When Success Equals Failure

It’s a given that we all want to be successful. If only we knew what that meant for us personally. Of course my success won’t necessarily be yours or vice versa. In fact, my triumph could be your disaster. My exam success (a C+ for example) could be your failure. My best ten kilometre run time could be a terrible result for you. My new dream job could be your worst nightmare. And my ‘amazing’ new salary could be your spare change.

See: different things for different people. Which is why we need to define success for our own life. Our own purpose. Our own future. What does success look, feel, sound and smell like for you?

In a Hurry to Nowhere

The number of busy people who are perpetually rushing towards nowhere in particular is quite astounding. You know some of them. You might even be them? The very busy going around in circles brigade, I call them. A lot of time, energy and effort for very little in return. Other than frustration, that is. Some people work very hard to stay in the same place. Even though they desperately want to be somewhere else. Time for a new plan perhaps.

Or any plan?

The Frustrated Fraternity consists of three sub-groups:

• Those who lack clarity and certainty about what success looks like for them.  
• Those who do know what they want but aren’t really sure how to acquire it.
• Those who know what they want and know how to get it but aren’t prepared to do the work, pay the price or endure the discomfort.

Are you in one of these groups?

The Plan?

Stand back and take an objective, unemotional look at how we humans operate and it will become apparent that on some level, many of us hope that success will somehow ‘find’ us. That it will miraculously fall on our heads from a great height, perhaps. Or that things will somehow work themselves out. That’s not a plan; it’s a delusion. Success doesn’t happen to us; we create it.  

Or we don’t.

While some things will always be beyond our control, for the most part, success or failure (in our world) will invariably come back to the decisions we make and the things we do. Or in the case of many; the decisions we don’t make and the things we don’t do. Too many of us are masters of avoidance and procrastination. We know what to do but we don’t do what we know. For a range of reasons.

In Pursuit of Better Results

While we clearly have an ever-expanding range of success tools (books, CDs, DVDs, blogs, workshops, coaches) at our finger tips, the reality is that we (the collective we) don’t seem to be producing better results than we did pre the self-help revolution (take a look around). Today I’ve decided that, rather than presenting an unnecessarily lengthy dissertation that few people will remember or act on, I will break the success journey down into four fundamental steps. Feel free to put them on your fridge. Or maybe tattoo them on your bicep. Or forehead. This is a formula that I use with many of the people I coach.

These steps work if you do.

1. Define it. Get clear, certain and specific about what you want (and don’t want) for your life. Understand not only what you want but why you want it. When it comes to your long-term happiness (the universal goal), the ‘why’ will always be more important than the ‘what’ because the what is about your head, whereas the why is about your heart.

2. Prepare for it.  Make (courageous) decisions, adjust your attitude, ask the right questions, set goals, plan strategically, research, organise, commit.

3. Build it. Take action, keep taking action, explore your potential, adapt, persevere, deal with the discomfort, do what most won’t, take more action.

4. Enjoy it. Allow yourself to enjoy what you’ve achieved. Stop finding your way back to misery. Learn to be in the moment. Love and appreciate the now; it’s all you’ll ever have.

Get Busy. Stop over-thinking.

xx

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Late For a Gig

On Tuesday night I had one of my regular radio gigs; just an hour on the sports station I work for here in Melbourne (SEN). For someone who prides himself on his punctuality and organisation, I was running a little late by the time I left my house. Instead of arriving at my normal time of six forty-five, it looked as though I would be getting there closer to seven. Something of a minor concern considering I’m on-air just after the seven o’clock news.

Driving to the station and doing some travel time calculations in my head, I could feel a little anxiety make its presence felt. I considered the potential consequences of not being in that chair when the red light went on. Not a good result. To say the least. Apparently silence is not good for the ratings. Or the radio career. In this instance my anxiety translated to muscular tension, increased heart rate and breathing, an overall feeling of agitation, slight tightness in the stomach, a little sweating (sorry) and although I can’t be sure, probably increased blood pressure. Yep, that whole driving while measuring your blood pressure thing… not really a great plan.

Musical Valium

Knowing that I couldn’t change the situation, I decided to avoid the high speed stunt driving option and chillax with some John Mayer instead. For me he’s like musical valium. From the moment I pressed the play button I could literally feel my self-created anxiety begin to dissipate. That’s right; self-created. Situations don’t create anxiety, we do. I do. You do. A situation (running late for live radio for example) might be the catalyst for stress, but it’s you and I who are the creators of that stress (via our reactions). Not only was the song Free Fallin’ but so was my blood pressure. Johnny Boy took me from anxiety to a place of calm in a matter of one or two minutes. A little harmonising with the great JM and I found myself in a different place. Geez my singing voice is awesome. In my head. If only it sounded that good on the outside.

Music to Manage Emotions

I don’t know about you but I find music to be an incredibly powerful tool when it comes to managing my emotional state. For me it’s always been the quickest, safest, cheapest, healthiest and most effective ’state changer’. Maybe that’s one of the reasons I’ve never felt the need to use alcohol. Ever. Music can pump me up for a workout, it can move me to tears or it can gently massage my anxious self into a state of total calm. I find it easy to lose myself in music. I have been playing guitar since I was six and when my guitar is in my hands it’s like I’m a musical zombie. A very relaxed zombie.  When I was a kid, every night I would go to sleep with a record (remember vinyl) easing me into La-La Land. Queen, ELO, Dr. Hook, The Eagles, Jackson Brown, James Taylor, Linda Ronstadt, and Foreigner just to name a few. And yes, I’m that old. My late-night music forays were safe, familiar, comfortable and calming.

Musical Therapy

We all know that music has the ability to make us “feel good” but it’s only been over the last few years that we’ve really begun to explore and understand (scientifically) the numerous potential health benefits of a little Mozart, Pink, John Mayer or perhaps even some Glee Club action (the new feel-good TV show that revolves around music). And when I say health benefits I am not speaking metaphorically, I am being literal. Musical therapy is being used in a variety of settings, for a variety of reasons with great success. Music has the ability to affect a person’s nervous system in a matter of seconds, with the net result often being a rapid shift in the individual’s physical, emotional and psychological states.

Self-Medicating with Music

The key with creating our own version of musical therapy is to learn what works for us; taking into account the desired outcome (motivation, relaxation, pleasure) and our personal likes and dislikes. Just like we don’t all respond optimally to the same eating or exercise plan, neither should we all consume the same musical diet.  While I consider some obscenely loud AC/DC to be my ideal training partner, my father considers it to be… intolerable noise. Shit, I think he calls it. Positive result for me, negative for him. While a little Barry Manilow or Kenny G might move my mother to tears, it’s more likely to move me… out of the house. Clearly, which music will inspire, motivate, annoy, excite or calm varies greatly from person to person.  

Here are a few good reasons to inject a little more music into your world (heart, head, spirit, body):

Music can…

• Relieve symptoms of anxiety and depression.
• Affect your nervous system (positively).
• Be an effective stress management tool (when used methodically).
• Lower blood pressure.
• Slow our heart rate.
• Put you in a more creative, positive and productive state.
• Help you stay motivated and focused (for exercise etc.).
• Ease the perceived pain for chronic sufferers.
• Speed up the healing process.
• Calm babies.
• Give us joy and pleasure – producing positive hormonal (endocrine system) changes. When we experience pleasure our body produces ‘happy’ hormones; the same hormones that help us fight disease and sickness.
• Make us smarter! The “Mozart effect” is the most popularly known example of this. This was a study which demonstrated that listening to classical music, more specifically to a Mozart piano sonata, increased the measured results on the Stanford-Binet IQ test by eight to nine points.  
• Increase energy levels.
• Help us to learn better. Bulgarian psychologist George Lozanov found that students who listened to instrumental music while learning a foreign language had an increased speed of learning and a greater degree of memory retention than those who did not.
• Sleep better. Adults with sleep problems who listened to 45 minutes of soft music at bedtime reported a 35 percent improvement in their sleep, according to a study published in the February 2009 edition of The Journal of Advanced Nursing. Not only did they sleep better and longer, but they also reported less daytime dysfunction.

