LifeRevelation

Life is a Revelation…be encouraged

Archive for the category “wondering”

Motivation?

Motivation?

The relationship between visits to seek.com.au and Web conferences

http://www.themaninblue.com/writing/perspective/2006/10/11/

Does this look familiar? I think we can all see ourselves in this graph. We are running low on motivation, then we go to a conference/seminar/retreat  and suddenly we are on inspiration steroids, without the nasty side effects, unless you count being slightly over-the-top annoying to your co-workers. Then the reality of the job/family/personal relationships start to encroach on our stimulating high and we begin a downward trend. At first, we tell ourselves it is alright. There is a reason nothing grows a mountain tops, it is unreasonable to believe we could be highly motivated all the time.

We slip a little more, but we are busy and it is difficult to keep track of this all the time.  We’ve got commitments, there are reports, job issues, kid’s soccer and dance, significant others who aren’t quite as supporting as we would like, and before long our motivation has sunk back to where it was before our big event.

This is one remedy:

Trying to maintain innovation motivation using constant Web conferences

http://www.themaninblue.com/writing/perspective/2006/10/11/

The trouble with this concept is you end up going to every type of motivational seminar you hear about, you read the top motivational books, you subscribe to the motivational emails, and you end up driving yourself batty trying to stay on top of your game.

We need to stop the merry-go-round and get off. I believe there is a way to avoid the roller-coaster and still keep our drive and passion running high. I know there is a way to enjoy the benefits of inspiration and enthusiasm without it becoming another burden in life to deal with. The reason I am convinced of this is because I have utilized it in my own life. I have been able to eliminate the erratic up and down flow of emotions. I have discovered a method of smoothing out the rough patches and maintaining the energy and excitement.

I was asked one time by a slightly skeptical individual if I was a motivational speaker. When I replied I was he had a look on his face like I had fallen directly into his trap. With as much disdain as he could muster he said, “So motivate me?” I looked directly into his stare and said, “I can’t.” He looked like the cat when the mouse gets a way. He stammered back, “Whaddya mean?”

I ran through much the same scenario as I have outlined above and then said, “Only you can motivate you.” At that point he was intrigued enough to forsake the testosterone fueled attitude and we began to talk.

I told him how all the words and encouragement in the world don’t mean anything until the individual begins to act. There must be a decision. There must be action. There must be follow through. Only when we make a choice to change our ways can our circumstances change. Thinking all the right thoughts will help and reading the books by the most influential motivational speakers will assist, but nothing will happen until you make a decision.

I have gone from deceiver to achiever, dope to hope, and mess to success. I did not do it by reading or hearing or thinking, I did it by getting up off my sofa and acting on what I knew to be true. I added fuel to the fire and turned up the flame. Turning the criminal life I was leading into a life of benefit to others was no overnight sensation. It was hard, continual work. There was a lot of sweat and tears, and then more sweat and even more tears. When the going got tough (and it always will, at some point) I lowered my head and kept going. I was not about to give up no matter what. I knew what was behind me. I had no desire for my past to dictate my future. It was full steam ahead and damn the torpedoes. There was no exit ramp. There was no time out area. There was no alternative, except to move forward. The options list had been added to the fire. Now maybe you don’t have the drama I had or maybe you have more, it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except getting up and doing something. There are no excuses. There are no reasons. The only thing left to do, is do.

Is changing your thought pattern beneficial? Absolutely! Is reading inspiring books good? You bet it is, I’m reading inspirational material all the time. Is associating with others who share my desire alright? Yes it is, I have surrounded myself with people of integrity, who share my vision for changing the world. Isn’t all of that enough? No it isn’t. You’ve got to take action. All of those ideas will help, but until you take matters into your own hands and implement everything into your actions, your emotional state will remain flat, or worse, continue in a downward descent.

Will you have fears? Yes you will. Will you get scared? Yes you will. It will be so bad at times that your insides liquefy. You will get headaches. You will sweat profusely at times. You will think you can’t go on. You will want to quit. You will want to give up. You will cry. You will yell. You will curse. You will hate it at times with every ounce of your being. You will imagine death to be easier (it is not). It will be both mental and physical. But keep moving forward.

