I’m a little surprised to find a common theme of “Love it Before You Leave It.” I’m noticing that where i was before, the place I was so anxious to move away from, wasn’t that bad at all. Granted, I have not regrets for pursuing a higher place. And though my perspective isn’t from 30,000 feet, it might be that from just 50 feet higher I am able to see things I couldn’t see before.

Be Here Now – examines how choosing to love your life for no other reason than that it’s YOUR life may have the side effect of offering you the peace you seek elsewhere right where you are now. Why is it a frightening prospect to seek presence here and now?

Boss as a Client – examines the relationship of a subordinate to a boss. If we can examine the power dynamic of the manager/employee relationship, could it free us up to accomplish more? Once again, hindsight might show us that the supervisor who has the power to raise our cortisol levels is just another human who a slight shift in perspective and focus might allow us to find harmony. What if we make it our goal to love our interactions here?

Get a Life – examines the impulse to work and the balance between bridging extrinsic and intrinsic values. I learned after going out to work on my own that I might have, could have, should have done things very differently. What came as a surprise was that we should embrace our life because it is ours. I missed a few things while I was focusing elsewhere.

I might have noticed the peace and fulfillment just beneath the surface in those present days and not needed to separate myself.

In Caddyshack Bill Murray’s greenskeeper tells the young caddie about the time he caddied for the Dalai Lama. When he asked the Lama for a tip, the Lama replied: “There won’t be any money. But on your deathbed you will receive total consciousness.” The greenskeeper added, “So, I’ve got that going for me. Which is nice.”

Which is nice! His assumption is that total consciousness comes not with total regret, but total acceptance.

Another comedian, Robin WIlliams, plays the teacher, Mr. Keating, in Dead Poets’ Society. Keating makes his students stand on their desks if you have to to see things differently. It might only be two feet, but once you’ve gotten in the habit of making this shift in perspective, you can always go higher.

The post The View from Fifty Feet appeared first on A Day On.

I’m a sucker for that kind of sentiment. I loved the Nike campaign: Just Do It. But I’m also a little skeptical, and I wondered if the workers legitimately adopted the mantra after some paradigm-changing motivational session or if they just placed the cards on their desks in case the boss walked by.

It’s strange that Life, with all its realness, its colors and smells and textures can still bore us into a kind of sleepwalking existence, while a cheap, predictable, 25 cent video game can pull us in and engage us. We need to be reminded to Be Here Now.

Being is ubiquitous, like water to a fish we don’t notice that we are always feeling it. That it is always happening around us. But, like the character in the video game, strange objects are being thrown at us, intimidating obstacles appear in our path. But we rarely notice the wonder of these interactions. Barrels are deflected off our body armor. Bills are paid or avoided. Allies and enemies enter and leave our screens. And yet, life makes us look for the nearest distraction? Something to offer us easy engagement.

Somehow it seems we might be more engaged with playing a game of our life than actually living it. If you could offer someone a game that perfectly represented their lives it’s hard to imagine that they wouldn’t become instantly obsessed with it.

For most of us, the game of our life isn’t high-adrenalin like Grand Theft Auto where bullets are flying, cars are crashing and pedestrians are dying beneath our tires. So, how can Being be so intensely exhausting and yet so disinteresting?

If we were to view the world through our character’s eyes, how long would we be amazed at the way the world appears to his senses? We would pay attention to the work he was doing until we would begin daydreaming about what we are going to have him cook for dinner. We would be fully engrossed in filing his forms at work until we found ourselves planning how we are going to firm up his floppy abs?

Wouldn’t it be fascinating to watch over someone’s shoulder and to partake in whatever mentality they are experiencing at that moment? To be a voyeur in an ordinary life might be as compelling as in the life of a rock star, an influencer or a daredevil, because all lives are ordinary and all lives are great. But some lives and the bodies that live them would be more focused and driven and engaged.

Might not some viewer/game combinations that we step inside be more engaging than others? Is it the game that is engaging? Is the player character and her characteristics, skills, abilities and disabilities and what she brings to the game what makes it engaging for us? Is it some combination of the player and game along with some kind of mysterious magic?

When I walk my dog past the shops and office buildings of my neighborhood I sometimes see the same guy with his back to the window, studying spreadsheets long after all the other offices are vacated for the evening. My first impulse was to pity him for thinking that he’s chained to his desk. For not having a life to get to. But now, I think that whatever he’s doing on those spreadsheets might be a heroic act to someone who is glad he works late. I don’t know what is on his mind. He might be staying late to avoid going home. He might be staying late because he knows that his work matters to someone desperately waiting for him to make his final calculations and press “Submit.”

The game of receiving each moment and discovering what it wants from us and what it can teach us seems worthwhile. And maybe it’s impossible to live like this all the time. But then again it seems like it’s impossible to be anything all the time. It seems like in each of us there is always a negotiation with the moment. Are we going to double down on the moment. Are we going to pass? The moments just keep coming, hurling objects at us, presenting us with obstacles… until the final obstacle comes for us.

