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“Inspiration is the windfall from hard work and focus. Muses are too unreliable to keep on the payroll.”
― Helen Hanson

A muse is a person or personified force who is the source of inspiration for a creative artist. I’d modify that definition slightly by saying a muse is any source of inspiration for creativity. Do you have a muse? Have you ever?

Through the years of Leaning Toward Wisdom, I’ve talked about two that have occupied The Yellow Studio from the beginning – for over 22 years.

Books.

A guitar.

Back in July, I started The Great Purge. Around 1,500 books exited The Yellow Studio, donated to the local library where I suspect the majority were sold in an annual sale to raise money for said library. The few I decided to keep – well under 100 titles – were boxed up and safely stored away for the next chapter of The Yellow Studio.

By mid-August, whatever muse the books served was gone. Or was it?

The books were gone, but any muse – source of inspiration – was far from gone. Sleep and the books were gone, but the inspiration was running wide open. I began to get on an unprecedented recording roll prompted by hours of writing. Feelings, phrases, words, quotes, lyrics, and photographs prompted the chasing of many ideas. I’m not saying any of them are good. You’re clicking PLAY so you can decide that. I only know that I had more episode ideas brewing than ever. Usually, I’m working on 4-6 show ideas, half of which never see daylight. About half of them languish and never get fully developed. Suddenly, in the span of about a month I looked and realized I had about twenty drafts going – show ideas that had a title and at least a couple of paragraphs of notes. I began to look at the totality of them to figure out the ones I most wanted to push across the finish line.

One idea begets another. It’s always worked that way for me. There was no attempt to keep that habit in play though since I already had so many episode ideas to pursue. But it happened anyway.

I’d sit here inside The Yellow Studio, headphones on listening to the BoDeans, or Dawes, or The Heavy Heavy, and start noodling on one idea – one draft. And a phrase or lyric would hit me, prompting me to open a new draft where I’d create a title. Just a title. Maybe one sentence to make note of what I was thinking of at the time. Then I’d go back to my original work.

“Great! Now instead of finishing one idea, I’ve created yet another one,” I’d think. Never mind. I’d trudge forward trying to finish at least one episode.

I leaned into the process.

Until I got COVID. My first foray with the virus. I’ll forever blame my contracting it on my poor sleep habits, provoked mainly by all the changes I was planning. Changes I desired and changes I was looking forward to – but changes that were putting my mind on a higher octane than it had experienced in some time. My mind wasn’t racing so much as it was doing cartwheels. I’m usually a bit more settled than that. But as we both know, we’ve never been HERE before. We’ve never been this age, in this place, in these circumstances, trying to do whatever it is we’re trying to do. We’re all in unchartered water as we enter a new day. Or night.

I thought about the muse and my references to my two most-mentioned muses. The biggest muse – the one that required the most space and was the most obvious – was gone. I was no longer surrounded by all the book spines that had surrounded me for years. And I was happy about it. I never experienced the sadness or difficulty that I predicted. Before The Great Purge, I had dreaded it, fearing I’d struggle to decide which books to keep and which would go. However, on the first day of sorting, I found myself fully engaged to see how few I could keep and how many I could part with. I piled the books in the hallway just outside The Yellow Studio. At one end of the hall were the keepers. At the other end were the goers. It quickly became a game to see how small I could make the keeper section and how large I could make the goer section. It was easy. Far easier than I had imagined. Mostly, it was liberating.

Once the books were gone from inside The Yellow Studio I sat here and wondered if my proverbial muse – the books – weren’t a muse at all, but a weight, an impediment. What if I had been wrong all these years about the books serving as a muse?

That’s when I began noodling today’s show, driven by my curiosity about these two perceived muses inside The Yellow Studio.

Do you have a muse? Have you ever had one? What made you think it was a muse?