So now that you know what pumps me up and chills me out, what (who) do you reach for when you need a musical  pick-me-up or calm-me-down? Also love to hear your general thoughts on this cool topic.

Ciao  xx

If you would like to listen to (and watch) my fave John Mayer chill-pill, click here.

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Hi Team. Today we have another instalment from our Newbie Blogger; the very lovely CJ…

Please Don’t Slip on My Spleen

Yesterday, as I was driving home after a mammoth gym session (Note to self: when the trainer – aka the Smiling Assassin – asks “how’s that weight you’re lifting?” do not answer with “It’s fine”. Because he’ll only make it heavier. Answer him with: “Sorry? What was that? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of my bones snapping, muscles tearing and my ACL rupturing”.

I’m not sure what an ACL is but I know footballers have them. And tear them.  A lot. “Oh, and that red shiny thing on the carpet over there is my spleen. Or perhaps a fragment of liver. Either way, it just shot out of my belly button on that last rep. Mind you don’t step on it or you could slip and have a nasty fall. And we wouldn’t want that now, would we?”

This morning I noticed a poster on a bus advertising a new film which has just been released: ‘The Time Travellers’ Wife’. The film is based on one of my favourite books of the same title by Audrey Niffenegger. Part of me wants to see the film but I also know that it’s unlikely that it will do the book justice. Do they ever?

Bitten by the Travel Bug

It struck me that most of my favourite films and books involve time travel: Back to the Future, The Amazing Mr Blunden, Terminator, Playing Beatie Bow. It’s not the how of time travel which fascinates me (any device more complex than my hair straightener baffles me); it’s the question of what we would change if we could visit the past which really intrigues me. Imagine if 30 (40, 50, 60) year-old you could have lunch with 16 year-old you. What would you tell you? So to speak.

The Mercurial Past

If you think about it, ‘the past’ is a curious and slippery concept in itself.  We probably all remember ruling up ‘timelines’ in primary (elementary) school where past, present and future were relegated to a linear progression. Time was presented as mathematical and absolute. But, in reality, it isn’t. Because ‘the past’ which is filed away in our minds is relative. Of course, we have evidence of the past – buildings, artifacts, photographs, books and innumerable other clues – but our memory of it is affected and distorted by all the aspects of our being that make us, well, us.

But I Saw it with My Own Eyes!

That is, we construct our past in the same way that we construct our present:  through the ‘dirty windscreen’ of our own perceptions. The bugs on that windscreen include our background, education, experiences, fears, assorted emotional baggage, vanity, triumphs, failures, political views, religious beliefs, ambitions, age, gender and so on. There is no universal objective reality. Just in the same way that two witnesses to a bank robbery will provide the police with totally different accounts of the incident (based on their perspectives), you can ask two people to recall the same event from their past only to hear vastly different stories. That’s if they both remember the same event at all.

Time After Time

Recently I caught up with an old friend from high school. Naturally, we discussed the ‘olden days’ and part of the conversation went something like this:

JB:    Do you remember when we went out with each other for about two weeks in Year Ten?
CJ:    Did we?
JB:    Don’t you remember that?
CJ:    No. I can remember slow dancing with you to the last song at a Blue Light Disco. It may have been a Cyndi Lauper song. I think we had one of those let-me-assess-your-dental-work-with-my-tongue kisses.
JB:    I don’t remember that!
CJ:    Thanks a lot.
JB:    Well, you can’t remember the two whole weeks when we were going out with each other. I remember when I walked you home from school. I went to kiss you outside the front of your house but you wouldn’t let me because you were afraid that your mother was watching.
CJ:    Really?
JB:    Really. I can’t believe you don’t remember that!
CJ:    Sorry. Nothing’s coming.
JB:    Nothing’s changed.
CJ:    Shut up.

Well, I’m glad I haven’t been worried about that particular ‘relationship’ for the past 20 or so years. Do you see what I mean? The past is subjective. Events only have the meaning we give them. Or maybe it’s just that my memory is complete rubbish! Yeah, that could be it.

But What If…

However, even though I understand this the-past-only-lives-in-my-mind crap, oops, sorry, Post-Modernist Theory, I still find the whole idea of time travel very enticing. Maybe it’s the impending fortieth birthday thing. Maybe it’s because on some level, I still haven’t come to terms with the mistakes and decisions I’ve made in the past. Maybe it’s because I just want to go back and marvel at the spectacular arse I had when I was twenty-one.

Do you ever think about what you would change? Perhaps you would:

• Choose a different career path: following your dreams, not your parents’
• Listen to your mother when she told you that guy was after only one thing and it wasn’t your well-developed conversational skills
• Rethink that perm
• And those fluoro clothes
• Take back that thing that you said
• Say that thing that you should have said but didn’t
• Invest
• Forgive
• Take lots of photos before gravity becomes your enemy
• Hug your old self
• Find Brad Pitt, destroy his confidence as a budding actor and keep him all to yourself – you know he’s going to age well, right?
• Leave!

Is Pain a ‘Great Teacher’ or Just a Pain in the Arse?

Oh, it’s just so tempting, isn’t it? With the clarity of hindsight, we could spare ourselves from so much hurt and pain. We could steer ourselves down the right path, away from danger, away from the decisions and pivotal moments which we now know were only going to bring us heartache. We could save ourselves so much misery! But what would we lose in the process?

Plenty.

We would lose a big, important part of ourselves because it is the lessons of the past – good and bad, painful and pleasurable, ugly and beautiful, happy and sad – that have made us the people we are today. Pain is called pain because it hurts. But it’s necessary. Without it we would never learn and never grow. And we all want to grow and improve ourselves, right? We all want to become the ‘best version of us’?

Avoiding Anachronisms

An important first step towards embracing our past selves is forgiveness and acceptance. To acknowledge that we did the best we could to look after ourselves and others with the resources, wisdom and understanding that we had available to us at the time. We wouldn’t say to sixteenth-century Anne Bolyn, second wife of King Henry VIII, ‘Get a grip, girl! Why don’t you just tell Henry that you’re quite attached to your head and you’d like to keep it, thanks very much. And then you could get a job in IT and rent a nice little highrise apartment in London.’. Sounds ridiculous? Yep. Just as ridiculous as judging the sixteen, eighteen, twenty or thirty year old you by what you now know. Because, if you’re anything like me, back then you probably didn’t know much. At all. I thought Duran Duran would go on forever. Never heard of them? Precisely.

Staying Right Here – Warts and All

So, in hindsight, I think I might give the whole time travel thing a miss. I guess I’ll have to dismantle that nearly-completed brilliant contraption that I’ve been building in my basement (who am I kidding? I’m flat out opening a milk carton). Because as much as thinking about my mistakes of the past causes me embarrassment, I wouldn’t give up those lessons and experiences for all the world. As Keats says, Ay, in the very temple of Delight / Veil’d Melancholy has her sovran shrine. That is, we have to allow ourselves to feel sorrow so that we can recognise joy. Which is important because Joy gets really pissed off when you don’t recognise her.