Sam Harris reminds us in his mindfulness app that, “There will be a last time for everything. There will be a last time we hold our child. There will be a last time we kiss our loved one. There will be a last time we hang up the phone after a conversation.”

He’s reminding us to occasionally remember this, to occasionally remember to be present.

And again, later, to remember to be present.

And to make it a habit.

Be Here Now…

Does Being Here Now mean that you can sit back from your computer screen and admire the relaxed way your dog is stretched out on he floor beside you. He feels your attention and sits up with urgency just in case you’re ready for a walk?

“Be Here Now,” he might say if he could.

Life is coming at us from all sides it seems. The barrels coming our way are relentless and cleverly disguised as not barrels. How you do anything is how you do everything.

In this game there is no need to scale the floors to get to the highest level whilst a gorilla hurls barrels in your direction. You have to plan what’s for dinner. You have to worry about whether the check cleared. You have to be concerned whether a government is going to redistribute your wealth appropriately. Maybe that’s the lesson, to find the “play” in the barrels of cooking of dinner, of finances, of taxes of Being with someone you love.

Applying play to life.

Identifying barrels while not identifying with barrels.

As my dog and I come around a corner a good hour after quitting time we pass by the window where our diligent office worker peers into his spreadsheet. Maybe he has photos of his family taped to his cubicle for those moments when he needs to remind himself of his purpose. Maybe he has a photo of a beach with a boat anchored in the sunset. Maybe he needs nothing but the knowledge that a job well done is enough to have made his day well-lived. Maybe discarded somewhere in a bottom desk drawer is a worn and wrinkled placard reading: Be Here Now.

The post Be Here Now appeared first on A Day On.

A tanned, manicured hand with a delicate gold bracelet reached out of a Ferrari window at the stoplight across from the front gate of the college and held out a five dollar bill. A five dollar bill!

He had to fight for the right to claim this piece of grass as his territory. This lousy, dirty, dusty median on a busy city street with cigarette butts and vodka bottles and the occasional piece of clothing or piece of a weave. He fought for this.

He stepped into the lane with a deliberate motion so as not to startle or frighten, without too much eye contact. Reached for the five dollar bill and held it until she released it. She smiled up at him. He blessed her. The engine revved and they were off. The girl and her driver who would never have to fight for anything as repugnant as this ugly piece of real estate.

Hey. Hey!

A student was motioning to him from across the street. He looked into the oncoming traffic, timing his departure from his curb. He probably wanted to give him a couple of dollars. He motioned that he was on his way and the student waited, looking down at his phone.

He arrived across six lanes of traffic barely affected by an insult hurled from a dusty pickup truck full of scaffolding and construction materials. “Get a life.”

Get a life. He had a life. He was all too aware of the life he had.

He didn’t miss a stride kept his hands buried in his pockets even as he crossed the boulevard. From the other side he surveyed his pathetic island of grass scanning for incoming intruders. He was standing on private property. He had been repeatedly been warned about this.

Threatened that if he insisted on coming on private property the law would be summoned.

He was asked if he understood and he nodded his head ashamed at having just been scolded. He said he understood but he really didn’t. He didn’t understand how anyone could own a building or even a part of a building, even one of the brass door handles on the university’s heavy wooden doors. He couldn’t imagine how someone could own, say, a parking lot or a sprawling school like this one. He knew a secret way to the bathrooms in the basement of one of the buildings, and he knew when the halls were mostly empty.

The student was still on his phone communicating with someone and now he looked eager to speak to the man. He knew that some students really enjoyed donating their parent’s money. The student reached into his pocket and produced some ones.

Hey, I see you out here every day. And I wanted to run an idea by you. I’m a business major and I have an idea you might not have thought of. I’m kind of an idea guy, he admitted, as though apologizing a little for his budding brilliance.

The student continued without being invited to. The student set down his pack and unzipped it and pulled out cardboard folded in half. He unfolded it and handed it to the man. He held it and smiled proudly before unveiling his masterpiece.

My theory is you don’t want to beg for money. My theory is that people naturally want to work They want to be productive members of society, but they don’t know how.

There is enough trash on that little piece of turf that I see you pacing on everyday, that I’m sure you, Mr. Homeless Person, defend as “yours” forcing other beggars to inhabit less desirable skid rows. That if you thought about yourself and your place in the most immediate world you would realize that if you replaced your not too original “Homeless… anything helps” sign with this little beauty, you could make a killing.

He unfolded the signage that he offered as a replacement. Bright white paint on dark brown cardboard apparently chosen for its durability visual contrast. It was nicely crafted, he’d grant that to the student. He read it.

“I’m cleaning up this street for you. Donations are appreciated.”

The student explained that the people with the money would be so impressed with your resourcefulness that they would not only reach deeper into their pockets, but that they would probably offer to take your hand, offer you a boost to the next level. Just like I’m doing.

Just like you’re doing? he asked the student. Boosting me to the next level?

It’s called “re-messaging” they used to call it “rebranding” but it’s re-messaging now, and it works.