For me, books were always inspirations for ideas. I’d read them and while I admit most weren’t worth the time invested to read them, many of them had at least one decent idea I could latch onto. The titles would remind me of when I had first read that book – and I’d have some thoughts about it. The titles alone often served to spark an idea.

Looking back, now that the books are gone, I wonder if they were less inspirational and more of a visual crutch. Did you catch what I said upfront about the things that inspire me?

Feelings, phrases, words, quotes, lyrics, and photographs prompted the chasing of many ideas.

Only one of those is specifically visual, photographs. It made me wonder why I ever thought the books were a muse. That led me to the quote by thriller writer Helen Hanson. Her statement hit me, “Muses are too unreliable to keep on the payroll.” That’s when I began to ask, “Are my muses even muses? And are they too unreliable to keep around?”

Turns out I had my answer – at least my short-term answer – on the books! Not only were they not the muse I thought they were, but they may also have been a hindrance. A reminder of the creativity of others, but not the provoker of my own that I had always thought. Back in July, I updated my personal website – RandyCantrell.com – to include my renewed focus on creation over consumption. I was already thinking these things long before I started The Great Purge. I had been growing tired of all the time invested in reading books only to be frequently disappointed in the content. Mostly, I had really grown tired of the marketing of books – the constant overpromising and underdelivering.

I know that may sound harshly judgmental – and I admit it is. But it’s based – no, it’s steeped – in my personal experience. With one small, but major caveat – these were mostly business or non-fiction books I was thinking of. Were these books based on creativity? Some. Some not. Then the reality of what the books had really served hit me. Provoking thoughts. Questions. Even the bad ones had done that.

There I was sorting books in the hallway. Dividing the keepers from the goers, mere feet apart from one another. Some destined to find their way into the hands of new owners. Others, destined to remain with me – likely for the duration of my life, however short or long that may be. And the money and time invested in them had been worthwhile, if only because they had forged me into a person looking for thoughts, insights, experience, and wisdom. I figured even the bad ones had taught me something.

But none of that meant they were a muse.

And it didn’t mean that my past passion to buy and read books had to remain as it had in the past. For starters, there are now many new mediums from which ideas can be collected and sparked. Like podcasts. 😉

Information is freer than ever before. I’m not saying books are outdated because I still love to read. I still love books, but today’s love looks and feels different. I’m less hungry for them today. I think it’s because they once served as a gateway – the primary avenue – for learning. Today, they’re less so and it’s made me more discriminating when I look at books. When you’ve read as many business, leadership, organizational behavior, and other such books as I have, I suppose it improves your discernment radar. It’s not 100% accurate but I’m able to figure out more easily books that are liable to be worthless.

The muse wasn’t gone, but my thinking books were a muse was. More specifically, my having read them – the hours spent pondering ideas – had been my muse all along. The books had helped. Been a vital part of the process, but there was no inspirational quality inherent in the books themselves as I had originally thought.

Creation versus consumption.

Seems to me this is the common plight of the digital age. Consumption is a habit because there’s so much being created. It’s a great paradox. Creation is easier than ever before. The avalanche of content begs for eyeballs and earbuds. Some of it finds an audience. Much of it doesn’t. So somebody is creating stuff, including books that are still being written and published. We’re driven to consume, which is why you hear about movie studios, TV networks, and stream services hungering for content.

About now I started thinking of this whole muse thing – this whole creation versus consumption thing – in a negative light. Well, potentially negative. It started with HGTV, a network devoted to hawking housewares, flooring, paint, and other items needed so you can make your house better, just like the ones you see on TV. Don’t get me wrong. I love HGTV and watch a number of the renovation shows.

Marketing is designed, in part, to lure us. To create, or at least identify, our need or desire. Sparked by watching young women posting updates and creative things they were doing in their homes, I began to think about this whole muse thing and how HGTV and other platforms were fueling dissatisfaction. Improving something. Growing. Those are important components in my life. I get it. But mostly, I was thinking of the investments made in money and time. Remember, I’d been in the throes of The Great Purge – something that required no money, but time! It’s also important to remember that I was leaning harder into a more modest way of life. It’s just where I’m at in life.