Does this sound like the old coach revving up the players for the big game. Yes it does! Why? Because it works, pure and simple. Actions change our lives. It isn’t rocket science, thank God or I would never have gotten it. What it is, is plain old fashion hard work. I know that isn’t popular, there is a reason why there is a glut of “labor saving devices” in the market. But it can’t be avoided. An alcoholic must go through withdrawals. The same is true for any type of drug addiction.  The withdrawals are painful, uncomfortable, and sometimes feel like hell itself, but they work…and they are unavoidable.

Forging the life we want isn’t always sweet chimes, white fluffy clouds, and incense. More often it resembles a hard day of baling hay. The sweat stings your eyes. Your nostrils are clogged with the thick dust of hay. Your arms feel like they will fall off. Your mind goes into tunnel thought. Your back is made aware of a whole new level of searing pain, but at the end of the day, when you look up in the loft and see it full of stacked bales, the pride you feel is overwhelming. A sense of job well done. Nothing automatic about it. You worked for it and have the proof of your labors.

Forge a new life. Set yourself free. Work for it. Feel the sting, the ache, the desire. Know in your mind it is more important than your next breath. Feel it in everything within you. Unleash yourself. Cut the chain and run. Run until your lungs burn like hot fiery pokers have been shoved down your throat. Feel the exhaustion. Feel the power. Feel the freedom.

Live the life you want. Whatever that is. Is it being in the center of the road? Is it the road less traveled? Is it the road traveled by your friends, family, and loved ones? Is it not even a road? Is it a path? Is it just two points strung out on a distant map in your mind? Is it uncharted territory? Is it a deep and rolling sea? Is it a small babbling brook? Is it hunkered down in a home you love as much as anything else on earth? It doesn’t matter what it is…live the life you want.

Whatever it is, live it to the raw fullest. Be inflamed with your life. Let it consume your being and ooze from your pores. Don’t hold back and never give up. Have it stamped on your forehead. Burn it into your consciousness. Put it out front. Wear it on your sleeve. Brandish it like a double edge sword. Hold your banner high. Keep it up. Don’t give up. Keep adding fuel to the fire.

Action is the key…now get up and go for it!

BE ALIVE!
BE ALIVE!

BE ALIVE!

BE ALIVE!

BE ALIVE!

BE ALIVE!

Be encouraged! 

Be encouraged!

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A Personal Story

http://www.allposters.com/-sp/Depressed-Man-Sitting-in-Dark-Room-Posters_i8654375_.htm

A Personal Story 

Let me tell you a personal story.

Several years ago a friend of mine was driving me someplace. I don’t remember where, and it doesn’t matter. We were laughing and talking about who knows what. Probably the kind of things men talk about when it is only men, which means sex. It was a perfect summer day. The sky was crystal blue without a cloud from horizon to horizon and the sun was warm, but not hot.

As he was driving he began to steer the car toward the curb and decrease his speed. Since I was always on the alert, due to the kind of life I was living, I immediately began to evaluate the situation. I know he sensed the rising tension within me, because his next words were, “Relax Steve, I only want to ask you one question.”  I still wasn’t entirely convinced, but this was my best friend. He knew all about what I did to earn my seven-figure a year income, because he was my right-hand man in the organization I had built. While I always kept at least a few things to myself as insurance, he knew enough, and was as deeply involved as I was, which was a kind of insurance in and of itself. Of course there was always the threat he might want to take the quick route to the top of the food chain, but I didn’t believe he had it in him to pull the trigger, at least not at close range in the front seat of his car. Nonetheless, it was always good to be cautious, so my right hand inched slowly to the inside of my jacket.

When the car had come to a stop, he reached over and shut off the engine. The stereo died and all I could hear was the rush of traffic along the freeway and my heart beat, pounding a mile a minute. He shifted his weight in the seat and turned to face me. The look on his face is still crystal clear in my mind over three decades later, as I heard him ask,

“Steve, don’t you think it would have been better for all of us, if you had never been born?”