He looked down at his own sign. It was pathetic and crumbled and barely legible. But it was honest. He wanted to throw the cardboard the same way he wanted to throw down a prayer card or a half-eaten sandwich when it was handed to him in traffic. But he never did that. Not in front of someone who handed it to him. Even if they were handing him an insult. Even when he had been spit on, he never reacted in any other way that the way he reacted to that student.

Bless you.

He turned and realized that a vulture was getting ready to land on his dirty peninsula of grass and concrete. A skinny black crow moved toward his backpack, hoping it had been forgotten about. Hey, not there. Not there! Mine. Get!

He rushed across six lanes of traffic waving off the intruder.

He turned and noticed that the student had walked on. He imagined him pleased with himself. He almost flung the sign down, but remembered the quality of the materials. It might be worth something. It might be used to light a fire or to keep something dry. He tucked the sign into his own backpack to be considered later.

He paced the median for the rest of that afternoon thinking of what the student had pitched him. “I’m cleaning up this strip of dirty city sidewalk… for you. Donations appreciated.” There certainly was a lot to clean up on this strip of median. There was some pathetic grass unable to grown because of his daily pacing. But mostly he noticed as he walked the rest of the day, there was dust, a condom, plastic vodka bottle, candy wrappers. He had never really looked at the variety of the trash.

He had never really considered the nature of this microcosm. The ugliness of it had made him feel bad for the year since he had witnessed its previous tenant step into traffic. He crossed the street and even stood in front of traffic after the driver sped away. He stood over the median’s previous tenant and comforted him. And when they loaded him in the ambulance he handed the paramedic’s the injured man’s pack. Bless you, he told the man.

Location, location, location.

He had sized up that median in relation to passing and stopping traffic. It was a good part of town. An educated part of town.

But now, without even realizing it at the time, he was thinking bigger. Sure there was trash here, but there was even more across the street where it had blown and collected against a construction fence. As far as he could see in every direction there was trash that had been invisible to him earlier that morning when he arrived to claim his piece of real estate as he had done for a year.

But now he had a feeling, a hopeful feeling. Tonight he would take a good long look at the sign.

The post Get a Life. appeared first on A Day On.

Our discussions have gotten to the point of tension. And no one needs more negative tension in his or her life and friends aren’t supposed to be lobbing grenades at each other anyway. But we have been.

My guilty pleasure that plays through my earbuds when I’m on a long run, The Joe Rogan Experience, has somehow morphed into one of the battlegrounds we argue about in these crabby days.

These days seem to have so much crabbing going on that if we all lived in one house our collective mom would interrupt our bickering, smack our asses and shoo us outside telling us to go out and play until we wear ourselves out.

I’m really just trying to figure out why they think he’s some irresponsible or responsible messenger of chaos. Why do they think he’s capable of infecting the minds of us simpletons? And, is he? Lately I feel like I’ve been playing the role of apologist and disciple in some cult of Rogan. I’m tired with the discussion. I’m bored with it. For me, I hope this article will replace blood-pressure-raising debates.

And I will stop asking why you despise Rogan just as I avoid saying the name Nancy Pelosi to my mom, who to my knowledge has never met Nancy Pelosi, yet claims to despise her.

Why I Like Joe Rogan

Life is about interacting with others and trying to make sense of existence. I enjoy watching Rogan do this as a kind of model.

• Rogan approaches strangers and friends on his show with a non-combative good will, a readiness to be the other person’s friend above all else, and to accept them as a person of value, whatever their differences.

• Rogan is respectful. He notices when he and his guest start to get into the shit talking and he usually cheerfully takes notice of it and then stops doing it.

• He’s genuinely curious about people and what they do to fill the hours of their allotted days and he’s not afraid to look silly by asking them to tell him about it.

• He’s a father who loves his daughters, his wife and his dog.

• He likes to discuss interesting stuff. His episodes go between 3 and 5 hours. He is never responsible for the early death of a budding conversation.

• Even though Rogan is a comic, he never goes for the silly comeback. He never ruins the moment or redirects it with a quip. He never takes advantage of a weakness where a lesser host would make a snarky rebuttal.

• He knows when to intellectually tap out. He’s not afraid to say: But, maybe I’m just a fucking idiot. As an emergency brake, he employs Young Jaime, a Google-master and an honest checker of facts.

• He usually doesn’t point out when someone goes a little or a lot too far. He lets them talk. He lets us listen.

What I Understand About The Joe Rogan Criticism

Look, I get it. My own ears prick up whenever it seems the bottle of Buffalo Trace is getting light. Or when he smokes that strain that won’t let him shut up. I wince a little when Rogan or his guest utters what I know will be tomorrow’s scandalous soundbyte. In those moments I too cringe because the machine is recording.

In the course of a long conversation, or a life, even the best people have dumb reactions.

This Isn’t Really About Rogan; It’s About Me

On my long runs with the Joe Rogan Experience in my ears, I’ve discovered that I like to genuinely change my mind. It’s a flexibility exercise and it has measurable results.  I’m less quick to interrupt. I genuinely want to spend more time listening. I learned that it doesn’t feel as good as I might have thought to win an argument.

