Author: Ricardo

Something else that I learned by being a parent is that kids prefer to not be yelled at, to be fed, to be clothed, to be entertained, and to be loved. It’s not rocket science, yet it’s hard to do at times. You get so caught up in “you” that you forget about them.

The same exact thing holds true for people at work, particularly if you’re in a leadership role, formal or informal. And you run the same risk of allowing all your “stuff” to get in the way of being there for your co-workers. If you’re a leader, you’ll find that the formula for success is pretty much the same as the formula for success as a parent. Instead of all the not-yelling, the feeding, the clothing, the entertaining, and the loving, the people you work with want to have meaningful work, want to be respected, and want to pretty much be allowed to live a fulfilling life without threat of losing their livelihood. That’s pretty much the environment you should aim to provide. Again, not rocket science.

Personally, I think the not-yelling, the feeding, the clothing, the entertaining, and the loving also works wonders with your co-workers. None of them will admit to it, of course, but bringing donuts to work with some coffee and milk is a good way to get people to chill out, laugh together, and pretty much be entertained. It goes a long way towards making their work a little more palatable, and it just might help them find some fulfillment at work.

My kids and my co-workers: human beings looking to live their lives, getting a little help from me along the way. And donuts.

I love observing my children at school. I wasn’t supposed to go today, but this damn sinus thing I’ve been struggling with for the past few days kept me at home. Incidentally, I am still trying to figure out why I allowed my body to succumb to whatever it is that’s taken hold inside of me. It’s obvious that I’m avoiding something. I’ll have to ponder that some more.

The thing I love about watching them is the pure joy I feel when I see them going about their lives, completely independent of me. That means that my children are capable of life without me in it. I know, I know. That sounds morbid. But that’s not how I mean it. What I mean is that my wife and I are successfully raising little people who will grow into big people who will go off into the world to…I don’t know…make it a better place? My dad has said for years that he is proud of the fact that he and my mom have improved the human race with each successive child they have raised. I always thought that was a sweet thing to SAY, but I didn’t understand what he MEANT until I had my own kids. A lot of things your parents said make a heck of a lot more sense once you have your own. Funny how stuff like that works.

When I look at my kids and see them performing perfectly well in their world, I feel peace. A lot of it has to do with the school itself; Montessori schools are dedicated to precisely that kind of independence. Still, this process happens for everyone who has children. Although we are warned over and over again, we tend to forget that our children act differently at home than they do at school. So, when they get all needy and whiny, I probably worry more than I should. If given the opportunity, they can be their own little people at home, too. It’s just that the dynamic inherent in the parent-child relationship sort of undermines that a tad, you know? Even with that, the child lets you know when the time has come to take another step back and give freedom a little more room.

For example, my oldest complained about dinner the other day. It was too spicy or something like that. He asked for a different dinner. I told him, “Sure. Go fix something.” He looked at me as if I had just told him it was time for him to become a man and bring down a deer with his bare hands. “What?” he asked, still unbelieving. “This is your dinner,” my wife said. “If you want something else, you are more than welcome to go find something in the ‘fridge.” So, to shorten the story, he made himself a mean little sunflower butter and jelly sandwich. He was so proud of his creation, that he had one of those ear-to-ear idiotic grins. He sat down so confidently at the table. I smiled at him, he smiled at me. He ate his dinner without a word of complaint.

When I have the chance to watch them at work in their own world at school, where I am the outsider, it gives me peace for their future. They will undoubtedly suffer many hardships and relish in many victories, just as I have, and just as my father did before me. And just as my mother did, too. My brothers have experienced the same. My wife, and her sister. My brother’s wives. And so on.

The point is that they are growing each day. It is a joy and an honor to watch them do it.

Of course each individual life has meaning. We feel the the presence of meaning in our lives. Sometimes it’s just out of reach. Other times, you get a glimpse of it. Regardless, if you just stop for a moment and listen…feel…smell…taste…allow yourself to become aware of your very life force…you know that your life has meaning. You are more than the gooey matter that makes up your body. There is something more there. Each one of us serves a purpose, and our purpose goes beyond reproduction.

Our ability, as a species, to forget that gets us into so much trouble. It is easy to disconnect from the value of each individual life that being reconnected can be jarring. I like to think of myself who does a pretty good job of keeping that perspective. That said, I am human, of course, so I forget. “Slumdog Millionaire” is one of those rare movies that reminds you.