I felt like all the oxygen had suddenly been sucked out of the car. There was a ringing in my ears, more than likely from the sudden surge of adrenaline. I was engulfed in the most complete silence I have ever experienced. I no longer heard the cars as they whizzed by. Nor did I hear the birds chirping in the nearby trees. It was just the ringing and the vast silence.

I don’t recall what I stammered out, but his question hit the mark. I carried that question with me. During quiet moments I would take it out and think about it. What was my worth? Why am I alive? What is this thing we flippantly refer to as life? What am I doing here? Why am I here?

It would be many more years before I would have my “life revelation” and find the answer to those questions.  Those were dark years. Not that I didn’t learn from them, I did. But I learned the hard way.

Now I am far removed from the events of those years. I have created an entirely different person from the one who lived in those times. One of my readers once wrote and said I was “plagued” by my past. I’ve given considerable thought to that sentiment. I believe the reader is/was wrong. I am not “plagued” by the choices I once made. I am well aware of them and the impact they had on me and others at the time.  But the operative word in the last sentence is “had.” No longer am I governed by those actions. I have a deep passion to help others find their True Path in life. I have discovered we only get a set number of years and wasting them by floundering around seeking our direction is counter productive to what we want to accomplish.

But plagued? No way! I have triumphed over that life! I have come out on the other side victorious! I did so with the patience and love of the one I am now married to. She saw the possibilities. She had/has the faith.

This post is difficult to end. I don’t have a nice and tidy wrap-up. I am not inclined to rally the troops and lead you in any type of charge. I just want you to know if your love is filled with drama, more or less it doesn’t matter, there is hope. You can change. I can show you how.

Or if you have that person in your life who no matter what you do, they never change. You have poured time, money, effort, prayers, and everything else you could think of into their lives and they never change. I can tell you not to give up hope. There is and always will be the possibility, even up to and including the moment they draw their last breath, that they can change.

I know…I use to be one of them.

I am always available to talk…stephenedwards922@gmail.com or 812-314-1358.

Be encouraged!

 

Sometimes There Is A Gorilla

http://www.earthtimes.org/scitech/gorilla-genomes-hopes-hominids/1859/

SOMETIMES THERE IS A GORILLA

I am currently reading a book (when am I not?) about how we think. The book is Thinking Fast & Slow by Daniel Kahneman,  (ISBN 0374275637 / 9780374275631, Publ. Farrar, Straus, Giroux, 2011). Dr. Kahneman, who won The Nobel Prize in 2002 for Economic Sciences, writes a very interesting book about what influences our thoughts and beliefs. To give you a thumbnail sketch, he breaks our thinking down into what he identifies as System 1, which is our fast thinking (e.g., how we immediately know someone is angry by looking at their face) and System 2, which is our slow thinking (e.g., how much is 34 x 19). While most of us like to think we are governed by System 2, our slow, reasonable thinking side, he extrapolates by way of sound reasoning, that our thinking may be guided by System 1 far more than we realize. If you get a chance, read the book. Dr. Kahneman, thankfully, uses almost no technical jargon so the read is easy, enjoyable, and fascinating for those of us who are interested in how and why we think the way we do.

In the early pages of his book, Dr. Kahneman relates a psychological study from a book by Christopher F. Chavis and Daniel J. Simons, entitled, The Invisible Gorilla: And Other Ways We Deceive Ourselves (ISBN 9780307459664 / eISBN 9780307459671 Publ. Random House, 2010). The study is a video of two groups, one wearing white shirts and one wearing black shirts, passing a basketball on a court. Those viewing the video are instructed to count the number of times the members of the group wearing white shirts pass the basketball. They are to ignore the black shirted group. During the video a woman wearing a gorilla costume walks through the video, thumps her chest and moves on.

This video has been shown to thousands of individuals…about half never see the woman in the gorilla costume.

About HALF you say?!

Amazing isn’t it? Not only do they not see the gorilla, but when they are told about the gorilla they are initially positive it wasn’t there. Hence there are really two issues here:

  1. They are blind to the obvious.
  2. They are blind to the fact they are blind.

Makes you wonder what we are blind to our in our own lives, doesn’t it? What gorillas do we have wondering around, that others see, yet we don’t have a clue.