Though listening to Rogan and his ilk (Fridman, Harris, Peterson, Attia, Jocko and those wacky Weinsteins), I have learned the fine art of the “steel-man.”

The steel man is the opposite of the straw man. When you straw man your opponent’s argument you present it as something weak and by looking at something in this less-than-charitable light we rob ourselves of the opportunity to inhabit another person’s heart and mind. We say: there’s nothing inside there worth understanding.

To steel man your “opponent’s” argument you have to genuinely, in full good faith want to understand it, give it your best shot, fully intend to savor it and enjoy it.

So, tell me if I correctly understand you. You’re worried that the shows I’m listening to are filling my head with misinformation. You’re worried that I might act irresponsibly. Maybe you’re worried that you don’t recognize me in my opinions any more when we go out and get drinks.

But, I assure you this: Though I’m trying to grow and improve, I will do my best to always meet you with uncommon respect as a friend.

Now, if you’ll excuse me I need to put on my earbuds, queue up the latest JRE and head out for a run. You’re welcome to join along or just wait here.

The post My Joe Rogan Experience appeared first on A Day On.

My client needed a booking plugin that would allow their customers to sign up for classes at their Pottery studio. I had never added an appointment booking functionality to a website so I was eager to begin their website project and learn the process so that I could sell this valuable feature to other clients.

What is an Appointment Booking Plugin?

An Appointment Booking Plugin for WordPress is a component that adds the functionality of allowing site visitors to see what appointment time slots are available and too choose one and “book” it by selecting it, submitting their contact information, possibly paying in advance and sending their intention to have an appointment to the owner of the website. The plugin should also block out the selected time so that other website visitors cannot double book it, causing a conflict.

Who Needs An Appointment Booking Plugin on their WordPress Website?

Almost anyone who sells services could probably use an appointment booking plugin. Attorneys, Instructors, Service Technicians like Plumbers, Handymen or Handywomen, Bed & Breakfast Owners, Studio Rental. Anyone who needs to commit something to a customer for a specific time without having time conflicts could probably benefit from this application.

How Do You Know If Your Website Client Needs a Booking Plugin?

The first step in working with a client, I’ve learned, is to talk my way through the process with the client herself so that I’m in full understanding of her expectations. And this client had some very specific expectations (listed below).

My Client’s Expectations For Their Class Booking Functionality

They needed to be able to…

• schedule classes that were ongoing (Pottery classes were scheduled at three times every Monday.)
• export a list of people who had signed up for a class.
• charge customers online and have them pay for classes.
• use Square as a payment platform.
• force students to choose four classes that they would attend, but classes did not need to be consecutive.
• be flexible enough to allow people to sign up to begin a class at any time. (There was no group “Start Date.” Any class could be someone’s first pottery class or their final class.)

Armed with these client expectations and my own expectations (The plugin had to look attractive and be inexpensive) I began searching the features and trying out appointment booking plugins and I finally settled on Webba Booking Plugin for WordPress.

Why Webba Booking Is My Choice For A WordPress Booking Plugin

Webba Booking is a WordPress Appointment Booking Plugin that has a nice-looking interface, tons of features, is sold at a reasonable price ($89 for the Pro version at the time of this article), has extremely responsive customer service (they replied to my emails promptly and even allowed me a trial Pro Version so I could see if it would work for me!), lots of documentation and a track record of a lot of WordPress installs and 5-Star recommendations.

In fact, the only thing that I could find that was lacking for the Webba Booking Plugin was an overview of how to quickly set up the plugin and an explanation of how the plugin worked, a quick and dirty set-up guide, to give me some idea of the lay of the land.

I had to block out the better part of a day to read their exhaustive documentation and examine every single feature (and there are MANY!) and search for third-party instructional videos (there are FEW!) and to piece together how to use this extremely extensive and full-featured plugin so that I could find out if it would work on my website.

Spoiler Alert!: It works GREAT!

And the lack of an Overview and a Quick Set Up Guide is what I hope this article (and accompanying video) will provide.

The Webba Booking Quick and Dirty Set Up Tutorial

Webba Booking Plugin Tutorial Overview:

Step 1 Install the Plugin

Step 2 Create a Category

Step 3 Create a Service

Step 4 Add a Signup Form to a Page

Step 5 Integrate with WooCommerce

The post Getting Started With The Webba Booking Plugin appeared first on A Day On.

This joke came to mind when I was trying to come up with something to write about. Here it is…

Two friends go for a walk in the woods. At one point they spot a hungry grizzly bear charging down the mountain from above them. One guy reaches into his pack, produces a pair of running shoes and begins quickly getting into them. His friend points out, do you actually think you can outrun that bear? He looks back at his friend and says, I just have to outrun you.

This joke is funny on several levels.

First, the idea that as Death in the shape of a grizzly is bolting down a mountain, yet time seems to freeze long enough for us to fully enjoy the interaction as the two men discuss the logic of one man’s actions. Jokes often share this. Somewhere high above this mountain an airplane carrying a rabbi, an attorney, a Catholic priest and a troop of Boy Scouts is in a nose dive as a similar calm, rational exchange is taking place. Leaving us with a punchline that forever holds off the inevitable fiery crash.

