I’m reading Eat, Pray, Love for the second time.  Here’s something I can say about Elizabeth Gilbert, the author:  as a writer, she is the real deal.  Her book is extremely entertaining, artfully written (I sometimes reread paragraphs just to experience her cleverness with words again) and, on top of it all, wise.

For those who haven’t read it, here’s a summary:  following an ugly divorce and years of wanting life to be better, Elizabeth Gilbert was in a really dark place.  But she was also in a highly conscious place and ready for some big-time personal growth.  So she spent a year traveling:  four months in Italy (“eat”), four months in India (“pray”) and four months in Indonesia (“love”). 

The heart of the book is the India section, which was also the hardest for me to get the first time around.  Although the author never, ever asks the reader to follow her own spiritual path, the silent invitation is always there.  Because if it worked for her, maybe it will work for the kind of person who is attracted to her memoir. 

Basically, she practiced mindfulness.  Mindfulness means attention.  It means engagement.  When you pursue it to its logical conclusion, mindfulness means engaging in the exact moment you are existing – not contemplating the future, not obsessing over the past. 

And ironically, when you practice mindfulness you shift out of your mind.  Your thoughts – which are assessments, judgments, reactions, memories or plans – are no longer relevant.  Because as soon as you begin to decide what a moment means, you are no longer experiencing it. 

The alternative to mindfulness is not actually existing in the moment – thinking of something else.  Typically we are either thinking of something in the past (i.e. not now), thinking of someone or something else (i.e. not here), or something in the future (i.e. waiting for some time in the future to actually live).   (Hence the name of  Ram Dass’s bestseller of the 60s, Be Here Now.) 

When you practice mindfulness, you try to engage in the moment, and when you notice your mind wandering off to do something else, you take note and get back to what you are doing.  This is what I mean by keeping an eye on my mind. 

This weekend I am doing a lot of keeping an eye on my mind.  I've also been  reading a book called When Fear Falls Away by a woman named Jan Frazier, who happens to live about 30 miles from my Massachusetts house.  She has a great website that is simple and interesting.  She describes the habitrail that she lived on (as we all do) for most of her life:  a life of thinking that by doing one more thing, by accomplishing something else, by changing herself, she would arrive at some kind of ultimate happiness.  And then one day, for reasons she still doesn’t quite understand, she got off and found a different way to live. One that is much, much better.

I would do a disservice to her book and thoughts to try to explain them any further.  So I’ll shift it back to me. 

Here’s what I’ve learned about my mind, given a few days of observation:  boy, it does like to wander.  It plans, it judges, it reviews, it fantasizes, it decides it’s bored, it devises ways to stimulate itself, it fears it might be bored later, it makes lists, it hopes, it agonizes, it gets annoyed at what people say on television, it refocuses and looks on the bright side.  In other words, it’s quite the expert at slipping out of the moment.  And this was all just at the gym while I was trying to do 45 minutes on the elliptical machine. 

On the other hand, with attention to what I'm actually doing it’s possible for me to turn my mind back to the moment I’m in.  Which is strangely relaxing. 

Well, that’s all for this moment. 

The reason all coaches and almost all sane professional people advocate networking is that things happen via relationships. So the more you attend to developing and maintaining your relationships, the more easily you will acquire valuable information and interesting opportunities that help you self-actualize. Here are a few illustrations. I'm calling them "Network Stories" because that sounds marginally more appealing than "Networking Stories."

Story #1: Pro Bono to Paris in 11 Steps

1. Around 2001, my college friend Bennett introduced me to his acquaintance, Peter, an aspiring producer. (For awhile, Peter represented the film rights to our collaboratively written book about a prostitution ring at Harvard, The Student Body.)

2. A couple of years later, upon learning that I had started coaching, Peter referred his own college friend, Richard.

3. I met Richard. For various reasons, I decided to coach him pro-bono. We had lots of sessions 2003 to 2004

4. Soon after I started coaching Richard, a writer named Sarah heard through the grapevine that I was coaching him, and that I was good. Sarah’s friend Marci, a freelancer for The New York Times, was looking for sources for a story about lawyers pursuing other careers. Sarah referred me. (I’ve still never actually spoken with Sarah.)

5. I gave Marci Alboher some good quotes and in the months and years following she and I became good friends. We’ve collaborated on many things over the years, including serving resources for each other in the development of her book, One Person/Multiple Careers, and mine, The Creative Lawyer.

6. When Marci got her gig as the “Shifting Careers” blogger for The New York Times, she asked if I would do some guest pieces. “Sure!”

7. One piece I did at the end of 2007, “Year-End Review – With Yourself” proved to be very popular. It was widely circulated and was one of the most-emailed business posts of the year.

8. In Paris, an American lawyer named Meg read the article at her office. She thought, “This is a good article. This would a good exercise for my husband and me to do.” Then she saw the photo of the author (me) and said, “hey, I know that guy.” Meg and I had worked together at the same law firm in the mid-1990s.