I know I’m pretty good at spotting them in other people’s lives.

Think I’ll spend some time today trying to locate some gorillas walking about in my life.

Be encouraged!

First Lie

I still remember the first lie I ever told.

I grew up in a tiny farming community population 650. I was in the second grade and the class  consisted of about 28 students, so we were divided into two classrooms each with their own teacher. Although I am now foggy as to the exact nature of the issue, as best as I can remember it involved something of one the teachers turned up missing. At the end of the day each teacher addressed their students on the subject of honesty and asked for whatever was taken to be returned and there would be no questions asked.

When I got home from school I told Mom about the missing whatever, but I added something. I told her, as I was leaving school, the other teacher said, “Why don’t you return it? We know you took it.” What possessed me say that, I don’t have a clue. I don’t know if I was trying to show off, which is something I was known to do from time to time. I didn’t dislike the other teacher. Maybe I was just trying to inject a little drama into my small town, second grade life. Well let me tell you, drama I got.

My Mom was mad. Nobody messed with her one and only child, nobody. Who did this teacher think she was? She had no right to accuse me. She didn’t have any proof and besides it wasn’t true. For Mom, I was simply incapable of doing such a thing. In this case Mom was right. Later in life, however, I sorely abused my parents trust, but that is another story (and much, much longer). My Mom decided to call in the ultimate fire power, my Dad.

This was before the age of emails and cell phones. My Dad worked trimming trees underneath electrical lines for a rural power company and the only way to reach him was call his company’s office, leave a message, hope they would give it to him, and wait for him to call back. My Mom called and asked for the operator to notify my Dad to call her when he arrived back at the end of the day. This time the procedure worked like a charm, Dad called a few minutes before four o’clock. I heard Mom heatedly telling him the lie I told her and then lots of “hmms”, “that’s right”, and finally “sounds good to me.” When she got off the phone she said Dad was on his way to the school and would talk to the teacher and set this straight.

I broke out in a cold sweat.

I had never lied to my parents before. I had never even embellished the truth. I hadn’t told a white lie. I had never told a lie of any sort, for any reason, ever. Until now. Now I was sweating. I didn’t know what to do. I went outside. I walked around the yard. I don’t remember exactly what I was thinking, but probably something along the lines of wishing for a car to veer off the street in front of our house and run over me, or a plane to crash-land on me. Anything to get me out of this jam. I couldn’t think of a single way to get my butt out of what I had heard my Dad refer to as a “rock and a hard place.” Suddenly, I had a whole new appreciation for that phrase.

About an hour (seemed like an eternity) later my Dad drove up. Everyone at the school had been gone except the school secretary. Dad was one of those type of guys who only talked to those he had a problem with. If the next door neighbor’s son was a problem, Dad only discussed it with the son. The parents would never know. So when the teacher wasn’t in, Dad simply made an appointment to see her after school the next day.

I don’t know if this is when I first began to believe in a Higher Power answering the pleas of us sinners or not, but it had to be close. I would live and breathe for another day.

I ate dinner in a stupor. Rather than going outside to play, I went to my room. My bedtime was 8:00 pm, I was in bed, pretending to be asleep by 7:00. I didn’t know what to do and I couldn’t think of a single way to get out of this mess.

The next day I was a zombie at school. I had slept less than a couple of hours. I was exhausted, my insides had liquefied, I wasn’t talking to my friends, and I had no appetite. I was still hoping for the car or plane to hit me.

As I was dragging my self home wracking my brain for the 1,670,942,428 time, I had an epiphany. It was like in the midst of all the darkness a sudden spark of light erupted. I was in shock.

I would tell the truth.

I would tell Mom I lied, she could call Dad, Dad wouldn’t go and confront the teacher, and when he got home they would take turns beating my butt into bloody oblivion, but it was better than what I was currently feeling. I wanted physical pain. Especially if it would alleviate this internal hell I was going through.