Show and Tell

We have all made mistakes. We are all imperfect. But, if we are brave, we are all improving, growing and learning. What would you do if you found a time-machine in your basement? Or if Marty McFly turned up at your house with the DeLorean? Would you go back in time? If not, why not? If so, what would you change? Please tell.

CJ xox

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Today is the day of the week when I start the conversation and you guys finish it. Even though it’s not Thursday (our normal day). It’s the day when I leave the cyber-classroom and ask you to share an idea, insight, story, personal experience… or maybe the whole lot. I’ll start the engine but you need to keep the wheels turning. Today’s discussion about communication and conversation is relevant to every single one of us, so I’m looking forward to your input. As I always say, there’s no right or wrong here, only a respectful exchange of ideas and philosophies. If you’ve never commented before, then today I’m sending you a personal invitation to make your debut here at me-dot-com… we’re a friendly bunch.

Food for My Body… and My Blog

As many of you know, my frequent trips to the supermarket often prove to be valuable and productive beyond the realm of merely acquiring the necessities for my fridge and pantry. That is, stomach. Invariably, I also find some food for my blog. Wherever there are people, there are stories and lessons. Today was no exception. Living in the same house on the same busy street for fifteen years means that it’s almost impossible for me to walk to the market without bumping into at least one or two people I know; which regularly turns my twenty minute shopping spree into a one hour adventure. Or saga; depending on who I happen to run in to.

The Pseudo-Conversation

Today I bumped into a bloke who I haven’t seen for years. It’s fair to say we’re not really friends; more acquaintances who have mutual friends. After enduring a gruelling ten minute monologue which was essentially a self-indulgent showcase of his enormous ego, he asked me his first and only question: “What have you been up to”? I knew he didn’t care but I chose to be polite and respond anyway. The moment I started to answer his question he began looking over my shoulder at something or someone who was clearly more interesting than me and my answer. It was as if the sound of my voice was a signal for him to dis-engage. He did not hear one word I said. He was completely disinterested. Realising I was wasting my time and breath, I stopped talking mid-sentence and just looked at him. The silence became apparent to him and as if programmed on some kind of auto-pilot, he came out with “wow, that’s great”.

You Said What?

“What’s great?”, I enquired. He looked uncomfortable. Of course he did; he had no idea what I was talking about or what was supposedly great. I could have made it easy for him. I chose not to. Natch. “What’s great” I asked again. I just looked at him and waited for my answer. The one he didn’t have.

Nasty? No.
Warranted? Yep.
Enjoyable? What do you think?

But Will He Learn?

I gladly let him squirm for fifteen seconds (or so) but decided against giving him the ten-minute lesson in effective communication, good manners and not being a dickhead. I then excused myself from the conversation and headed into the supermarket to stock up on peanut butter and cheesecake fruit and vegetables. He knew I thought he was a tool. I told him without actually telling him. Will he learn from his experience? Probably not; he didn’t really strike me as the student type. Apart from the fact that he spoke about himself the whole time, didn’t listen to a word I said, didn’t maintain eye contact (when I spoke) and then pretended to be fascinated by what he hadn’t heard… he was an amazing communicator.

And You?

Do you ever bump into such people? Perhaps you work with them? Or worse still, live with them?  Good grief; imagine that.

Your Turn to Share…

1. So what are the conversation killers for you?
2. What do you do when you find yourself in a situation similar to the one described above?
3. What’s your “escape” strategy?
4. Do you think I should have been more (or perhaps less) tolerant?
5. Should we tell people when they’re being rude?
6. What’s the one thing that drives you nuts!?
7. A (brief) personal story?

Love to hear your thoughts.  

xx

P.S. Don’t forget that I’ll be in Brisbane on the 22nd of this month (three Sundays away) to help you Queenslanders create (and keep) your best body with my Renovate Your Body Workshop. Among other things, I’ll tell you why most people fail – and how to be the exception. Love to see you there.

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Hi Guys. Hope your weekend was fun because that’s what you made it. Today’s post probably throws up more questions than it gives answers or direction. However, it will amuse, stimulate, possibly offend and definitely generate some interesting conversation about a fascinating, relevant and personal topic.  

Put up Your Hand if You Ever Lie?

If your hand went up, then we now know you’re a liar. If it didn’t go up then we know you’re an even bigger liar.   

When asked the question “are you a liar?” nearly 97% of people answer “no”. When the remaining 3% (self-confessed liars) are subjected to questions calibrating their real, rather than perceived honesty, they turn out to be, on average, 28 times more honest than the people who claimed they never lie. One of the most prolific liars in history was US president Richard Nixon, who researchers found to have lied on record 837 times on a single day. *WikiAnswers

Geeze, that’s a lot of fibbing.

Why the Interest in Lying?

As you know, I’m a student of human behaviour; what we do, when we do it, how we do it and why we do it. In the field of behavioural psychology there aren’t too many things that interest me more than the subject of dishonesty. Or is it honesty? Anyway, I’m referring to the propensity we humans have to lie. All humans. In my job I listen to (and look at) a lot of people. Since 1987 I have personally completed over 40,000 one on one, face to face sessions. Close proximity. I get to see the pupils dilate and constrict. The nervous rash appearing on the neck. The facial ticks arise. The postural change. The awkward fidgeting. I notice the change in the pitch of the voice. And the increase in respiration. The lack of eye contact. The shift in emotional state. The defensive body language. The contradictions in their story. The anger. The denial. And often, the tears. Hence, my very absorbent clothing.

Listen to What They’re Not Saying

How can we listen to someone who isn’t speaking? Easy. Use our other senses; they will tell us what our ears can’t. We know that communication is about seven percent verbal so it’s only logical to conclude that we will learn more about people (what they think, feel, believe, expect, fear, know, have done) by watching them, than we would by listening to them. Not to say we shouldn’t listen, of course. I’m always more fascinated with what people don’t say because by saying nothing (about a certain matter) they are saying something. People are “speaking” all the time; we just need to learn their language. Pet owners will understand this concept. Once we understand that the verbal stuff is only a minor part of communication and human interaction, our relationships and reality change and our awareness shifts dramatically. If you can’t be bothered researching (and who can?) just watch an episode or three of Lie To Me. Even though it’s ‘only’ a TV show, there’s some pretty cool science and research behind it all. In other words; the truth about liars.

How Often we Fib

The average person lies 114 times every day of their life. So if you live to be eighty, you’re gonna tell somewhere around 3.3 million fibs over the course of your lifetime. Wowzer!! Can you believe that?

Don’t. I made it up. See how easy that was?

The Truth About Lies

Of course, it’s virtually impossible to acquire accurate and broadly representative statistics regarding how many times the average person lies each day – being as we’re so predisposed to… well, lying. And anyway, who’s gonna keep count? Nobody wants to be seen as a pathological liar – or any kind of liar - so even when it comes to research, we’ll continue to lie about our lying. After all, who’s gonna be honest about their dishonesty? And there-in lies (pun intended) the challenge; in order to gain reliable data we need to rely on people’s honesty. There’s some irony for you. Take a peek at the following report from the University of Massachusetts:

 AMHERST, Mass. – Most people lie in everyday conversation when they are trying to appear likable and competent, according to a study conducted by University of Massachusetts psychologist Robert S. Feldman and published in the most recent Journal of Basic and Applied Social Psychology. The study, published in the journal’s June issue, found that 60 percent of people lied at least once during a 10-minute conversation and told an average of two to three lies. “People tell a considerable number of lies in everyday conversation. It was a very surprising result. We didn’t expect lying to be such a common part of daily life,” Feldman said. The study also found that lies told by men and women differ in content, though not in quantity. Feldman said the results showed that men do not lie more than women or vice versa, but that men and women lie in different ways. “Women were more likely to lie to make the person they were talking to feel good, while men lied most often to make themselves look better,” Feldman said.