Second, at the moment of death, one of these men is going to take valuable time to point out the futility in the actions of his friend.

Third, that the friend is ridiculously prepared for this event almost as if he predicted it and made his life decision based on sizing up the athletic vulnerability of his friend.

Fourth, of course, is the revealed truth that in our moments of desperation we are likely to betray even our best friendships to stay out of Death’s jaws a day longer. Another joke has a two friends getting robbed at gunpoint as one makes a point of pulling a bill from his wallet and handing it to his friend instead of the robber: Here’s that $100 I borrowed last month.

Fifth, this is funny because of the unvarnished honesty that will surely strike the less prepared man by surprise. Some punch lines are almost literally that – a phrase that mercilessly delivers a wallop to an unwitting victim.

But the joke has to stop just before the impending fall. If we add one more sentence, we ruin the joke. If we say: “And the bear caught him and slowly dined on his entrails as he lay on the brittle pine needles until he faded from blood loss with the stink of the bear’s breath as his last living experience.” it stops being funny.

That ruins the joke. It has to end with the joke’s audience themselves providing the look on the man’s face as his friend gives his laces one last cinch and delivers the last bit of harshly honest feedback the man will ever hear.

Maybe this is what makes us laugh as well. Maybe we go through life with those closest to us – mom, dad, our friend whom we hike with – telling us little lies. Or, more likely omitting the truth or smoothing off any uncomfortable edges that the truth might have.

Is it humorous that the friend’s last human exchange will be so coldly delivered, honest and unvarnished and ultimately fatal?

Is it funny that Death itself will laugh loudest at the punchline delivered to our hiker? It does raise the stakes much higher than a simple slip on the pavement which we are sure to laugh at as well. His immediate and harsh understanding of the understated news that time is limited and his is in particular, is somehow preposterous.

Is it funny that we’re all running away from Death – running against the wind, as Bob Seger would sing?

Maybe it’s funny because we all know that eventually the bear is going to catch us. What will be the look on our face as our friend delivers the news?

This week I had an argument with a friend about the host of a podcast that is one of my current addictions. The host is a little like Trump in that he seems to divide people, though, unlike Trump, perhaps – not intentionally.

He’s a genius. He’s an idiot.

So, here we were having this conversation as we walked through the woods. And maybe we attracted the attention of a predator. I argue with my friend that it’s not about whether or not a healthy twenty-year-old should get a shot. It’s about respecting people with whom we might disagree, and listening rather than trying to convince. Each of us lined up our arguments and talked past each other – loud enough for something hiding in the forest to wake up.

I think we both thought we were carrying a pair of running shoes in our backpack.

In any case, whatever we were discussing is of little importance relative to the speed at which the grizzly is charging at us. I think both of us are the types to be aware that the grizzly is out there. And, to be honest I think it’s been on our minds more and more.

My friend said I was spending too much energy defending the podcaster. Maybe I was. It’s like me to think I’m enjoying a spirited debate when, to others in the room I’m coming off more like a bully.

Maybe I was taking our exchange too seriously. Maybe I was lacing up my running shoes at my friend’s expense.

I don’t listen to Rogan because of his sage medical advice. I don’t listen to Rogan to know how to vote. I listen to Rogan to learn how to listen better, with respect, with kindness and with good will.

I want to fight the base animal instinct that finds its way into human friendships to outrun our friends when the inevitable approaches us; I want to face the bear with my friends and fight it off.

The post Two Men Walk In The Woods appeared first on A Day On.

I used to use the standard Divi Header in various configurations but after a while I became bored. Mistakenly, I thought that those were the only options available on the Divi Theme… and then I discovered the Divi Theme Builder. Below are the instructions for spicing up your Divi Header. There’s a video at the bottom if you just want to follow along as I do it to my site!

Get to Know the Divi Theme Builder

If you want a particular style of header or body configuration or footer applied to some or all of your pages you can create special headers, footers or even body areas in the Divi Theme Builder. You can easily access the Divi Theme Builder by hovering over “Divi” on your WordPress Administrator left menu and then selecting the Divi Theme Builder sub-menu item.

Create A new Global Header Using The Divi Theme Builder

Simply I like to start from the top.

Create The Top Blue Email and Phone Bar

1. On your section begin by making all margins and padding set to 0 this removes any padding that Divi adds automatically
2. Grab the color from the logo (Use the Photoshop “Color Picker” It’s a little eyedropper icon!)
3. Create a row with one column
4. Background Color: BLUE
5. Design > Sizing> Width 100% > Max Width 2100 > Row alignment: Center
6. Spacing Margin: All 0px > Padding all 0px
7. Add Text Module
8. Type in your email and phone number (We could add social media icons, too, if we wanted!)
9. Design > Text Bold > Color White > 16px > Spacing 3px top and bottom > 5% right

Create The Middle Logo and Menu Area

1. Set up image for your logo png, maybe some shadow photoshop
2. I used a 1/4 3/4 column structure
3. Overall  Design > Sizing > Width: 100% > Max Width: 2100px > Height: 70px > Max Height: 70px
4. Spacing: Margin> 0px top and bottom > Padding 0px top and bottom

Add an Image Module

1. Image Module – upload your png logo – link to home page – Alignment: Center
2. Set sizing Width: 300px and Max Width: 300px
3. Spacing – turn OFF “Show Space Below the Image”
4. Margin: Desktop -30px top > -50px bottom > 5% Left
5. Margin: Tablet 0px top and bottom > 5% Left
6. Margin: Phone 0px top and bottom > auto Left and Right (Centers it!)