I got home and before I kissed Mom, or threw my books on the bed, or asked for milk and cookies, I looked her in the eye, opened my mouth…and began to cry my eyes out. Tears shot out of my eyes like a horizontal water fountain, snot started running out my nose, and I began to shake all over.  God, why didn’t that car run over me? Mom was stunned (to say the least). She came across the room, bent down on one knee and pulled me into her. Let me tell you, there are few things in life that feel as good as your Mom hugging you, especially if you are a lying little snit and you wonder if your parents are going to kill you when you confess.

After cooing over me and getting a tissue out of her pocket (Momma was old school, she always carried tissues) to attempt to clean me up, she held me out at arm’s length, looked me in the eye, and asked in that soft southern draw, “Honey, its okay, what’s the matter?”

In between my sniffles and shaking I blurted out, “Momma, I lied! The teacher never said I took nothing!”

End of cooing, end of wiping tears from my face, end of soft voice, end of being on one knee. Mom jumped up and shot me “The Eye.” The one where you know you’ve done wrong and all that remains is your execution. I remember a flash going through my mind wondering if that would be the last time Mom ever hugged me (thank God it wasn’t).

Her voice was like ice-cold hardened steel cutting through warm tender flesh (to be read: my heart). Her eyes narrowed and through lips you couldn’t have pried apart with a crowbar she hissed, “I hope I can reach your Father.” and off she stomped to the phone. I went into the living room sat down and whimpered some more. God, I’m not doing this again I thought, no matter what. This is crazy, stupid and dumb. I hate feeling this way and it looks like I’ve got a long way to go before things start getting any better.

I don’t know how long it was before Mom came into the living room and said in the same hissing voice, “They got hold of your Dad, he is on his way home.”

I figured that would be when I would die.

Dad came home, we set down for dinner, and Dad talked about everything under the sun, except my lie. I picked at my food like a condemned man awaiting his final walk. Mom and Dad talked, I kept my eyes glued to my plate. After dinner Dad helped Mom in the kitchen and I went to watch TV with my eyes, while my ears stayed tuned to the low soft murmuring coming from them as they stood in front of the sink. I knew they were talking about me, but I couldn’t make out a word they were saying. Later they both came in and joined me in front of the TV. Nothing was  said to me, their son, the liar.

Next day, and the next, and the next, same thing. Dad came home, we did the family routine, and I did not get massacred.

On the following Saturday afternoon Dad and I were wrestling around on the living room floor. There was brief lull in our tumbling and goofing and he said, “You know Bud (he always called me Bud, don’t know why and he never said) you really ought not to lie.” I mumbled something back like, “OK” and we went back to rolling around, but my little seven-year old mind was reeling.

YOU GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!

I’ve been spanked for traipsing into the kitchen with mud on my shoes. I’ve been set in the corner for bouncing a rubber ball off the side of the house. I’ve not been allowed to play outside with all my friends because I rode my bike off the sidewalk into a neighbor’s yard. But for telling my first biggest whopper ever in my young life, I’m told not to do it again?, while Dad holds me in his arms?

YOU GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!

For four days of sheer terror, in which I thought the life I loved was going to end for all eternity I get told not to do it again.

Hmm, this is different. I’m going to have to think about this. To my pea brain this could only mean one thing.

Telling a lie wasn’t all that big of a deal.

I figured it was kind of important. But nothing like having mud caked on your shoes, while standing at the sink getting a glass of water, and the water somehow dripping down on your shoes causing the mud to turn into this kind of oozing dirty slime, or riding your bike a few feet into the stupid neighbor’s precious yard through her yucky flower beds. It wasn’t even as bad as bouncing a rubber ball off the asbestos siding on the house and chipping out a couple, or more, silly divots. Heck, if you were a few hundred feet away you could hardly see them.

Telling a lie wasn’t all that big of a deal.

That is what stuck in my seven-year old mind.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

First a few clarifications. I am not laying the blame for all the lies I’ve told in my life at the feet of my parents. Seeing as how my mind developed during my teen years, I am quite positive if they had sawed my tongue out with a rusty corroded razor blade, I would still have went on lying either by writing or conveying them via ASL. I would have found a way. I take full and complete responsibility for every deception, lie, and half truth (if there is such a thing) I have ever told. Nobody held a gun to my head.