What? Men lie to impress people! I find that hard to believe. BTW, have I told you how much I’m bench pressing lately?

Some Common Fibs

Lie: Yep, I’m on my way now.
Truth: I’ll leave in ten minutes. Or twenty.
Lie: No, your arse is tiny.
Truth: You look like a f**king yak from back here.
Lie: If you don’t go to sleep, Santa won’t come next week.
Truth: He’ll come (won’t he?).
Lie: The dog ate my homework.
Truth: There ain’t no homework. Or dog.
Lie: Yep, this assignment is all my work.
Truth: I am the cut and paste king.
Lie: I was working late.
Truth: I’m a Dirtbag.
Lie: No, I’m busy tonight.
Truth: I don’t like you.
Lie: I’ll get back to you.
Truth: I’ll never contact you.
Lie: Yep, I’ve nearly finished.
Truth: I haven’t started.
Lie: I’m really careful with my food.
Truth: Careful not to let others see how much I eat.
Lie: No, I’ll be fine (sob).
Truth: Can I have some attention and sympathy?

Lying Etiquette

So now we’ve established that you’re part of the Pants-on-Fire Fraternity…

1. What are your lying rules?
2. When is it okay to lie? (an example?)
3. Is it okay to lie if we have noble intentions?
4. Should we ever lie to our kids? (an example?)
5. They say “the truth will set you free” but perhaps sometimes a strategic lie will save someone a lot of pain – what do you think?
6. What about you more spiritual and/or religious (not always the same thing) folk, what are your thoughts?
7. Is deception (not sharing certain information perhaps) the same as a lie?
8. Have someone else’s lies impacted your reality in a big way?
9. Are you aware of your lying?
10. Surely, it’s okay to lie to your girlfriend about her upcoming ’surprise’ birthday party?

Now, of course I don’t expect you to answer all of the above questions (or any for that matter) but I thought they might be good conversation-starters. Off you go Pinocchio.

And in answer to your question…

Q. Do you ever lie Craig?
A. Only when I’m awake. 

Other than that, never.

xx

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For those of you who missed yesterday’s update on all the news here at me-dot-com, today we are introducing a new team member; CJ. The very lovely and talented CJ (yep, a girl) will not be replacing me but rather writing on (some of) the days that I am away from the blogosphere. She will write two to four posts each month. She is not a “female version” of me; nor is she meant to be. Thankfully. Imagine that. No, she’s more of a opinion and experience-sharer, a seeker, an asker of questions and a student – just like the rest of us. She’s also a little quirky and cheeky and I dig that. Please make our newbie writer welcome as she finds her feet here in the blogosphere… and I’ll see ya’ll on Monday.

A Quality Education

The other night I had a lovely chat with a dear old friend of mine, Daniel. We used to sit together in Year Ten English at Apathy and Underachievement High – a very ordinary school in a very ordinary suburb in the late 1980s (ok, mid 1980s). And before you dislocate your brain doing mathematical gymnastics, that makes me almost forty. However, please allow me to milk my thirties for just a moment or two more.

Who Does He Think He Is?

Daniel left school at the end of Year Ten with a dream to be involved in film and television. He wanted to write, act, direct, produce – anything and everything. Of course, his dream was met with ill-concealed derision. A sad part of the Australian culture is the obligation some people feel to cut others down to size – a paralysing social practice known as the Tall Poppy Syndrome here in the Land Down-Under. We wouldn’t want anyone to have ‘tickets on themselves’ or become ‘too big for their britches’ now would we?

Never Give Up

Thankfully, Daniel didn’t listen to the wet blankets and in 2007 he released his first feature film West which premiered at the prestigious Berlin Film Festival and has now been released on DVD. It took him just over twenty years to achieve his dream – there’s a lesson in perseverance. Yes, he’s talented but he also didn’t give up when everyone told him to ‘get a real job’. He is now just about to wrap up his next short film for Tropfest (the World’s Largest Short Film Festival).

Seize the Day – Tomorrow!

One of the most interesting points to emerge from our conversation was the idea that ‘The Grass is Always Greener’. Daniel and I were talking about procrastination (Exhibit A, right here) – how we often put off the tasks that scare us or bore us, while we do other tasks that we enjoy more. Mr. Harper might call that doing what we want to do versus doing what we need to do. It doesn’t necessarily mean that we’re sitting on the couch stuffing our faces with chocolate whilst watching The Mentalist – although if anyone can think of a better combination than Simon Baker and chocolate, let me know. Phwoar. Is it hot in here? No, it just means that sometimes we could be a little more disciplined and grown-up about our priorities. And, yes, from where I’m sitting I can see a pile of work I need to get through by Sunday night. And I’m writing this instead. See what I mean?

Boring is Relative

Daniel told me, by way of example, that when he has to write a script for a major Australian television drama, he often procrastinates because he finds it more interesting to write his own stuff. What? Sorry? Excuse me? How can writing a script for a television series possibly be boring? The plot? The characters? The dialogue? The twists and turns? The dramatic irony? How could that ever be boring? I would give up my first born for an opportunity like that but please don’t tell her; she’s so touchy about those things. Like the time I listed her on Ebay. Talk about an over-reaction! I suppose, though, it’s all a matter of perspective. Even the most exciting job can become pedestrian after a while. The grass always appears greener if you don’t have the right outlook. 

My Dirty Little Big Secret

Which makes me think of my feet. Of course it does. I hate my feet. They’re awful. I’m 5 foot 8 and I wear a size ten shoe (41 in European sizes). They are also very wide and although I enjoy a broad base of support, it makes finding stylish shoes an exercise in frustration and expense. It’s not very sexy. They’re not very sexy. At all. Fortunately my ankles are awesome. I blush with humiliation at the shoe store when I’ve been brave enough to reveal my gargantuan flippers only to be told, ‘we have nothing for you, dear… and please drag those things out of here before you scare the other customers – you freak.’

Foot Envy

Subsequently, I’ve always been jealous of the feet belonging to my best friend from high school, Keri. She is five foot ten (yep, taller than me), very slim and she wears a delicate size seven. Bitch. So not fair. How can she be so tall and have such small feet? I feel like the Big Friendly Giant next to her. She can buy any type of shoe. Oh, the freedom! The shopping! She must be thrilled to have such gorgeous little feet.

She’s not.

They hurt. Like, really hurt.

She told me recently (I’m not sure how it came up; girls talk about strange things) that her feet are simply too small to support her height. She cannot stand for longer than an hour without feeling like she needs a wheelchair. She hates it. She’d give anything to have big, functional flippers like mine which actually do what they were designed to do. See? The grass always appears greener.

Forbidden Fruit

Why do we always want what we don’t have? Is it the very fact that we don’t have something which makes it so compelling and enticing? We all know, perhaps from personal experience, that as soon as we ban a food from our ‘diet’ it suddenly becomes the most desirable, delicious food we can imagine. We start obsessing, ‘Hmm. You know what? I’ve never really fancied tripe on toast before but now that I can’t have it, it’s all I want!’

The Contradictorian

Yep, a word. Now. God, I sound like someone else don’t I? Sorry.