9. Meg had become a big partner at said law firm and at that very minute happened looking for talent to speak at a summer lawyers retreat. She contacted me.

10. I always loved Meg, notwithstanding the fact that I hadn’t spoken to her for more than ten years. Plus, who could say non to Paris? Funds were tight but we quickly worked out a deal.

11. In July 2008 I did a presentation based on my book at the Paris office of my former law firm. It was super-fun and I got to see one of the great cities of the world.

Moral: you just never know what people might lead you to.

Do you know what NaoNoWriMo is?  It's National Novel Writing Month.

During said month, which began November 1, thousands of people from around the world try their hand at writing novels.  The deal is: you write about 1,667 words per day.  After 30 days you have 50,000 words, which is the length of Hemingway's "Old Man and The Sea."   I'm doing it now, for my future smash-hit novel, "Manhattan Husbands."

Three years ago, I did NaoNoWriMo upon the suggestion of Gretchen Rubin, the famous Happiness Project blogger.  Basically I cobbled together the first, extremely sucky draft of The Creative Lawyer during that month. NaNoWriMo is a very Nike-ad kind of process. Instead of pondering what you might one day write, you just do it.

NaNoWriMo is based on the book, No Plot, No Problem.  The basic point is that you just write every day.  The one rule is that you are not allowed to read what you wrote. This prevents you from destroying your creative efforts with your internalized Voice of Judgment – the theoretically wise voice that makes you think that all your writing sucks.

In 2006, I joined NaNoWriMo late, 11 days into it.  Hence I had to write 2,300 words per day (or something like that).  The interesting thing is that even this larger duty still took only about 1 hour per day.  It doesn't take that much effort to write book, but it does take some effort.

So all you would-be novelists and non-fiction writers:  just go for it!  See NaNoWriMo.org for details.

I have a good memory -- but not on everything!  Gretchen Rubin at The Happiness Project has some great tips on remembering people's names.  Click here.  By the way, she is a creative lawyer, too.

    A few months ago, I met another coach.  A mutual friend had introduced us.  She has done well and makes a lot of money.  I know, because I asked her how much she charged and it’s more than I do.  At the end of our breakfast meeting, she said, “It’s been really great meeting you.  You know, _____ had urged me a year ago to connect with you, but I put it off because frankly I found your blog posts insufferable.” 
     “But I now realize that was just my own stuff,” she added.  “Now I realize you’re cool.”
    “Uh, thanks,” I said.  NOT!
    Some people like my blog posts.  And some people don’t. Some people sometimes think I’m not that serious, or kind of a narcissist, or elitist, or new-agey.  I know, because they tell me.
    Here are some things that people have written about me.
    On a post I did for The New York Times Shifting Career blogs, called “A Year in Review – with Yourself,” someone named "Rebecca" said:
    “Drivel.  You get paid for this advice?” 
    Someone named "Get Real" said: 
    “Please.  Some of us have real life to deal with.”
    On a post I did for the American Bar Association Journal, called “5 Tips for Planning Your Career to Beat the Recession,” someone named "Fuzzy" said:
    “What a bunch of feel-good nonsense.” 
    Someone named "Rocco" said:
     “Fuck all these people.”
    On a post I wrote for The Huffington Post called “7 Ways to be Happy in a Smoking Country,” someone named "Bethab" wrote:  
    "I'll take being around a smoker over being around a self-righteous, self-important blowhard.”
     For another post I wrote for The New York Times Shifting Careers blog called,  "A Board of Advisers – For Yourself", someone named "Francis" said:
    “Honestly, this is foolish.” 
    Someone named "T. Anthony" said:
    “This is madness.” 
    Someone named "Charlotte" said:
    “Life Coach = Life Fraud.” 
    And in response to a letter to the editor that I wrote to The New York Times, in which I opined that the recent loss of lawyer jobs might actually help law students make better choices, someone named "Christopher" wrote me a personal email and said:
    "You are a disgrace." 
    It’s also true that, for each of these posts, I also got nice comments. For instance, lots of people said positive, thoughtful things about "Year in Review – With Yourself."  It ended up being one of the most circulated articles of 2007 in the NYT.  Friends said they liked it.  Occasionally I hear from strangers.  I once got a fan letter from Saudi Arabia. 
    Most people who've read what I've written leave no comment at all.  My calculation is that I get about 1 comment for each 1,000 readers. 
    I do want everyone to like me, so it understandably tends to bum me out when people imply that I’m retarded or horrible.  But I do have some perspective on the matter, which is why I keep writing.  The perspective was supplied by my friend Marci Alboher who once said:  “A strong brand may repel as many people as it attracts."
    If I make any kind of impression, it’s not going to please some people.
    If I self-censor, and try to write something that everyone will like, I will just end up with a lifeless-sort-of-nothing-writing   
     When writing, the only thing I can be certain of is what makes sense to me.  Often, this makes sense to other people as well.  But not always.  Those are the risks of the undertaking.
    In writing, you have to write the article that you want to read. There’s no other option. 
    So stay tuned, beeyotches!  (In  my brand, I can use fun words like beeyotch.)
    Mean comments?  Bring ‘em on.  Although I welcome nice ones, too. 