My wife asked me as we left the theater, “Did that deserve to win ‘Best Picture?'” I said that I thought it did. I was a bit hesitant. Today, I am much less hesitant. Any time a film makes you think with such compassion and love about people who are suffering on the other side of the planet, I think you’re walking away from a film that deserves some recognition. So…yes, I think it deserves “Best Picture,” not because it’s a huge moneymaker but because it’s a profound, compelling film.

If you are on the fence, go see it. I think it’s worth the price of admission.

Why are there billions and billions of people alive on this Earth? Why do so many life in such horrid conditions? What’s the point? I don’t get it. There has to be more to each individual existence than the biological imperative to reproduce.

Doesn’t there?

That’s what I’m thinking after watching “Slumdog Millionaire.”

I take my commitment to awakening my writing spirit very seriously. This is why I write each night. If I miss a night, I feel it. Some days, it’s a chore to write. Others, it’s not. Either way, I take my commitment to myself very seriously.

I am dead tired. It is late. I have an early morning tomorrow. I have a long day ahead. I have a date with my wife to look forward to, but that seems like it’s an awfully LONG time from now. Many days or months. Or maybe just hours. Regardless, I am dead tired.

So, that’s all I got.

Although…I did have a great conversation with someone today during which I was given the opportunity to help them see that someone else’s seemingly under-handed tactics had nothing to do with him and everything to do with the other person’s deep, personal pain. It helped my friend instantly; a cloud instantly passed from his face, a weight instantly left his shoulders. “Don’t take it personally,” I told him. “It’s more about the fear and loss of control that he feels than it is about something you’ve done.” That gave him just enough pause so that truth could reveal itself to him. It gave him a measure of peace.

It was an honor to facilitate that for him. It made my day. Those moments when I can connect with someone else, and they come out of it for the better…I live for those days. They are precisely why I continue to do what I do in the way that I do it.

Now, that’s all I got.

I believe it is a mistake to think that “someday” we will all have the chance to dedicate our time to the things we REALLY want to do. It’s as if there is a guarantee that, at 65 years of age, we will all be able to retire. We assume we will have the money we need to set off on these grand adventures. We assume that we will have the physical health and mental capacity to fulfill our life-long ambitions, like climb Mount Kilimanjaro to touch its ancient glaciers. We assume Mount Kilimanjaro will still be covered in those same glaciers. This attitude assumes all kinds of things.

Of course, we all realize these are just assumptions. We all understand that there are no guarantees. We all get that not even tomorrow is guaranteed to us. If you dedicate your life to something that sucks the life from the very cells in your body, you can’t assume that vitality will magically be renewed at retirement. Chances are, every single aspect of your dream will be compromised. Vitality is mainly nurtured throughout a lifetime, not acquired magically at a later date.

I know this sounds harsh and overly pessimistic on my part, but I assure you that I am neither harsh nor pessimistic. Some would argue that position. Some would argue my other opinions. Some would argue that a long-term outlook is important, that looking forward is prudent. Some would argue that patience is part of the equation or that positive thinking can get anyone through anything. I don’t doubt any of these or other arguments. However, I also believe that the future that is taught to us in our modern culture does not exist. As I am prone to saying, it is an artificial construct of the human mind to help register and categorize how we, as humans, perceive the passage of each moment. It helps us string together our memories.

Memories, though, are just mental images. They do not exist outside of our brains. Instead, what exists outside of brains is…everything else. Everything that is REAL is what exists outside of our bodies. As for our consciousness, there is only NOW as we experience it. Not a new idea, I know, but maybe this is a slightly different angle. If NOW is all that there is, then waiting in anticipation of some perfect future that may never come is not the way I want to live. At minimum, I don’t want to idealize my future, expecting that every detail will be a precise manifestation of my vision. That is a future that is guaranteed to disappoint. And wouldn’t it be sad if I waited my whole life for the future, and the future just didn’t meet my expectations? I don’t think it ever can.

Don’t get me wrong. I believe in the power of visualization. I believe in our ability to envision what we want, then make it happen. I believe we co-create our existence. What I don’t believe in is the perfect future that is on the horizon. The horizon is always moving. It has no end. You can never arrive at its location. You can’t touch it. If that is the view of the future that most people take, then I believe most people will fail to fully manifest their dreams.

Instead, I believe the future is always within reach. It exists only as the next moment, the next NOW. The moment you can conceive of it, then it is NOW. I am sure someone far more clever than me can debate me into a pulp. I am sure that someone far more clever than me can craft and articulate logical counterpoints to prove that I am not a semantic maestro. That’s OK. I’m not arguing or defending. I am simply stating, stating my belief about embracing today and not allowing the prospect of tomorrow to shift our focus.