Isn’t it strange how the mind works? If we look at our own lives, the same principle can sometimes apply: When we have security and stability, we yearn for excitement and spontaneity. When we have a home full of people, we crave solitude. When we are alone, we long for someone with whom to share our lives. When we have a lot of responsibility, we want our freedom. When no-one is relying on us, we want to feel more connected, wanted and needed. When we are always busy, we want more time in our day. When we have too much spare time, we look for things to keep us busy.

Or maybe that’s just me.

Making Choices

It’s not as though we can’t have what we want, but clearly we can’t have everything we want at the same time. We need to establish what we really want, make the necessary choices and then find a way to be content with those choices.

For example: 

• If you need financial security, don’t marry a freelance poet; unless you’re a very wealthy heiress, in which case, knock yourself out and marry a well-hung trapeze artist called Julio – if you like.
• If you need lots of unallocated time to avoid feeling overwhelmed, learn to say ‘no’ to some projects, commitments and people. As the chief says, stop being a people pleaser (doormat).
• If you need someone special in your life, sacrifice some of your ‘at home alone and comfy’ time.  Lose your awful I-gave-up-in-1996 t-shirt and track pants, frock-up (or the male equivalent, or maybe not, we don’t judge) and get yourself out there. Mr or Miss ‘All Right’ isn’t going to knock on your door. Really. Unless you live in the same street as George Clooney and you’ve been pinching his mail. Good for you.

Where’s Aunty Sandra?

Someone said to me recently that the challenge is to figure out how to change the things in our lives that we need to change in order to find happiness and fulfilment without sabotaging the things that we love about our lives. Similarly, my grandmother always said, ‘don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater’. 

Years ago, my aunt did just that; she walked out of her life. Literally. On Christmas Day (just after lunch). She picked up her handbag and walked out on two children, fifteen years of marriage, her house, her clothes (clearly she wasn’t thinking straight) and her responsibilities. Just like that. She went off to start a new life and never looked back. Not that I’m a fan of her ‘work’ but obviously she fitted into the ‘change everything at once’ rather than the ‘small, gradual changes’ category.

Our Side of the Fence

Thankfully, in order to build amazing lives and find happiness and fulfilment, the changes don’t have to be as dramatic as we might initially imagine. Again, it’s a case of taking the time to figure it out. For ourselves. No magic pill. Damn. Like most aspects of life, there isn’t a one-size-fits-all solution that we can grab off the rack. Each of us has to tailor our own strategy to fit our individual situation and aspirations. We can look wistfully over the fence at ‘greener pastures’, wishing and dreaming of what could be, only to eventually discover that it wasn’t all that we had imagined. Or, we can make our best efforts to incorporate all the elements we need for a happy, amazing life on our side of the fence.

Could it be Me?

This isn’t to say that we will never need to make major changes. Perhaps we will ultimately come to the conclusion that we need to change our job, career, partner, house, circle of friends, relationships with family members or another aspect of our reality. Hopefully not all at once. But we need to recognise that unless we also change (our outlook, our mindset, our reactions), climbing over the fence will give us nothing but splinters where we don’t want them. But then, do we ever want splinters? Good point.

Seeing What Was Always There

Of course the grass isn’t always greener on the other side of the fence. We just choose to see it that way. Just like Sally O’Brien of the lop-sided breasts fame, sometimes the only thing that needs to change in order to find happiness is our perception. Sally’s side of the fence had always been fertile ground for contentment; she just needed to recognise it. As the big unit always says (he with his head on the home page), is it the situation that needs to change or is it me in that situation? Surely I don’t need to change? Okay, perhaps it’s a little of both.

Show and Tell

Have you ever climbed over a fence only to discover that the grass was exactly the same on the other side? Or maybe worse still, it was mud? Feel free to share your ideas and thoughts, perhaps you can enlighten me. Thanks for letting me be the new kid on the block here at him-dot-com. I think I’m going to like it here. I’ve heard that you guys are really friendly whenever anyone has to get up in front of the class. I know I don’t have the big guns and shaved head but I’ll do my very best.

CJ xox

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Some Renovate Your Body (RYB) Brisbane News

As you know, the Bald Man and I (and a few others) are heading to Brisbane on the 22nd of November to conduct a one-day RYB workshop at Rydges. When we announced the $195.00 program we also announced that anyone who booked and paid in full within the first seven days would receive a thirty percent discount. That ‘deal’ ended last Wednesday. However, since that time we have received more than twenty emails from people who are desperate to attend but were hoping to get the discount – due to their current financial situation.

While we have these types of requests periodically, we’ve never had so many in such a short space of time. Giving these people the discounted price following the cut-off date only presented one major problem for us; the folk who have since enrolled and paid the full price ($195.00). So… in order to be fair and transparent we have made two decisions for this program only:  (1) We will keep all ticket prices to the discounted price ($136.00) and (2) The people who have paid the full price since last Wednesday (fifteen of you) will be refunded the difference. We hope that this makes it easier for some of you to get along.

A Brisbane Meet-Up

Johnnie and I will be jetting into the thriving metropolis of Brisbane on the Saturday night before RYB (Nov. 21) and being as we get bored easily and can’t be trusted on our own, we thought we’d organise a meet-up for anyone who wants to hang out with us for an hour or two, consume a (hot) beverage or six, share some laughs and possibly inhale some type of decadent cake. This invite is open to all me-dot-com readers; not just those going to the workshop the following day. Now, you Scaredy Cats who are already trying to figure out why you can’t attend, why don’t you get uncomfortable, do something different, get out of your box, come along and meet some cool people? And me. If worst comes to worst, you and I can eat our own bodyweight in cake. We will meet in the foyer of Rydges at 9.00 pm (Cnr. Grey and Glenelg streets, Southbank, Brisbane). Put it in your diary!

A New Addition to the Team

One of the challenges of creating, growing and maintaining a high quality free personal development resource such as this one is the sheer volume of hours that go into taking an article from an idea in my head to a published work on this site. That includes coming up with an overall concept, planning the article, writing, proof reading, title, finding the right pictures and editing. For example, yesterday’s post is around two and a half thousand words in length and the finished product took me more than ten hours to complete. Over the last few months it has become apparent that I need to be more structured with how and when I post articles here at me-dot-com. Apparently exhaustion is a bad thing. Who knew? Being as I can’t inspire or educate anyone if I’m dead, I’ve decided to back off a teensy-weensy bit with my writing workload and give myself a little breathing room. I have decided that I will (typically) post three times per week here at me-dot-com and see how that goes. Now, rather than having too many days with nothing to stimulate your brain, I have decided that on some of my ‘off days’ I will invite a few of my very clever friends to share a lesson or laugh with you. Hopefully both. They will be my guest writers and will be part of our team. I have already enlisted the services of one of my friends and she will be here to share with you tomorrow. Her name is ‘CJ’ and she is a very clever, talented and creative girl with a gift for writing. Her role here will be less about motivation, inspiration and education and more about asking questions, telling stories, being provocative and stimulating conversation. I know we’re all a little resistant to change but I want you to make my friend welcome. You were the new kid once right?

Mother Mary

As most of you know, my mum had a recent battle with bowel cancer and she is now doing great. When I shared her story here, the lovely Mary was inundated with cards, letters, emails, flowers and gifts from awesome people (you) all over the globe. So cool. Some of the letters were incredibly beautiful and moved the ‘Old Darl’ to tears. Anyhoozle, being as she’s not much of a computer geek she has asked me to share a brief message with you (handed to me on a piece of paper).