As I am wont to do, I started mulling over childhood creativity. Those lazy afternoons where we laid around under the pine trees staring at the sky trying to figure out what we’d do next. Bored.

People get bored with their homes. HGTV provides some terrific inspiration and ideas on how we might alter our living spaces to be better. Different, at least. A muse of sorts. Is marketing done on HGTV, whether through advertising or programming, a muse?

It’s certainly not how I always thought of a muse. But I guessed it could fit if you consider the ability of a muse to foster discontentment. It’s not how I saw muses. I still don’t. It smacked more of covetousness than inspiration for creativity.

Then enters the guitar. My guitar. One I saved up for, dollar by dollar for a few years until I could afford it. Still in the case, with the plastic protector on the pickguard. Even though I bought the guitar back in 2007.

Like the books I had two distinct memories of the guitar, both involving some people I love. One an old friend who passed on. The other a young lady who just months ago because a first-time mom. Two people who create music, something I’ve never done. Two people who can play the guitar, something I’ve never learned. They’re the only hands that have fretted this guitar since I bought it brand new.

Stanley, my lifelong boyhood friend, who died back in 2013 was the first to play it.

Sophie, a young lady who married a young man I’d grown close to, was the second.

Only those two.

Along with books, I’ve long declared that owning a guitar – even though I don’t play the guitar – has served as somewhat of a muse. It’s based on my love affair with the instrument. A love affair that never drove me to learn it, but drove me to listen to others play and appreciate their abilities.

Here I sat inside The Yellow Studio, having concluded the freedom of the books was now serving me better than hanging onto them. And I realized my love affair with the guitar had nothing to do with owning one. The reality was, that owning one had only served as a reminder that I could – if I wanted – learn. But I never have. And I’ve owned guitars almost all my adult life. Fact is, I’m never going to learn because long ago I realized I enjoy hearing great guitar players more than I’ve ever wanted to become one. And there’s nothing appealing to simply knowing how to play. I’d much rather listen or watch others do it well.

So what to do with this muse that is not a muse at all?

If as Helen Hanson claims, a muse is too unreliable to keep on the payroll, well something that isn’t a muse is surely too unreliable to keep around. Maybe.

Then I aimed my attention at the first sentence of Helen’s quote. “Inspiration is the windfall from hard work and focus.”

My hard work and focus have never been on learning to play the guitar, but on listening to and appreciating how well others could play. I hadn’t worked hard at all to learn. I had invested a lot of time into hearing others play though. But this guitar – this particular guitar – has been played by a friend who was closer to me than a brother. He was the brother I never had. I did some shows about him so I won’t belabor it here. You can search “Stanley” in the search feature and find them.

This guitar isn’t some classic high-end instrument. It’s middle of the road and I got it because I thought I might give learning one more try with a guitar that has lower action (the height of the strings off the fretboard). Obviously, my plan was more in my head than in my fingers!

Keeper or goer?

This was much tougher than the books because even though it was less of a muse than the books, there were specific people associated with the guitar. One of whom was extraordinarily special to me. And I’ve got audio recordings of him playing it, too.

I went so far as to take pictures of the guitar and case…anticipating that I might sell it. At some point, I grew sad that an instrument built to be played…wasn’t. And if I retained ownership, it would never be played. Was this guitar destined to live its entire life in a case? A pickguard destined to remain free of pick marks? A fretboard devoid of human fingertip oil?

I wondered how many songs the instrument had already sacrificed because it got an unlucky draw of being sold to a guy like me.

I felt sad for this guitar. That drove me to take those pictures, thinking it best to help it find a home where it could be put in the hands of a player rather than a dreamer.