Second, my parents would have been horrified at the way I have interpreted these events. This was never their intention, nor could they have ever imagined such an outcome. They were loving parents with a rowdy child. They had been married for thirteen years when I was born and I am an only child. So they were set in their ways, so to speak. They did everything possible to insure I had what I needed for a well-rounded life. It just took until I was in my late thirties for it to all take effect. I’m afraid I am a card-carrying member of  “The Late-Bloomer Association.”

I want to foster a conversation about why we start lying. Why did you start? Do you remember your first lie? What was it? How did it make you feel? Think about it and let me know. And if this is one of those things you don’t want the whole world (not that this blog has quite that large of a readership, but you never know) to know then send it to my email http://www.stephenedwards922@gmail.com and I will keep it private.

Again, thank you for reading these long posts. God, I wish I could write 300 words and they would hit like a sledgehammer, but I don’t think it will ever happen.

Be encouraged!

Readers,

 

Found this post  by Stephanie at http://www.cafeforyourthoughts.wordpress.com and thought it was very much worth reblogging. I hope you will not only enjoy reading, but also apply as needed.

 

Thanks as always for taking the time out of hectic lives to stop in. I hope you always find bits of wisdom to add value to your lives.

 

Be encouraged!

Cake for Your Thoughts

I couldn’t really think of anything to say today. When that happens, there is usually something that someone else has said that needs to be said again, and I should stop rambling–kind of like the whole “80-20 Rule“.
(Get used to me saying redundant things like that, because I love it.)

Most of you have probably seen this somewhere.
We have a plaque thing hanging in our hallway that I read often. (See the proof?)
Different things stand out on different days, but all of it is so good and so true.

People are often unreasonable, irrational, and self-centered. Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives. Be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies. Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and sincere people may deceive you. Be honest and sincere anyway.

View original post 114 more words

Before We Go Any Further

Stop Sign 2 Clip Art

PLEASE LOOK AT THE DAY & DATE

OF THE LAST POST

THEY DON’T MATCH

Here is my point…lying and believing are intertwined. Someone once commented they believed people wanted to hear a lie just as often as they wanted to be told the truth. While I”m not ready to whole-heartedly embrace that philosophy, I do believe there is a connection between lying and what we want to hear.

Do I believe there should be a NO LYING DAY? Absolutely. I would love to see the concept reported on CNN, ABC, NBC, CBS, FOX, the news wires, and go viral. What a great concept. The realty will probably fall far short.

Why? Because many of us are simply comfortable in our lies. It is where we live and work. Our lies are no more a distinct separate part of our existence. They are part and parcel of who we are. We have lived and breathed them for so long, that our lies feel like the truth, and the truth now feels as strange as lies once did.

We operate in a world that not only encouraged the use of falsehoods, but actually, it many respects rewards it. Whatever the reason for lying, we are masters at justifying it. All the way from “everybody does it” (which is probably true) to “it wasn’t REALLY a lie.”  If we want to, we can find an excuse.

I have received several emails and comments about this subject. Many writers were intrigued by the question of morality it raises, others were more interested in the philosophical underpinnings. There were writers who complained of my over-simplified explanation. The point is, the issue of lying, deserves to be a topic of conversation. It needs the light of us blog writers, the press, think tanks, TED talks, church groups, and folks sitting around having a few beers. In my heart I believe change bubbles up. Only when we the common folk, the 99%, the silent majority, or whatever it is we are going by now, rise up and say, “Wait a minute! This is an issue. Lets talk about it.”, we are going to continue to experience an erosion of truth it all its forms.

I hope this post causes you to think. After you think about lies, and truth, and the role you play in it, maybe you will talk. Start a conversation with a loved one, or your child, the neighbor, your pastor, those in your study group, or any one who is willing to listen. With all my heart I believe change bubbles up. And, just maybe, some day we really will have a day of NO LYING.

Be encouraged!

 

From Those Who Comment…

This post is purely inspired by those who commented on Lying–Maybe…Maybe Not.