Hi Everyone. I would like to thank you all for your beautiful cards, flowers, gifts and well-wishes. I am sure your care and support helped in my recovery and it certainly made me feel very special. Thanks again, it was appreciated so much.   Mary Harper

Loretta Competes at the Olympia

As many of you know, the very lovely Loretta Watson is a RYL graduate and regular here at me-dot-com. She’s also one of the best figure competitors in the country, an inspiration to many of you and this year we’ve been keeping an eye on her competitive progress. As some of you know, she recently won the Miss Victoria and came second in the Miss Australia competition. Those results earned her a ticket to the Natural Miss Olympia Competition; the biggest competition of its kind on the planet. Two weekends ago, competing against twenty of the best bodies from all over the world, Loretta came in fourth; missing out on third place by one (lousy) point! Congratulations Watto. And yes, that’s her pictured above on stage at the Olympia (back to camera).

T-Shirts

I keep forgetting to give away some me-dot-com shirts for your teaching and mentoring efforts last week with our “I Give Up (Almost)” post. That was an amazing response and I for one, learned plenty. Thanks. I want to send a token of appreciation to Darby O’Connor, Kate and Adrijana. If you guys can email Johnnie your postal details and shirt size, we’ll send you your very own craigharper.com.au Tee.

Enjoy your Thursday xx

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Continuing on with Monday’s discussion on happiness; an instalment for those who enjoy a good story (it’s kinda long so you may wanna get comfortable)…

An Average Life

Her alarm clock wails and she rolls over. Without even opening an eye, she slaps the clock into silence. Her aim is surprisingly accurate for a semi-conscious woman with her eyes shut. ”F**ken noise pollution” she says out loud… to nobody. Some time later she half opens one eye and peers at the illuminated digital numbers. It’s five minutes past late. She launches another expletive into the atmosphere and reluctantly forces her tired body into an upright position. Well, almost upright. For some reason, life has become a chore for Sal.

Although nothing’s really wrong, nothing is great either. Her life feels like an endless procession of average. Average jobs. Average relationships. Average conversations. Average experiences. Average days. Average everything. And while she has (what most people would consider) a good job, good health, no real financial issues, no major problems and people who love her, happiness seems to avoid her. Or perhaps, she avoids it.

An Average Body

Did I mention that she hates her footballer’s thighs? And her stupidly wide shoulders? And don’t get her started on her left breast; it’s a whole centimetre lower than the right one. It’s fair to say that happiness isn’t the emotion that comes to the fore when Sal thinks or speaks about her body.

How to Lose a Friend in One Sentence

Of course she has known happiness, but for the last few years her typical emotional state has hovered somewhere between miserable, grumpy and I-don’t-really-care. While she has the occasional laugh with friends, there is an ever-present awareness of her less-than-exciting existence. “Yeah, that’s what I do; exist. I don’t live, I simply survive the days” she tells a long-suffering and very tolerant friend. Apparently her loving parents do nothing but annoy her. They don’t really understand her. Poor baby. It seems that life hasn’t ‘turned out’ as it should have for Sal. One friend recently told her that she plays the role of victim very well. She’s now an ex-friend.

Natch.

The Annual Health Check

This morning Sal is even grumpier than normal because today she has her compulsory annual health check; a requirement of the company she works for. She hates these days. Two hours of walking on a treadmill, filling out forms, answering stupid questions, painful blood-extraction and far too much poking and prodding by a doctor who invariably has breath like a yak and the people skills of a plant. What then follows is a week of waiting for the results. Yippee.  Every year, for the week following the medical evaluation, she waits for the phone call; the one to tell her she has cancer. After all, it’s only a matter of time.

She figures.

The Call You Don’t Want

A week later Sal is at her desk when she does get a call. “We need you to come in for a chat today”, the serious voice on the other end of the phone informs her. “Er, what about?” comes the nervous reply. The woman ignores the question and enquires about a suitable appointment time. “Er, okay, five o’clock.” She puts down the phone and sits there in disbelief. Numb. Her mind races. A colleague asks her a question, she doesn’t even hear, let alone reply. She stares at her computer screen but sees nothing because she’s a million miles away. A teeny, tiny, quiet voice from somewhere deep whispers “don’t worry, it’ll be something simple; you’re over-reacting”. “You wish” replies a much louder and more assertive voice. Her stomach churns. Her neck and chest are now red and splotchy; her typical stress response. She looks at the clock. It’s 3:15.

Anxiety in the Waiting Room 

She arrives at the clinic fifteen minutes early. It’s been the longest ninety minutes of her life. She walks to the reception desk and gives her name. She studies the face of the woman at the desk. Perhaps she knows something. The woman is efficient and confident. Not what Sal was looking for. Perhaps a warm smile and some pointless chat about the weather might have done the trick. She sits and waits. And waits. Are doctors ever on time? Especially towards the end of the day?

Finally the doctor makes an appearance and calls her in to his office. He tries to smile. It looks strained. Fake even. Her knees buckle a little. She makes it to his room and falls into a chair. With eyes wide open she says nothing. She can literally feel her heart beating in her neck. She’s never felt that. After what seems like an eternity, the doctor opens his mouth.

“Now Sally, unfortunately it appears that…”

A Fancy Name for Death

That’s all she needs to hear. Her fears are confirmed. The doctor called it T-Cell Prolymphocytic Leukemia; a rare and aggressive form of leukemia. He may as well have saved them both some time and called it was it is; death with a fancy label. “We’re not sure how advanced it is, but at this point, it doesn’t look too promising.” He rambles on with some facts and figures but the patient absorbs nothing after the bit about… cancer. She is told she will need to see an oncologist to create an appropriate treatment plan. An appointment is made for the Friday of that week; it’s now Monday.

The Response

By six-thirty she is at home sitting on the end of her bed staring out the window of her room. Two hours later she is in the same place doing the same thing; sitting and staring. And trying not to think or feel. It doesn’t work. She still has her car keys in her hand. She has been holding them for two hours. It hasn’t occurred to her to put them on the dresser. While her body has all but shut down, her mind is in over-drive. To her own surprise, her ever-present self-pity is strangely absent. It has been replaced with paralysing fear and anxiety. The tears fall from her face like leaves from an autumn tree and her once-perfect make-up now resembles that of a goth after an all night bender. 

All of a sudden her old ’average’ life looks pretty attractive. Highly desirable perhaps.

I’m on My Way…

The phone has been ringing incessantly. She’s meant to be at a dinner with friends. One of her girlfriends is trying to line her up with Mr Right. Yet again. She finally picks up the phone and shares the news with her best friend; the first person she’s told. There is stunned silence. “I’ll be there in ten minutes”, click.

Planet Numb

The next three days are a blur of thoughts, emotions, reactions and pointless you’ll-be-okay conversations with well-meaning, but ultimately, annoying people. It’s now Thursday – the day before her appointment with the cancer bloke - and if numbness is a place, then right now she a resident of Planet Numb. She has taken leave from work, knowing full well she’ll probably never return. To any job. While her mother is a pillar of strength and the poster girl for optimism, her dad can’t even look at her without bawling. Just what she needs; a crying father in the room. She has spent most of the week researching her disease. No eating, very little sleeping and no happiness. Understandably. When she does sleep, the nightmares are horrifying. The more she researches, the more inevitable seems her demise.

At just before eleven o’clock, the phone rings. She ignores it. Her mother doesn’t.

“Sal, it’s for you”.
“I told you; I don’t want to talk to anyone.”
“It’s the clinic, they say it’s very important.”
“F**k”.
“Sally Anne O’Brien, wash your mouth.”
“Sorry Mum.”

Once again, it’s the cyborg from reception; she of the no personality brigade.