But I just couldn’t think of it being a goer. Since 2007 it had been a keeper. A few songs. Two players. An old man – my age (Stanley James Elmore was only 56 when he passed — April 11, 1957 – May 12, 2013). A young lady, Sophie Smith Elliott. Still very much alive and now a wife and mom.

This guitar may not be a muse. And it may not be reliable in the least, not in my hands. But it has a priceless value for me. Value it wouldn’t have with anybody else. Are memories a muse? If so, then this instrument fits the bill.

Then I modified my earlier statements…

Feelings, phrases, words, quotes, lyrics, and photographs prompted the chasing of many ideas.

I added an important muse…one that had been staring at me the whole time. Memories. And I changed the sentence from past tense to present tense. And I made it more personal and specific.

Memories, feelings, phrases, words, quotes, lyrics, and photographs prompt me to chase new ideas. 

And with apologies to Helen, I modified her quote, too – to more ideally suit my current situation.

“Inspiration may be the windfall from hard work and focus, but muses are sometimes too valuable to part with.”

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Pearl Jam’s 1996 song, Present Tense (from their No Code album), is a fitting theme for today’s show. To live in the present tense. But first, as I am wont to do, let me give you the impetus for today’s show.

I’m watching some house hunting kind of show on HGTV, the kind I normally don’t watch – I much prefer the renovation shows. A couple is going through a few houses and in each house one or both exclaim how they could see themselves doing this or that in the space. Says the husband about a basement, “I could see myself enjoying watching games on a big TV down here.” Says the wife of the bathroom, “I could see myself relaxing in that soaker tub.”

Watch any episode of any such show and I guarantee you’ll hear people say similar things. People put themselves into these homes as though they already own them. It’s exactly what sellers and realtors want people to do. Imagine.

It’s a uniquely human capacity – to project ourselves into a future that hasn’t yet happened.

My longtime fascination with how our minds work – or sometimes fail to work – kicked in. Since my books are mostly gone now and the few physical books I kept are boxed up, I looked through my Kindle library – all 718 titles. One problem I’ve discovered through the years – a problem with neuroscience (the study of the structure or function of the nervous system and brain) – is there are plenty of charlatans in the arena. It’s why I’m so firmly opposed to notions about “the secret,” manifestation, and other “be supernatural” admonitions. For starters, they all elevate humans to god-like status urging us to take command of the universe around us, something no human can do. Disguised as accepting individual responsibility they go way beyond that to fool people into thinking humans have a capacity to do the impossible – to merely think something into existence. Only God, the Creator, has that ability.

Years ago I had to learn that the hard way by devoting hours of reading and study to flush out the garage. Sadly, some of the most successful writers are making bank on the desperate people looking for answers that I believe reside in godly faith.

I dive into the Kindle library to re-read some things and get the hamsters on the wheels in my brain running slightly faster. Mostly, I’m running with this thought expressed by a couple looking at houses. “I can see myself” doing this or that. Something they’ve not yet done, at least not in any of these spaces that sparked their imaginations.

Inserting ourselves into unknown circumstances, situations or places. We do it every time we plan a vacation to a place we’ve never been before. We do when we look at a new place to live. We do it when we fall in love. We do it when we go car shopping. We imagine. It’s more than imaging though – it’s envisioning ourselves as already being in that situation. The more we think about it the more clearly we see ourselves in that situation. The more real it feels and if we want it badly enough…the more we see ourselves there – in a future we want.

That doesn’t mean it will become reality, but there seems to be physical evidence that the way our body responds to our envisioning is very similar to the way our body responds when it does become real. It raises the question, “Does our body know the difference between something we imagine and something we actually experience?” It can feel or seem very real because, in our minds, it is. And our body responds accordingly – as though it has already happened.

The couple admiring the house has put themselves in that house mentally. I’d predict that the house that consumes their imagination the most is the house they’ll buy. It became the most real in their imaginations so they marshaled their resources to make it a reality. That feeling they had while first looking at will be replicated when they buy it and move in. It won’t likely last because these things give way to new aspirations, dreams, and desires.