Tomorrow is a distraction. I seek to find contentment today. Improve the next moment. And then the next. And then the next. I can only hope that you and I don’t dedicate our lives to something anticipating that years down the road everything will be better.

Write down the following questions and answer them for yourself:

What do I do?

Why do I do it?

Would I still do what you do if I were given $1,000,000 tomorrow?

The answers should tell you volumes about how you spend your days. The answers should tell you volumes about yourself.

Read this first, then join me afterward for a few of my thoughts:

—

At a metro station in Washington DC Joshua Bell played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. Since it was rush hour, it was calculated that thousands of people went through the station.

Three minutes went by. A middle aged man noticed the musician. He stopped for a few seconds and then hurried up to meet his schedule.

A minute later, the violinist received his first dollar tip from a woman who threw the money in and continued to walk.

In the 45 minutes the musician played, only 6 people stopped and stayed for a while. About 20 gave him money but continued to walk their normal pace. He collected $32. When he finished playing and silence took over, no one noticed it. No one applauded, nor was there any recognition.

Joshua Bell, one of the top musicians in the world, played one of the most intricate pieces ever written with a Stradivarius violin handcrafted in 1713 reportedly worth 3.5 million dollars. Two days before, he sold out at a theater in Boston with seats averaging $100.

This was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and priorities of people: In a commonplace environment at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty?

If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world playing the best music ever written with the best violin, how many other things are we missing?

—

OK. I’ve read about this before. It’s hard to believe…or is it? I did think of an alternate way of looking at this. I think that maybe a more interesting way to look at this is to consider the fact that perhaps not everyone who passed by was even capable of appreciating the quality of the music. How many people know their classical composers? How many people know what a “good” violinist sounds like vs. a “world-class” violinist? Of those who can appreciate these things, how many people actually have the ear to tell the difference in the quality of the instruments? My son is a pretty good pianist, but he has this amazing ear for the quality of the pianos he plays. I believe he is gifted in this regard. I’ve seen his face when he has had the opportunity to tickle the keys of an expensive, high-quality piano. It truly is priceless.

200 years ago, the only way to hear music was live. Period. No other way existed. If someone wanted to see a play, they had to go to a theater. If they wanted to read poetry, they had to buy a book or find someone from whom they could borrow a book. To appreciate art, you had to be in the physical presence of the original work. These are all things that we have “lost” in this electronic age. That said, we have access to more music, more art, more writing, and more information about other cultures than anyone living 200 years ago could imagine. We have replaced quality with quantity, and I do not necessarily think that is a good or bad thing. In the end, like my son, we all have unique gifts that, hopefully, have the opportunity to manifest themselves.

I’ve thought about this story often. Even if I were on vacation and happened across his playing, I do not know if I would have given him much thought. I would like to think that the beauty of his art would have moved me, but, in a crowded train station in Washington, D.C., I don’t know if I would have. I shared this with a friend of mine, and she offered up this last point: “I do believe most people are not fully present in each moment. They pass by the violinist, and many may not even notice the music.” That, unfortunately, is still very, very true.

When is a $3.5 million violin not a $3.5 million violin? When you don’t hear it.

There is a voice in my head.

It is my own voice. It guides me throughout my day. It tells me where I need to go, who I should visit, when I should keep my mouth shut. I often listen to this voice. Sometimes I don’t. When I don’t, I usually regret it. When I do, things usually work out well.

The voice tells me to tell the truth the first time, even when it may be hard. Truth today avoids the inevitable harder truth tomorrow after the repercussions of the lie are known. The voice also tells me to be gentle and compassionate with the truth. It can hurt sometimes, so it is not to be used unconsciously. When I listen to this advice, I usually come away better for the experience.

The voice in my head is primarily intuition.

When I don’t listen to intuition, I normally wind up regretting it. Well, I don’t truly regret anything. That would imply that the decision I made was not the decision I was supposed to make at that given moment in time. Every consequence, good or bad, is simply a lesson for me to learn and apply to all tomorrows thereafter.

Regardless, when I choose to avoid or delay truth, I usually pay for it. I am paying for it now. I’ve avoided a conversation I don’t want to have, and, in the process, created an even stickier situation for myself. I should have heeded my own advice. I should have gone where intuition was pointing me. I didn’t, so now I have a much harder task ahead of me.

You can apply this rule, the rule about intuition and truth, to just about anything in life. When your intuition speaks, listen to it. It won’t do you wrong. Of course, you might mistake your ego wanting you to do something that your intuition would prefer you didn’t, but you’ll have to learn to tell the difference. I can’t help you with everything, you know? =)

OK, I can point you in the right direction. Try this: be still, be silent, and listen. What you hear in the silence is intuition.