“Hello?”
“Hello Miss O’Brien, it’s Margaret from the clinic. Dr. Charles would like to see you as soon as possible.”
“Er… why? ”
“How’s three o’clock?”
“Fine.”

As always, Margaret the cyborg gives her nothing. Nothing positive anyway.

She thought she had bottomed out emotionally. Clearly not. The knot in her stomach just doubled in size. She puts the phone down and turns to see her parents both staring at her like passers-by at a five car pile-up. “What do they want?” asks her mother. Of course she has no answer because she doesn’t know. She shrugs her shoulders and walks out the front door without speaking. Her mother tries to follow but the girl with the death sentence waves her away. She walks nowhere in particular for two hours. She crosses several busy intersections and almost becomes a road statistic on more than one occasion. She doesn’t really care. The thought of launching herself under a passing truck seems almost appealing. She arrives home to the relief of her increasingly concerned mother. Thankfully, her blubbering father is nowhere to be seen.

Meanwhile… Back at the Clinic

It’s now three-thirty and Sal has been sitting in the waiting room for forty-five minutes. She has thumbed through most of the three year-old magazines without really paying attention to what was on any of the pages. Simulated reading is better than a breakdown in front of strangers, she figures. Finally the bloke in the white coat appears.

“Sally?”

“Why does he sound like he’s asking a question?”, she wonders. “On Monday he told me I’m going to die; surely I’m not that forgettable?”

He motions her into his consulting room and she looks for a sign. Of something. Anything. Good or bad. He doesn’t smile. But he doesn’t frown either. “He could be a professional f**ckin’ poker player”, she thinks to herself. She waits for his first words. The heartbeat in her neck is back. Fab.

He opens a folder with her name on it. He looks awkward. But that’s no biggie; he does awkward very well. The neck pulse is now pounding like a tribal drum. Two drums. For a moment the doc appears to be reading from the folder. He’s not; he’s collecting his thoughts. He looks up with a facial expression that can be best be described as uncomfortable.

“Now Sally…. ”

He pauses and seems momentarily lost for words. 

“Yes?” she replies like a terrified child in the principal’s office.
 ”I have some news.”
“Yes” she says again; fast losing her patience.
“It seems that we have… er… that is, there may have… no, there was… a.. ”
“Was a f**cking what?!”
“Er, a mistake…”
“What do you mean, mistake?”
“In all my years I’ve never seen anything like it… ”
“Like what?”
“Two women with the same name having the same tests in the same clinic on the same day.”

She thinks she knows what he’s saying but she doesn’t want to assume anything. For the first time in a long time she feels a hint of hope, excitement and you guessed it… happiness. Mixed with some doubt and apprehension, of course. She’s too scared to ask anything specific, so she simply waits for Captain Awkward to continue.

“So Sally, on behalf of the clinic it’s my job to apologise for putting you through four days of unnecessary anxiety and stress. Despite what we told you on Monday, you are actually cancer free.”

Only later will she appreciate the irony that the most incredible words she will ever hear came from the mouth of someone who is so socially… challenged.

Stunned silence.

“No?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“Very.”
“Completely?”
“One hundred percent.”

Tears.

Into the Light

After a forgettable conversation about the potential legal ramifications of their mistake, Sal walks out of the clinic and it is as though she is stepping from darkness into light. Pure light. Pure joy.  There is no fear. No anxiety. Only calm. It’s a brand new experience for her. Once again she is numb but this time it’s a different kind of numb. Every cell in her body is swimming in a pool of pure happiness. It is the most intense feeling she has ever experienced and it is the most beautiful place she’s ever been. She doesn’t want it to end. She didn’t know this kind of happiness was possible – for her anyway. She’s not sure about God but she thanks Him anyway. Or is it Her? She thanks them both. Apart from being totally immersed in happiness, her overwhelming emotion is gratitude. She walks to a nearby park and sits under a tree. She wants to be alone for a little longer. For some reason, she knows her life will never be the same. She will never be the same. Something has happened. Something unplanned. Something big. And while she could be angry at the clinic for its ineptitude, she’s not. She’s incredibly grateful.

A Different World

Sitting there on the grass, she looks down at her footballer’s thighs and for the first time, she loves them. She loves her big, strong, healthy legs and her stupidly wide shoulders. She even loves her lopsided breasts. “At least they’re real”, she tells herself. She thinks of her mum and dad and she smiles. She can’t wait to kiss and hug them; something she hasn’t done for years. She thinks of her long-suffering friends who have tolerated her moods and moments for far too long and she can’t wait to tell them how much she loves and values them.

All of a sudden the world looks very, very different.

In less than a week the miserable girl has become happy. And not momentarily distracted from her average life with some good news… but genuinely happy from the inside out. There has been a massive internal shift and while nothing has changed in her physical, practical, three-dimensional world, everything has changed - for her. What was average is now incredible. Good or bad, hard or easy, average or incredible is all a matter of perspective, attitude and belief. The girl with the same job, the same family, the same body, the same income, the same bank balance and the same ability is now happier than she could ever have imagined. It’s all the same, yet totally different.

Her life was never the problem. She was the problem and when she changed, so too did her reality.

Now, I know what you’re wondering: (1) did the change last? and (2) is this a true story?

Yep and not telling.

xx

As always, love to hear your thoughts on this post…

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A Quick Survey

Before we get under way with today’s briefer-than-normal chat, I want to conduct a little research on the run. Put up your hand if happiness is one of your aims in life. And no, participation is not optional at me-dot-com today. Yep, even you Scaredy Cats. Okay, keep ‘em up so I can count… 1001, 1002, 1003… yep; that’s all of you. Guessed as much. So it seems that despite the fact that we’re all different people, in different situations, inhabiting different parts of the globe… we have one common goal; happiness.

Who’da thought?

But do we Need a Happiness Plan?

We create plans to build wealth. And plans to lose weight. Plans for our dream home. Future plans. Travel plans. We plan the academic path that will lead to our ideal career. Or so we think. We plan our wedding (well, some do). Our marriage. Our family (2.3 kids and a Golden Retriever). It seems we have a plan for pretty much anything that’s remotely important in our lives, so why wouldn’t we have a plan for the thing which drives us all; a desire to be happy? Perhaps we think we’ll find it in all our other plans? That is, happiness will be the net result of all the other.. stuff.

Blaah Central

So if happiness is such a universal pursuit, why does it prove to be so elusive to so many? Dare I say, the majority? Perhaps not in your (personal) world, but step back a little and take a peek beyond your fence. Take a look around. And not a cursory glance, a proper look. Examine the faces, the body language, the posture. Listen to the conversations, the words, the tone. So much of it reeks of… blaah. So much of it seems to be devoid of happiness.

Why the Long Face?

Walk around your city and look people in the eye (don’t get beaten up in the process) and what do you see most? Fear? Uncertainty? Stress? Self-doubt? Frustration? Apathy? If you had to label it, what would you say the dominant emotion is these days? Would it be closer to the positive or negative end of the emotional scale? To be honest, I’m not seeing a whole lot of joy out there lately. Why all the long faces? Why all the busy therapists? Why all the affairs? And body-modifying surgery? And substance abuse? And other addictions? And why all the accumulation of stuff we don’t need with money we don’t have?

Could it be that when it comes to the universal goal, we’re missing something crucial? Something massive perhaps? Like the whole point? Could it be we’re looking where happiness ain’t? Perhaps we’re chasing the wrong things? Perhaps we shouldn’t chase at all?

“Could it be that happiness is not to be found in the chasing but rather, in the choosing?”