Rather than thinking about the future, I started thinking about the present.

Going through a lot of old business notes, papers, and presentations – during my purging – I had come across a number of presentations about “being present.” Fanatism with customer service drove me to teach, train and impress on people the power of being present with prospects, customers, and clients. Being present is impossible if you’re not focused on the present moment. That person directly in front of you is invisible if you’re mind is elsewhere.

That’s when I wrote down the phrase that serves as the title of today’s episode, Looking Forward Toward The Present.

I started thinking about all the signs of my own distractions. I thought of all the folks I see distracted.

The power of personal computing in the form of our iPhones is the culprit for many of us. “I’m in the moment,” he says, as he scrolls, types, views, and posts. But I’m not sure that’s true. Isn’t he more in the past – looking to see how many affirmations he may have received in the form of likes, or comments? Isn’t he more in the future – posting something he hopes will gain more attention than what he posted half an hour ago? How present is he?

It was about this time that I created this graphic. I had seen that sentence somewhere, and it made its way into my notebook because it accurately depicts the behavior of too many people.

Being present is growing increasingly harder due to electronic distractions, dissatisfaction, and fixating on the past or the future. All the multi-tasking isn’t helping.

All the cultural observations aside, I was focused on my ability – our ability – to look forward to the present for the purpose of being more present. In the present!

Many years ago I read a book entitled Time Wars: The Primary Conflict in Human History by Jeremy Rifkin. Rifkin observes a distinction between analog watches and digital watches. The analog watch has an hour hand, a minute hand, and a second hand while the digital watch has a constant display flashing the current time only. The analog watch provides us with a visual image of the past – we can see what time it used to be – and the future – we can look ahead and see what time is coming. Digital watches don’t provide that perspective. I read this shortly after I bought the book in 1987, 35 years ago. It remains with me today because I thought it was such a terrific, simple illustration. The present matters, but so does the past. And the future…well, the future is very important. That’s where our dreams, ambitions, and plans are.

In 1987 we were about a decade away from the Internet being pervasive. Ditto for cell phones.

Now, in 2022 the world looks nothing like it did when Rifkin wrote and published that book. Our views of time continue to evolve. The irony is that in this digital age, the age of a constant display of the present time, being present seems harder than ever. We’re faced with all the digital displays constantly flashing PRESENT, PRESENT, PRESENT yet we’re struggling to be present.

Go anywhere there are lots of people. Sit down. Keep your phone put away. Keep your head up and just watch. Observe.

“Sure people are present. They’re just watching their phone or checking it for something.”

Being present means we’re focused and engaged in the here and now, not distracted or mentally absent. Are we present or are we mentally absent diving into a digital world where it’s growing increasingly difficult for some to distinguish between that world and their actual physical world?

“People are doing what they want. If they want to be on their phone doing something, it’s great that they’re able to do that.”

The reasoning that our ability to do what we want is always good for us…well, that’s not true. Never has been. Just look around at our bad behavior and habits. We often crave things that damage or destroy us.

Being in the moment is powerful for everybody involved. You hear it when people comment about the great quality somebody has to “make you feel like you’re the only person in the room.”

Redemption. We all need it, especially those of us who don’t think we need it.

Dawes is one of my favorite bands. This year they released a new record which includes this tune, Everything Is Permanent. I’m not sure what the song is about, but it popped into my mind as I was thinking about today’s show. Everything is permanent in the sense that we’re each fully responsible for how we live. It doesn’t mean we can’t repent and repair things, but it does mean we’re without any excuses to behave poorly. The ripples of our bad choices and bad behavior continue, just like the ripples of our good choices and good behavior. Permanency doesn’t restrict our ability to fix things. Sometimes looking forward to the present is doing our part to redeem ourselves.