When I read fiction, I usually devour the story in as few sittings as possible. It’s like being timed at an all-you-can-eat buffet of literature for me. I keep going back until there’s no more food left in the bin. When I read non-fiction I usually read self-development material, like self-help, spirituality, or leadership development. These I usually read at a much more subdued pace. I take things in little morsels, chewing slowly and savoring each bite. I ruminate, to be honest. Yes, I know that’s gross, but that’s what it’s like. I chew, swallow, regurgitate, chew, swallow, regurgitate, chew, swallow…you get the picture.

It feels like it has taken me six months to read “A Whole New Mind” by Daniel Pink. I’m not actually DONE yet, but I’m getting there. Anyway, today’s morsel ended at the section about mazes and labyrinths. Daniel starts his train of thought with the book “Who Moved My Cheese?” a NY Times Bestseller for a REALLY long time. The gist of the story is this: two rodent-like creatures live in a maze. They wake up one day, and their cheese is not in it’s normal place. Gone. One of them freaks out and decides the best course of action is to wait for someone to take care of their problem. The other freaks out, too, but later decides the best course of action is to go off into the maze in search of food. They hem and haw, but they finally decide to take off in search of food. Then, Pinhead shows up and eviscerates them slowly. Not really. They take off, find new cheese, and live happily ever after. The moral of the story is subtle (he says sarcastically): when change happens, get over it, and move on.

So, the story and the gentleness of the message leave a little to be desired, but the purpose of the story is to demonstrate how action, not denial, create new opportunities when changes strikes. Change strikes a lot these days. Ironically, when Daniel Pink published the first edition of the book in 2005, he could foresee a world where there was so much abundance that people would increase leave the emptiness of material pursuits behind and focus on the search for meaning. I guess he thought we’d all have so much stuff that we’d learn the error of our ways and turn to matters of the spirit. That didn’t happen so much. Maybe a little, but not so much. Enter recession.

Recession has forced quite a few people to recognize that the house of cards, the pursuit of stuff, and the accumulation of meaningless “wealth” are empty pursuits. They are external to us, and as such, they can never truly satisfy what is inside of us, what is internal. I explained to my son recently that we are just tubes with legs and arms. If we swallow a coin, it goes into our mouths, moves through our digestive systems, and is expelled out the other end…of the tube. “The coin is never truly INSIDE of us,” I explained. “At best, we are all around it, but we never, ever, become one. This is why looking for things outside of us doesn’t make us happy.” He absorbed. He contemplated. He shrugged. “I kind of get it,” he replied.

That’s more than I could have asked of his little brain. He’s a smart kid, and I dig his sensitivity and desire to find truth.

And that is the point I am trying to make. Cheese will move. Real estate markets will crash. Economies will go down in flames. Such is the nature of human, material pursuits. Pursuits of the spirit, those that come from within…those are the ones that will really get us through life. I think my son is really beginning to understand that.

Continue searching for meaning, grasshopper.

“The unexamined life is not worth living.” –Aristotle

Again with this quote. The issue is that I like it. I repeat it often. I say it often. I write it often. Sometimes I write it just to see it because the words inspire me so much. They inspire me to want to continue to grow and learn and seek and inquire.

Sometimes, though, all that examining is such an ass-whipping.

Now I have to formulate an opinion on the use of chemicals in personal hygiene products and stuff like hairspray. I mean, I sort of had an opinion, but now…now I’m getting sucked in and am REALLY starting to form opinions.

When I was talking to a friend a few months ago about the carcinogenic nature of animal proteins (such as meat), he said, “Yeah, just like everything else that causes cancer.” I hear that a lot, so I just moved on in the conversation. The problem is that his comment has been bouncing around in my head. Why does it seem like everything causes cancer? Can it be that cancer is simply a reality of the natural world? That’s where my mind always goes.

But…how freakin’ stupid is that? Cancer as a part of the fabric of the Universe? I don’t think so. How about cancer as a part of the fabric of modern human life? That sounds more like it. Of course there’s a carcinogen every time you turn around because we live in an artificial world where CARCINOGENS ARE PUT INTO JUST ABOUT EVERYTHING AROUND US! How about THAT?!?!

As far as I can tell, that’s the truth. And I can’t just deny the truth; I can’t just ignore facts. So, I have to formulate opinions on stuff, constantly, like all these chemicals in my deodorant, toothpaste, and hairspray. There is ALWAYS something about which to be concerned.

Like I said, thinking about all this stuff can be a whipping.