Lem Usita writes at www.identityspecialist.wordpress.com. His post show a deft knowledge of leadership and how it ought to work. Her posts are filled with practical, rubber-meets-the-road type of information that I personally crave. I am the just-tell-me-what-to-do-and get out-of-the-way kind of guy, and Lem tells you what and how to do it. He wrote:

You bring up an interesting idea for me – this idea that lying takes on different forms depending on your stage of development – pick your developmental theory. I need to think about what a lie looks like in light of this. Do you have any articles that talk about this?
Thanks for the post.

I responded with:

Lem, first of all let me say how much I enjoy your posts regarding leadership. I would like to swap a few emails, or even a phone call or two , to discuss my experiences in leadership development at a Global 100 manufacturing firm. I think you’ll find the stories interesting.

Developmental theories are kind of like a bad haircut, everyone has had one, but their idea of what it is differs widely. Lying when we are younger is often seen as punishment avoidance. Q.-Did you spill the milk? A.-No way, the cat did it. As we age lying is the result of peer acceptance or is seen as a useful tool to gain something. Such as Q.-Hey Dad, can I have the car keys? A./Q.-Did you get your room cleaned like your Mom asked? A.-Yeah, pretty much (Reality-room looks like a bomb went off in it, but you told the guys it would be no problem getting your Dad’s car and promised to pick them up at 6:00). By the time you have graduated from college and entered the work force, the lies start to look more like CYA. Q.-Did you get the Jones Report done? A.-Yeah, you’ll have it on your desk when you arrive in the morning. (Reality-What the hell is the Jones report?)

If you look at Maslow and Metamotivation, is it possible we are seeking fulfillment of our Being Needs via lying through our teeth?

I don’t have any articles which speak directly about what I’ve written. However, I have pulled from Psychology Journals, books, magazines, newspapers, and friends who I have bombarded with questions, concepts, and theories. While sitting around having a few beers I have often pulled the topic of our conversation from whether the Yankees will pull it together to make another run for the pennant to when do our dreams become reality?

I drive my friends nuts, but as long as I’m buying, they seem to hang around. lol

My email is stephenedwards922@gmail.com. Give me a holler and maybe we can exchange phone numbers. By the way…what do you think…when do dreams become reality?

Another comment I received was from 5kidsmom. She writes at www.carnivalcommunications.wordpress.com. Her writing is clear, pure and cleverly insightful. I have always deeply enjoyed her thought process and delivery. Also in the interest of honesty; her and I have discovered we share remarkably similar, yet different perspectives, so we have agreed to collaborate on a book. She wrote th:

oh my….
>>>>>”Some men (not all, ;) have to lie about ‘WHY’ they lie!!<<<<<<
Rack ’em up boys!! Keep lying about why you’re lying, we’re listening LOL! What he doesn’t realize is….while little boys are lying to their mothers, (???FEAR??) little girls are being taught by their fathers, BOYS LIE!
Too late MacIntyre—-we’re onto you, and just like you, we started ‘getting it’, from a very young age!! That’s no lie ;) One more thing, boys lying to their Mom’s didn’t really make life easier, it probably just sparred them the consequences. So come on guys, you lie because you’re afraid of the wrath lol!

I responded:

Gosh, this lying thing has started our own little personal firestorm. Why? Well probably for two reasons. 1.) We all do it. We aren’t exactly proud of that fact. We don’t go around saying, “Alright! I just told another whopper!” Truth is we are ashamed. We are ashamed, because even after all we’ve been taught (programmed?) we still know it is wrong. 2.) We have all been lied to and it is frustrating. It hurts and we clearly understand the world (shoot, forget the world, even our little lives) would be a better place if everyone would stop.

Boys lie to girls, girls lie to boys, men lie to women, women lie to men, men lie to men, women lie to women, employees lie to bosses, bosses lie to employees, companies lie to customers, customers lie to companies, races lie to other races, nations lie to other nations, and I’m relatively confident if the human race ever encounters extra terrestrials, we will lie to them too.

So the bottom line is, “What do we do?”

This is too good for just a reply. I’m going to take this out and put it on the big screen. I will have a post forthwith, which will answer the question, “What do we do?”