The Accumulation Lie

Maybe happiness doesn’t live in places or things? Maybe our happiness methodology and mentality is all wrong? Could it be that we don’t really understand it? Or maybe we don’t recognise it because we’re not sure what it looks like. Perhaps we already have it and don’t know? Perhaps we unknowingly and unintentionally make happiness an impossibility? Perhaps that’s it over there; hiding behind our insecurity, fear and self-doubt? Maybe it’s in the second drawer underneath all our issues? Perhaps it’s obscured by the crap. The cerebral crap. The emotional crap. The human crap. The crap we hold on to. The crap we believe. Perhaps we don’t see it because, like the masses, we have somehow bought into the lie of the ego; the accumulation lie. The when we get enough stuff we’ll be happy paradigm. You know the one. And if we’re not happy, it’s obviously because we need more stuff. Or new stuff. Or different stuff. Or best of all; stuff nobody else has.

Bingo.

Perhaps happiness is not to be found in the chasing, the acquiring, the accumulating or even the planning; perhaps we’ll find it in the letting go. That’s where I find it.

Love to hear your thoughts on happiness. It’s such a universally relevant issue; it might make for some interesting group discussion. Feel free to be as deep, philosophical and/or spiritual as you like. What has your journey taught you? What do you have to teach the rest of us? Could we (the collective mindset) possibly have it wrong? Has your thinking (about happiness) changed over time? If so, how? What have you had to un-learn along the way? Can happiness be a permanent state or will it always be transient? Is happiness a matter of perspective? Is it different things for different people? Is happiness.. joy? Is it contentment? Is it the absence of fear? Or perhaps the absence of pain? What do you think?

As always, we’re not about “right or wrong” here at me-dot-com, we’re all about the respectful sharing of ideas, lessons and experiences. And yes, we’d love to hear from you Newbies and Lurkers too. We don’t bite .

xx 

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Before We Get Under Way with Today’s Post…

Well, what can I say about the overwhelming response to yesterday’s post other than… WOWZER!?

Sometimes words are meaningless and over-used, and I guess it’s easy to wheel out the feel-good jargon and have something of a love-fest when we’re in a personal development ’setting’ such as this, but in the three (and a bit) years that me-dot-com has inhabited the blogosphere, we have never had such a genuine heart-felt response to anything on this site as we did to that cry for help. Clearly, I should write less and let you write more . It seems that many (many, many) people have (or have had) similar challenges and struggles. As a result, I have decided that next week we will explore the notion of worthiness in greater detail. In truth, there are many people who have never felt good enough, smart enough, pretty enough or deserving of genuine happiness; no matter how many books they read, workshops they attend or times they get told (how great they are). Yep, for many people the theory of transformation is much easier than the practical reality.

A big thanks to each person who took the time and effort to comment and offer encouragement yesterday. You rock. I’ll let you know who has a T-shirt coming their way on Monday. And to all you newbies, please keep contributing; it makes for a much better learning environment . Okay, on with a little not-too-serious instalment…

Ten Cool Things to Do

Today’s post is not so much a deep, life-changing personal development gem or literary masterpiece (like I ever produce those), as it is a few ideas, a bit of fun, some random suggestions and an invitation for you to join in the conversation by adding to my list (at the end). So, here are my ten cool – potentially life-enhancing - things to do…

1. Laugh like a kid. Find your way back to laughter. It seems that many grown-ups are simply too grumpy, boring, serious or evolved (dysfunctional) to partake in any regular – my head is purple and I may have just farted – (type) laughter. What a pity. I’ve known people for years (and years) who I’ve never seen laugh once. Shit that’s tragic. Especially when people like my friend Michelle (the one who’s dealing with her eighth form of cancer) can find a way to laugh a hundred times a day. A life devoid of fun and laughter ain’t much of an existence.

2. Spend a day without saying one negative thing about anything or anyone. Nothing. Nada, Zilch. Zippo. Not a thing. And don’t tell people what you’re doing. Don’t look for accolades, acknowledgement or approval. Once you’ve mastered a day, try a week. Then maybe you can build up to a lifetime. Hmm, just a thought.

3. Do something that scares you. Not to be mistaken with doing something stupid. Being chronically safe is a great way to learn nothing and spend your life in a holding pattern.

4. Get some muscle. Random I know. My mum is seventy (in a few months) and lifts weights four days a week (even post cancer surgery). She’s a total bad arse. She is stronger than most forty years olds, enjoys the social component of the gym, her posture is amazing, her bone density is way better than most fifty year-olds and the muscle she has built helps her stay lean. Giddyup Mary. Now, where are my dumbbells…

5. Get some crayons and draw a picture. How much fun is drawing with crayons when you’re not worried about what people think? Plenty. One of the things I (often) ask people to do on my two-day program is to draw themselves, on their best day, in their favourite outfit. We give them the paper and crayons, stand back and watch the squirming begin. Especially the blokes. Apparently men are too cool (self conscious) for such activities. Obviously the artistic quality of the final picture is not the point. At all. The point is the process. The point is doing something creative. Spontaneous. The point is to stop being adult(ish) for ten minutes, to stop frickin’ over-thinking such a simple and fun task and to immerse yourself in the moment and the experience.  Use lots of colours in your picture and when you’re finished, write your name on the bottom and put your age next to your name in brackets. Just like you did at school. Feel free to lie about your age. Then stick it on the fridge. Or better still, the wall of your office. Dare you.

6. Video yourself. Film a five to ten minute video of you talking about your (current) life reality. Talk about your core beliefs, values, hopes, dreams, fears, expectations, career, feelings and goals for the future. And whatever else floats yer boat. Then… put the video in a draw for five years. Don’t touch it. Then… five years from the day of filming, extract it from your secret hiding place and see how the “you” of 2009 compares with the you of 2014. One way or the other, it’s gonna be an interesting exercise. I recently watched a video of a presentation I gave fourteen years ago. Yep, interesting.

7. Work as a volunteer in a third world country. One of the best things I ever did.

8. Learn to ride a motorbike. Yep, another random suggestion. I know all the mothers will hate this suggestion but please girls, just let me have one moment of irresponsible blokey-ness. Yes I know they’re dangerous but geeze, they’re fun. I’ve had about thirty of them over the years and I bought a new one two weeks ago. I did a cost-benefit analysis and my fun advisor recommended some new wheels and an excess of horsepower as part of my overall happiness strategy. What? You don’t have a fun advisor? Or a happiness strategy? Sad.

9. Consider a new career. If the mere thought of changing careers both terrifies and excites you, you might need a change. Don’t waste your talent, don’t ignore your inner voice and don’t settle. Of course it’s not always an easy, practical, convenient or popular move but don’t let a little terror stop you from pursuing your passion or chasing your dreams. I’m not suggesting that you resign in the next week (or year for that matter) but I am suggesting that – even while you’re in your current job or situation – it doesn’t hurt to dream, to explore, to research, to ask questions and to plan for a future that’s more rewarding, stimulating and enjoyable than your current reality. It’s my observation that far too many people are ’surviving a job’ rather than pursuing their passion.

10. Help someone anonymously. And tell nobody (else) about it either. We know it’s impossible to be selfish and happy so why not invest some generosity, kindness and emotional energy into the lives of others? To give without expecting in return is one of life’s great joys.

10. b. (At no extra cost) Get your self shot out of a cannon. You’ll hate it but I’ll laugh my arse off when you send me the video!

And we know it’s all about Craig.

Feel free to add your own suggestions to my “Ten Cool Things to Do” list. Your additions can be as fun or as serious as you like.

xx

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