tool kit. They like a hammer, screwdriver, and duct tape can fix most any a household dilemma.

First–awareness of the things I tell myself. When I am carrying out my own dialogue, I must become aware of things I tell myself. Am I critical or hopeful? Do I want to be my own coach or adversary? Am I using destructive dialogue coming out of a bullhorn reminding myself of my past failures, or am I using a motivating tone reminding me to get up, brush off the dirt, and attempt the important things again until I get it? This is a choice. Where I stand in the world and how I reflect upon my position in it is a choice.

Second–the questions I ask myself. “Why are you such a loser?” is not the best way to try to motivate yourself to overcome your shortcomings. When I ask myself questions like this, amazingly I have many, many answers. Most of them are rooted in past behavior. Behavior I no longer can do anything about. Why? Because it is PAST behavior! When I ask, “How can I make today better than yesterday?” Or, “How can I be a better person, husband, wife, employee, citizen, etc.”, interestingly enough, I get answers here too. These answers usually come in the context of things I can do in the present and will affect my future. The opportunities presented to me in this life appear often in direct proportion to the questions I ask myself.

Finally–the window I peer out into the world is one I place before myself. What we focus on is what we see. If I constantly focus on death, pain, belligerence, debauchery, suffering, madness, loss, and hatred, guess what I see? If focus on people making a difference, compassion, growth, ingenuity, progress, and miracles, yes–miracles; I will see them too. Same planet–different worlds.

The greatest thing about these global changes that affect the masses is that we already have them, it can change the world for ourselves and others, and the shift occurs the moment we dedicate ourselves to the changes we wish to see. They can work as personally or universally as the intentions we use to activate them. We cannot change the world until we start upon the changes within ourselves.

Yes, it can be challenging at times. If you want a good workout on these principles, turn on the news. There are many people who are willing to spiritually spar and test our resolve. It is empowering to know that my armor thickens with my recall of these ideals. However if this is a bit hard, the S.S. Minnow always is an option.

Keep On Keepin On

I can tell it is the New Year. Aside from the ritual of taking down holiday decorations and a small anxious desire for school to go back into session, there’s one major tell-tale sign: the proliferation of personal improvement ads.

Like budding trees in the springtime, the beginning of the year provides a plethora of reminders that it is time to take a personal inventory and whittle away at that we own that is less than desirable. If I take this pill, I can be in a better mood, detoxify my system, or shed those unwanted pounds.

If I call this guy, I can improve my finances, own real estate, or learn the secrets of getting a perfect physique in 90 days.

I can quit smoking, drinking, drugging, arguing with my kids, teach my baby to read, and go back to school.

I am emphatically encouraged to emerge from the chrysalis of last year’s drudgery into the beautiful butterfly I am destined to become...this month.

Eagerly I listen. I critically examine my attributes and lack thereof assessing what I need to keep, and what I need to improve upon. It is January 2nd. I am already a day late. Am I a loser already?

In this onslaught of suggestions of how my life can improve, lies the paradox of an equal amount of articles of why resolutions fail. Too much, too lofty, too quick. We are captivated and enchanted by a couple months of lights and mistletoe, fun and frivolity, and then like at 2:00 am in a pub, the lights come on, we are told to stop, and go home.

Of course it will be hard even with the noblest of intentions to make major life changes this time of year. We go from a season of indulgence, self satisfaction, giving, abundance, and festivity to immediately tear down decorations, a cold season of grey skies (here in the Midwest), holiday credit card bills, and then are expected to proclaim, then live up to, stopping things we have done habitually mainly because they make us feel good.

No sir, I don’t like it. It is hard enough for me to write the correct date on my checks in the New Year let alone stop eating what I enjoy, get more rest and exercise, upgrade to “better behavior 2.0”, reboot, and act as if it is easy, or at least enjoyable. It is like driving along the freeway at sixty miles and hour and noticing your exit then slamming your car into reverse trying to make it safely to your next destination. Not good for cars or humans.

I do not believe the New Year is like an Etch-a-Sketch. It is not a simple shake of the calendar and then we start over. If it were that simple, why wait for 364 days to pass before using that wonderful do-over? Why let a full year pass before deciding we could use a new blank sheet? Do we also need to shake it to make then entire past disappear? Sometimes we simply need a little White Out to mask a few mistakes to make the text read better.

Perhaps before considering resolutions we should examine what went well in the previous year? Let’s do more of THAT stuff! Perhaps make habits out of serendipity. If we spent more time focusing on some of what we do right and not so much that our jeans don’t fit like they used to, we would embellish the skills that would allow us the skill sets to achieve many more of the things we desire.

I like to look at life as if it had a “batting average”. As in baseball, it takes a number of times at bat to assess where our stats lie. Perfection is not so much praised as consistency of getting the hits. Of course we will swing and miss. It makes the home runs that much more fun to celebrate. It is the possibility of a strike out that hones our competitive spirit.

Personally I reflect this time of year “categorically.” I try to look at global attributes that I would like to examine in more forensic depth in the upcoming year. This examination requires time, research and rhythm. There is no way I can incorporate lasting changes into my life without practice and patience. It took a lot of the negative habits I may wish to eradicate a long time to erode their way into a habitual pattern. I must therefore offer the same amount of dedication and tenacity in replacing them. I am still busy making excuses in January!

I have in the past used categories such as “expanding my knowledge”, “improving my spiritual awareness”, “stabilizing my health”, “developing greater patience”, and I will often revisit those yearly but with just different amount of emphasis.

This year I am dedicating a larger amount of the pie to “balance.” I have a tendency to obsess or attach to one thing in my life often times at the detriment of another. As a farmer will plant many seeds, all needing different amounts of attention, water, nourishment, and care, he still plants with the intent to harvest all to better feed him and others. His attention and routines are stable and reliable and fluctuate to the ongoing needs of his crops.

I have many seeds planted now. I cannot let one suffer as I tend to another. I must have balance to have bounty. As the farmer weathers the seasons, the droughts, the rains, and adjusts his routines to the needs of his seedlings, so must I. It is another year, but it is also another day. In my goal to improve my life’s balance, I will simply keep on keepin’ on. By spring I should have some good plants growing.