WHAT DO WE DO?

Here is what I propose:

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 20,2012 IS A NO LYING DAY

START EMAILING YOUR FRIENDS & EVERYONE IN THE WORLD YOU KNOW! TELL EVERY SINGLE HUMAN BEING YOU COME INTO CONTACT WITH THAT WEDNESDAY, APRIL 20, 2012 IS A NO LYING DAY. WE WILL TELL NO LIES FROM MIDNIGHT TO MIDNIGHT.

NOW GO

BE ENCOURAGED!

Readers:

I am reblogging this post from Marie Wetmore’s site http://www.mariewetmore.com. This is my second reblog in a row, but I feel these are important voices worthy to be heard. If you have any technical trouble viewing the video, click on the address for mobile users.

The young man, Autistic salutatorian Eric Duquette, is a perfect example of having a growth mindset. No failures in his life, only opportunities to grow and learn.

This story is especially close to my heart. One of Grandsons is autistic. He, also, has a growth mindset and has taught our family many important lessons about how to approach obstacles in our lives.  In the future I will write his story. I have often been inspired by his tenacity and accomplishments.

As always I hope you find motivation in this post. I hope you gleam a morsel of truth, which helps. Thanks for reading.

Be encouraged!

Failure or Smarter?

This is an intriguing  book by Carol S. Dweck, Ph.D. entitled Mindset: The New Psychology of Success (and yes, I am leery of anything which proclaims to be New as well, but in her case I think it was probably the Marketing Dept. rather than her steadfast insistence) published by Random House, 2006, ISBN 1400062756. She begins her book with a confession of when she was a young researcher she had a LifeRevelation (obviously my interpretation). she wanted to know how people coped with failures, so she decided to watch how young students (10 -12 year olds) wrestled with difficult problems. Most students grunted, groaned, wrestled and literally sweated their way through (this is where I would have been). Others, however, displayed a completely different response. They got excited. They looked forward to the difficulty in solving the problems. They actually relished in the experience of trying to find the answer. The concept of failure never entered their minds.They perceived the challenge as being a learning experience. This wasn’t success or failure…it was learning. They were getting smarter.

Dr Dweck argues (quite convincingly I believe) that everyone holds one of two mindsets. One is that what she calls the fixed mindset. Those who hold this belief think your abilities and talents are etched in stone. In other words, you either have them or you don’t . You are either a great write or you or not…and there is no sense in trying to alter fate. You either can get up and speak to room full of strangers or you can’t and no amount of thinking they ae all sitting there in their underwear will change your fear.  The other is referred to as the growth mindset. This is the conviction that your talents and abilities can be increased over time. So while you may not be able to write well or speak in front of  an audience, you can with the right instruction and training develop the skills and confidence necessary to accomplish both.

Dr Dweck goes on to say these mindsets are created early in our childhood and then continue on throughout out lives. She portrays the subtle destructiveness of the fixed mindset as a lie, with the ability to dampen our lives in extraordinary ways. More importantly she demonstrates how applying the growth mindset can not only alter our  current lives, but lay the foundation for success early in children’s lives.

As I have worked to adopt her teachings I have discovered I hold onto some rather unique thought patterns. For instance, as a cyclist I believe I can get incrementally better with the right type of training. However, I feel completely incapable of learning to speak a foreign language. I believe I speak well before large audiences and can continually improve and hone my speaking craft. But trying to learn the ins and outs of working my laptop is frustrating and feels more akin to bashing my forehead on the desk in front of me.  So I have both fixed and growth mindsets.  I have learned this is not nearly as unique as I first believed. In fact, most of us fall into this category. There are things in life which come as natural as drawing our next breath. Meanwhile we also have those issues which cause us to wonder why we were ever been born.

Buy the book. Read the book. Learn how to change your mindset. Better yet, learn how to develop the growth mindset in your children or grandchildren.

Be encouraged!

More humor…from Tim Mushey @ www.SellLeadSucceed.com

The kitty cat photo nearly made me blow my drink through my nose…exactly how I felt in the corporate world.

Be encouraged!

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