 

I know it’s a hodgepodge of ideas, but time is a complicated thing. Our place in time is even more complex. So let’s try to narrow things down a bit because we could chase a variety of thoughts and many of them would be worthwhile. As your guide today, I really want to achieve one thing for myself and for you – to help us anticipate being more present right now and to build on that every day moving forward. To find a way to be in the moment so we don’t procrastinate to do what matters most.

In a word, let’s focus on NOW.

Let’s get one idea out of the way. Practicality. It’s the elephant in the room against behaving with wisdom every single day. I’m not going to argue against it. It IS impractical. Maybe it’s even unreasonable to assume we could behave like this. To hug as though it were our last. To kiss as though it were our last. But since we’re exercising our imaginations as we look forward to the present – what if we embraced it even though it’s impractical and unreasonable? What if we decided that our present – our NOW – would be guided, not by what’s reasonable and practical, but by something more valuable? What if we suspended reasonableness and practicality? What would that look like? How would that feel?

Some time ago Rhonda and I started thinking more soberly about the next chapter of our life together. I’m not sure exactly when it began, but we started looking forward to our present. It didn’t feel like our present though. It felt like our future. Then one night – maybe it was over a few nights, I can’t be sure – I started realizing that day after day I was not being nearly as intentional as I had hoped. A vitamin container was the reminder and I realized I had thought of this for years and years. Every single day when I take my morning vitamin. Especially when I take Saturday morning’s vitamin and have to reload the whole thing. I think, “Another week gone.” More specifically, I think, “another week gone and what have I done?”

It’s the ever-present reminder that I’m neglecting unreasonableness and impracticality. I think to myself, “You’re not being as weird as you should be.”

Robert (Bob) Sutton is a Stanford Professor, organizational researcher, and best-selling author. He’s one of my favorites. In 2002 he wrote a book, Weird Ideas That Work. It’s about having a creative workplace. Sutton was speaking somewhere and I went to hear him. Afterward, I ran into him in a walkway and told him how much I enjoyed his work, and I handed him a business card I was using at the time. It was simple, but a weird card with my name, one website address, and a picture of Curly from The Three Stooges on it. He chuckled, thanked me, and said, “Stay weird.” I replied, “I’m trying.”

Many days I’m not trying hard enough. And I’m not talking about weird as in strange or goofy. I mean weird as in not surrendering to practicality or reason when it comes to the things that really matter. Rhonda gets the space in my brain about such things.

People say couples should have a date night. Rhonda and I never have had. In my ideal present, our relationship doesn’t get just one date night. It gets more. Then the practical me kicks into gear convincing me that if every night were date night then no night would be special. That’s weird and not in a good way.

So I rewind and begin to think about how I might define “date night.” Most couples define it as going out to eat, then taking in some form of entertainment. That’s practical. And reasonable. What if I don’t want to define it like that? What if date night had nothing to do with spending money? Or leaving the house? At least, not every single time? How might variety be the rule instead of the exception? What would that look like?

I don’t know ’cause I’ve never done it. That’s the point of this episode. To think about such things – to look forward to the present we most want, or the present we know might be most helpful.

I rewound my motivations and thought back to when Rhonda and I were first dating. I concluded there’s one big – ENORMOUS – difference between then and now. Then, I imposed. It didn’t seem like an imposition though. It was leading and surprising. I was driven to dazzle her. More so than I’ve been in recent years. To my shame.

I have no excuse for surrendering to the notion that I’m bothering her. I used to never think about bothering her. In fact, that was kinda the point – to bother her with pleasant surprises. No amount of head trash stopped me. The fact is, there was no head trash about it. I just did it. Until I slowed down or stopped.

Looking forward to the present gave way to the digital phenomenon of Now, Now, Now! And Now, Now, Now just repeated itself over and over like the movie Groundhog Day. Except unlike Phil was eventually learned to invest in each day to get better, I wasn’t making that investment. I was mostly just doing time.

“You can’t live your whole life like you do when you’re dating,” is a common refrain of practicality. But I began to wonder, “Why not?”