Add A Menu Module

1. Assign Main Menu
2. No additional elements
3. Design > Layout > Style: Left Aligned
4. Menu Text > Pick your colors, font, weight, size
5. Text Alignment (Right) on Desktop; (Phone and Tablet settings don’t matter because we’re going to disable this menu on those devices!)
6. Spacing: Desktop: 20px Margin; 15% Right margin (Tablet and Phone settings don’t matter: gonna disable!)
7. Advanced > Visibility Disable on Phone and Tablet

Create the Centered Mobile Menu Module and Divi Section

1. Create new Row Full Width Column Structure – Advanced > Visibility: Disable on Desktop
2. Duplicate the Menu Module and add it to the new Row
3. Design > Layout > Centered
4. All your menu text design options should probably stay the same

Add A Couple Nice Touches to Spice Things Up

1. Add a background image behind the menu/logo by adding Background image to background of whole section. This should be something light enough or dark enough so that your logo and menu text stand out against it.
2. Make Section stick to the top by going to Advanced > Scroll Effects > Sticky Position: Stick to Top
3. Hint: because we’re messing with moving elements margins and controls won’t show up correctly, you can hover over the element you want and when the outlines show up (Blue for Sections, Green For Rows and Black for Modules) you can just double click and edit that particular element.

Thanks for tuning in to watch this Divi How-To video.

Check out other videos on our Web Life Secrets YouTube Channel and on the WebLifeSecrets blog.

The post Creating a Divi Header With An Overlapping Logo That Pops appeared first on A Day On.

This week I lived with the commitment of a promise to do more of MY work at the risk of losing $1000 if I failed to produce.

I think it’s appropriate to just comment on the commitment to actually DO the creative work when you feel like it. I’m talking about starting a new job – YOU or in this case, ME.

This boss looked like me and he even knew every little trick my might try to play to get out of doing my work. He had my checkbook and was ready to dock me if the work wasn’t completed and posted by Sunday at 2pm.

I used to think that my love for an activity such as writing was all I needed. That I would naturally gravitate to it and that quality time doing it over quantity of time was all I would need to make me great. I’ve learned that though I might gravitate to activities like writing – without discipline I won’t make any marked improvements. And I might not do it as much as I could.

I Still Try To Take The Easy Way

So, without a plan I sifted through what I was sure was a treasure trove of rough drafts I’ve accumulated in a folder on my desktop. This folder is proof of my work ethic previous to this week. It showed a bunch of impulsive ideas with barely any meat on their bones. I was frustrated and now, I think, a little blessed to see plainly that this method of production doesn’t work.

Spontaneity is Nice But Discipline Feels Great

I discovered myself sitting and writing more often, and not because I felt inspired, with nothing pressing to do and all the other planets lined up perfectly. I found myself writing because I had promised to write. I had an audience of one genuinely curious about what I would force myself to create. And another audience member calling me and asking where the work – and the $1000 – was.

Increasing Creative Work Can Actually Increase Your Capacity

If you take someone who is tired and burned out at work and tell them they need to exercise – take long walks, lift weights or go for a swim, they’re likely to look at you like you’re crazy. But this week I have found that self directed creative workouts increased my capacity rather than taxing it past the breaking point.

I felt a little angry at myself and foolish for having, as my racquetball partner pointed out, unnecessarily created a lot more work for myself just as my work load at my two gigs was increasing. But I discovered that having this little commitment occupying a place in my brain and in my day forced my thoughts out of the dark corners of work commitment where they were going in circles ruminating and worrying. It seemed to lift my mood as though I carried a pleasant secret.

Structure Promises a Path, But Will I Apply It

I told myself that I had plenty of time to get it done. I laughed at myself a little as I watched myself doing things other than getting down to the work- unnecessary things. I saw myself calculating how to get through this week, money still in pocket, and telling myself that next week would be different. I saw myself giving myself breaks that would lead to deadline anxiety.

Sadly, I saw myself pulling off that trick of sitting down and pulling things together at the last moment. And my haste actually forced me to be honest with myself and that honesty made me grin a little while I typed up to the deadline.

But I could hear my father’s voice the way he always sounded when he saw me push something up to the deadline or cut corners. He would say: “Think how much better it would have been if you hadn’t waited.” Heavy shit. And now I’m finally hearing it.

Surprises About Commitment

All of these impulses would have been enough for me, before the $1000 bet – to tell myself that this wasn’t the right time to start. To tell myself that the half-written notes in my desktop folder were proof that my ideas weren’t really any good. To tell myself that without inspiration I was just going to be wasting my time and that putting in the hours wasn’t the key to this work.