    I don’t like it when people smoke around me. I don’t like breathing cigarette smoke, I don’t like getting it on my clothes, hair and skin, and perhaps more than anything else I don’t like the inherent civic rudeness of public smoking  – the idea that someone can contaminate the air of someone else without a second thought.
    But sometimes my desire not to be around cigarette smoke runs up against other desires:  for instance, my desire to have a good time on my trip to Spain this summer.
    Spain has history, culture, cities, beaches, and really attractive people.  Spain has a lot of smokers, too. Spaniards smoke in restaurants, they smoke in bars, they smoke while pushing strollers, they smoke on the beach. Spain has a toothless no-smoking ordinance, so in the majority of smaller restaurants and bars everyone can and does smoke.
    I didn’t fly to Spain to mainline other people’s nicotine, but on the other hand I didn’t fly to Spain to be crabby and obsessive. What to do?
    One idea central to coaching and positive psychology is that how we choose to perceive things affects how we feel about them.  As I walked around Barcelona trying to find a place where I could eat without getting cinders in my eyes, I came up with this list of tips for being happy in a smoking country.

Create a goal, not an expectation.  When I assumed that restaurants in Spain would be nonsmoking and discovered they were not, I gnashed my teeth.  When I changed this expectation into the goal of finding one of the handful of clean-air dining places, I walked with a different attitude.  It was like a treasure hunt:  “I know there are some smoke-free restaurants here in Barcelona, and I am going to succeed in finding one!  And it will be awesome!”

Practice gratitude. As Martin Seligman points out in Authentic Happiness, when you articulate what you’re grateful for, you see the glass as half-full rather than half-empty. I recited some of the things I was grateful for.  “I’m grateful that I live in a city that has smoke-free restaurants, and I never even have to think about these things.”  “I’m grateful that I have this chance to see another culture.”  “I’m happy that I have the choice to eat out in restaurants.”

Compare downward. Comparing ourselves to others makes us unhappy. However, as Sonia Sonja Lyubomirsky out The How of Happiness, comparing yourself to less fortunate people actually makes you feel happier. I thought, “People in Spain who want to avoid public smoking have a hard time, whereas where I live in New York it’s pretty easy.”

Anticipate, Relish, Remember and Share.  Gretchen Rubin at The Happiness Project taught me this.  Any experience yields more happiness if you anticipate it (“dinner in whatever smoke-free restaurant we find will be great tonight!”); relish it (“are these the best patatas bravas you’ve ever had, or what?”); remember it (“my waitress was so nice last night”) and share it (“check out this photo of my favorite restaurant in Madrid – it was awesome and smoke-free!”)

Assume positive intentions. If people are smoking two feet away from you, it doesn’t necessarily mean that they are deliberately trying to bother you.  It’s possible they are unaware. It’s possible that they have different cultural mores.  Is it possible that they contribute to Greenpeace and visit their grandmothers every Sunday.  When I assumed positive intentions, I realized that no one was deliberately trying to sabotage my trip. They were just doing their thing.

Ask for what you want.  Asking for what you want is the opposite of being powerless and complainy.  A couple of times I asked people not to smoke, usually when I was standing in the reception area of a larger restaurant that had some kind of no-smoking section, and someone obliviously wandered in from the street puffing on a cigarette. Saying, “Disculpe, no se permite fumar aquí” didn’t result in anything bad. In each case, the person apologized and put out his or her cigarette immediately.  They were just unaware. 

Notice what’s right. This is another reframing technique so that what is bugging you is not the entire focus of your thoughts. What was right:  Spain was gorgeous.  I could speak with people and be understood. It was not crowded. The food was delicious everywhere I went.  People were friendly. I had a great time.

I'm writing a book proposal (for my new SMASH-HIT BESTSELLER that will help people around the world and get Terry Gross to interview me).  I experience excitement and dread in this process.  Peace and agitation.  Basic writing stuff.  Writing is fullfillinghard.  Fundrudgery.  Gratifyingdoubtinducing. 

At this very moment I am in the midst of a whirr of writing activity.  My father, who has retired to Tucson, is visiting me for a week in Massachusetts.  Right now I have dispatched him to wander around Northampton for 75 minutes while I pound out my proposal at the Haymarket Cafe.  I'm cranking! (This blog post counts as part of my proposal-writing, by the way.)

Basically, what I need is a series of babysitters -- friends, relatives or complete strangers who will leave me in cafes with my laptop, and then come back a fixed time later to take me away.  It's the fact that the time period will end that makes me productive. 

I am productive when I have just the right amount of freedom taken away.

I have never been fully satisfied in my wish to hang out regularly with celebrities, but occasionally I have brushed up against them.  And even shaken hands!