This is one way that the philosophy of A Day On needed some tweaking.

The post Early Lessons of the $1000 Challenge appeared first on A Day On.

Just prior to January 1, 2022, on our family trip, inspired with the sense of possibility that that Chicago at Christmastime always gives me, I decided to spend more time writing my blog – A Day On. I missed the game of finding out what I thought about things.

By January 2nd I was sure that even though I had skipped the first day of my resolution, that it wasn’t too late to still get on the horse. But I didn’t. I didn’t think about it much for a week or so.

Then in a conversation with a friend, we both talked about how we should buckle down and produce more work.

I blurted out: “We should bet each other $1000 so that we actually stick with it.” He accepted.

My Blog Changed My Life the Better – That Was The Problem

My blog followed a principle I later heard preached by Tim Ferriss. It was to “scratch my own itch.” I had been swirling around in a holding pattern that I couldn’t break out of when it came to work. I kept finding job after job that left me disappointed and anxious. Would my lifetime be a series of dreading going to various jobs – each depleting me more and more?

A Day On was meant only to be a collection of my thoughts about what I wanted for my life. A kind of vision board. And, it worked. And maybe that’s why I had become complacent about contributing to it.

The blog had “worked” for a test group of one, then I kinda let it slip.

You’re Not Hungry to Achieve Goals When You’re Satisfied

Motivation can be hard to capture and hang onto because I’m satisfied. Most of my needs are met. This is the most bountiful time in which to live.

Every morning it seems more reasonable to stay under the covers than to head out into the cold, difficult world of putting in effort.

How to stay in the game if you have some comfort in your life?

————-

Using Friends to Achieve Personal Goals

On his podcast, Tim Ferriss often preaches an idea to motivate yourself using a bet with a friend.

You can bet an amount of money that you REALLY don’t want to lose. I threw out the number $1000 to my friend, Mitchell, because it’s substantial. It seemed to command some respect from me. And as I write this right now I know that I partially do so because I will be fined if I don’t.

But just doing it isn’t enough. I don’t want to game the system. I want to run my best race. I’m not competing with Mitchell, I’m training myself. He’s my spotter. I don’t want him to be able to be reasoned with when I consider changing the terms a bit. It’s too late, I threw down the gauntlet and now I have to perform… for myself.

People Hate Losing Something More Than They Like Gaining Something

According to Tim Ferriss who cites studies, it’s generally more of a motivation to people to not lose something than it is to potentially gain something.

I’m not that motivated to win – more to just play, but if my friends said they would stop playing with me if I didn’t start winning, I would be motivated to kick effort into a higher gear.

Generally in some kind of transformative goal, the predicted outcome promises to be a pretty big payoff – weight loss, new physique, better job, new skill. But we drop out because we’re not as driven by gaining something (even if it’s the world).

We must trick ourselves into achieving by promising ourselves that we will lose something if we give up. Makes sense.

Climbing Out Of My Own Primordial Soup

Achieving a goal of transformation requires more than the imagination to project ourselves into a better reality. It requires the everyday diligence that runs counter to present reality. We’re stuck in the mud because pulling our feet out of the mud is difficult and not pulling is comfortable.

The only thing more difficult than doing a difficult thing is not getting past it – waking up another day in the mud. We tell ourselves we’re swimming when in fact we know we’re treading water. Get on with it. Place a $1000 alligator behind you.

The mud-free life is cleaner and lighter.  But until you’ve pulled every last part of you out of the sucking soup and into the sun, it’s VERY easy to remain in the mud. The mud-free life leaves you open to choose your direction… and that’s scary as hell.

What goal do you give up on? Tightening up that belly, finding love, starting your own business, getting an education, being honest with a loved one, etc?  

How Much Money Are Your Big Goals Worth?

What amount of money would make you go through the effort every day to pull yourself out of the mud with intention? As if being covered in mud weren’t bad enough, what amount of money being pulled from your grasp would make you put in the extra effort every day toward achieving your set goals?

$1000 seemed worthwhile for me to get my butt out of bed a little early and get to work on the stuff I already love to do, but just need a firm, non-negotiable directive to actually do it.

$500 probably would have been worth it for me to live up to this commitment, but $1000 seems like it leaves no wiggle room at all. I can’t imagine, what would allow me to give up $1000. I likely haven’t even encountered it yet.

So, now, having made this bet,  simply declaring that I would pay someone $1000 if I failed to keep my word, I have discovered accountability. Having recorded the video on this page, and having written this explanation to you… once again, I click the button that says, Publish.

The post I Don’t Need a New Year to Set a New Year Resolution appeared first on A Day On.

I didn’t post something on Facebook or anywhere else. It didn’t seem enough. And even though I am a man in my 50’s, I must admit that my soul is a little heavy about it.

Such an influence, such a point of orientation is gone from my life.  And yet, do your childhood influences ever really go away? They pushed you in a certain direction as you left the shore but that initial shove ripples through your life. Maybe the best you can hope for is that you will influence others in a good way.

As a kid I always felt an attraction to the drums but was turned away at every opportunity. The school band and the high-school band needed trumpet players, and so I was given a place in the brass section.  But, when I went to see the Signals concert my sophomore year at the St Louis Checkerdome I began what would be a new course in my life.

Because I’m a nerd I didn’t buy a t-shirt or button at the merchandise kiosk. I purchased a tour program the same dimensions as their new album with the Signals Dalmatian sniffing the red fire hydrant. We found our seats and I opened the program and began thumbing through the large images of the band to familiarize myself with what it was we were about to see. And there was the photo of Neil Peart grinning with sunglasses, Expos baseball hat, headphones and cheesy 80’s moustache from behind that serious set of drums, and I began to read.

“Once again, they’re Tamas,” he explained, writing about his gorgeous drum set. I read a few of the vignettes describing the backgrounds of each of their songs and my friend elbowed me to join him to hit the bathrooms before the concert would begin.

As I peed, I overheard some guys a few urinals down complaining that it was too bad that the drummer was dying. I was shocked. I had just “met” this guy with his interesting writing style a few minutes ago and I was looking forward to learning more about him. I remember noticing from the photos in the tour program how short his hair was, and that he looked older and more restrained than what I thought a rockstar should look. “That’s why his hair’s so short,” the other guy at the urinal submitted. “Brain cancer.” I remember this clearly but don’t know why he hypothesized this very specific disease. I do remember thinking that I better hurry up and start enjoying this guy because apparently his time was limited. Fortunately, those guys were wrong in their diagnosis. Peart lived many years after that 1982 tour. He later spoke about the strange rumor and about how strange it was that strangers would approach him on the street to ask about it. “Imagine if it were true,” he said. “That you would approach a stranger in that way!”

Years later I can only guess that this misdiagnosis by a burnout in a concert hall john must have been because Peart was known for his brain. On one live album, bandmate Geddy Lee introduces him as he leads into his requisite solo: “Okay kids, it’s time for Doctor Braino.” He was “The Professor.”

As I zipped up and headed back to my seat in the 13th row on Alex’s side I looked forward to a concert without realizing that it would change my life.

That night I made the decision to follow my inclination to play the drums. I went to a local music shop and purchased a little white set of “Mico-sonic” off-brand drums from a guy named Steve Strayhorn. Steve was nice enough to patiently answer all my questions every time I called the shop over the next few weeks. He later became one of my drum teachers. He was a hell of a drummer (especially impressive at Samba), a very nice guy and a wonderful influence. He died a few years ago from cancer.

Of course I struggled my whole drumming life to play the way Neil played. Playing drums offered me enough of an identity in high school that I was afforded a few friends, a quest and (as Joe Rogan says) something to suck at that you can try to get better at.  This last element became an important part of my life throughout my life. And Peart set the bar high.

Of course I was way into Peart. Not only did I study his drumming; I read his lyrics and interviews and picked up the suggestions that he dropped pointing to the writers of what he called the “golden age of American literature,” Hemingway, Dos Passos, Fitzgerald and the other Lost Generation artists.

I took up and learned to enjoy road cycling and other cardio activities.

He was a Renaissance Man and he taught me that the world offers so many handles to grab hold of and to explore.

Sometime after high school I drifted around without an aim. At some point I wrote him a letter and sent it to him care of Modern Drummer Magazine. I didn’t know that this was a thing. I certainly didn’t expect for him to write back. But one day the mail came and there was a postcard from Canada with that iconic shot of him behind the drums on a raft on Lac Perry outside Le Studio. It meant the world to me. It meant that my mundane life in the American Midwest might actually be connected in some way with the outrageous dreams that filled my mind. Maybe there was a path to wonderful things if only one took a chance!  To me it meant that if an impulse was felt; it should be acted on.

In a way, Peart got me into college. Not knowing what to major in, I went and studied Literature and Writing because he had already given me a head start… being the “professor” as he was . I wrote a couple books to explore that itch. I think they were pretty good. They still sit in boxes in my upstairs closet.

Over the years Peart’s lyrics would mean new things as I entered different phases of my life. His lyrics expressed thoughts that might be a little beyond where you were when you first heard them, but that you would grow into.

Today, as moody thoughts continued to keep me brooding, I decided to sit down at my computer and try to sort it out. He often quoted another writer as having said, “I write so I know what I’m thinking.” It is practical advice.

When I think of Peart’s poetry and lyrics I often found myself as perplexed when looking at the song in its entirety as if I were examining a cubist painting. Love song lyrics were often juxtaposed with what seemed technical specs. “We need someone to talk to and someone to sweep the floors. Incomplete.” What?!  “Atmospheric disturbance, the feverish flux of human interface and interchange.”

But sometimes phrases would cut through with a heavy authority and weight.

If love survives, though everything is lost. We will pay the price but we will not count the cost.

Experience slips away.

As I write this tribute and summing up of my relationship to my childhood idol upon learning of his death I suppose I just want to offer a wave of respect to him and a “thank you.”

The post Farewell to The Professor: Remembering Neil Peart appeared first on A Day On.