It was 47 ago when I first dated Rhonda. What would dating look like 47 years later – with the same couple, now married for almost 45 of those years?

So I started to think about that and imagine what it could look like. Looking forward to the present. By being bold enough to ask and answer the hard questions.

When we first dated we lived hours and hours apart so we only saw each other sparingly. What would dating look like if you didn’t live miles apart?

We weren’t married when we began dating (obviously). What would married dating look like?

What would dating somebody you’d lived with for almost 45 years look and feel like?

I’m liable to disappoint you with my answers. Being the dreamer I often am, I concluded this answer, “Whatever you’d like it to look and feel like.”

Slowly, I started to recognize my feelings of impositions as the surrender they really were. I mean, who am I? This is a very strong woman, my wife. She’s certainly brave enough, pointed enough and plain enough of speech to express displeasure or whatever else she’d like. She’s compliant, but not a person to be easily put upon. I concluded I’d been selling her short probably due to my own fears of having my ideas or creativity rejected. “What if she doesn’t like it? What if she’d rather not?” On and on when the head trash of ideas, all appearing as though I’d be imposing some unwanted things on her.

I backed my ears after months of misery and mental wrangling and decided I was going to be strong enough to withstand rejection. After all, how else are we going to improve ideas? How else might weirdness become the creativity that changes everything for the better? Besides, if a man is unwilling to risk rejection from a woman he’s been married to for nearly half a century, then what kind of a man is he? 😉

My unwillingness to give it a go wasn’t going to do anything to move anything in any positive direction. Rather, it was only going to serve to waste time. The present.

It proves a few points. One, no matter our age or the length of a relationship, fear still persists. Two, bravery is always needed if we’re going to find a way forward. Three, without a risk of failure there can be no success. Four, if looking forward to the present involves a person you care about, then stop wasting time. Give it a go!

Part of using our imagination is to think about – to dream about – what it might be like versus what it currently is.

Maybe it’s dissatisfaction with the present. Maybe it’s wondering how it might be better. Maybe it’s a bit of both.

Looking forward speaks of the anticipated improvement. We look forward to something that excites us. Something we most want to happen. Something for which we’re happily anticipating. I was looking forward to the present in my marriage, a lifelong habit I’ve had driven by my introspection on how I might be able to step up my game as a husband. And as a father. Now, as a grandfather. But it always starts with who I am to Rhonda.

When things go sideways – as they too often do (and have) – is when I don’t start with that. Whenever I start with who she is, I lose my way. It’s one of those ying-yang things. It’s far more selfish when I start with her and think she ought to do this or that. Whenever my expectations begin with her, not me – it’s selfish. But whenever I assume the responsibility for the outcome – all of it – then my focus goes on judging myself, not her. I become less selfish when I focus on what I should do – or what I could do – to make things better!

What I’ve learned is that if I want my present to be better – if I truly want to look forward to the present – then I must behave more urgently. I need to consider the magnitude of the moment. This moment. This very second.

For me, the biggest component is bravery. Courage.

Taking action at this moment fails every single time I refuse to step into the face of risk. I convince myself not to do it – for a million different reasons, none worthwhile. They’re all just excuses.

Courage is hard. Cowardice is easy.

Do it now. That’s hard. Talking yourself out of it. That’s easy.

Success is in that area where fewer are willing to travel. Failure is super easy, which is why we mostly experience it. Failure isn’t the same as giving it a go, only to discover “well, that didn’t work out as I hoped.” That’s learning. Failure is refusing to give it a go for fear it won’t work out. It teaches us nothing. It just reinforces our cowardice. And our habit of failure.

A quote leaps to mind: “Better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.”

Better to give it a go and learn than to sit back convinced it’s not worth trying. Learning is always worthwhile.

What would life be like if I devoted myself to wooing my wife daily? What would life be like if I dedicated myself more fully to being a man after God’s own heart? What could life be like if I gave myself to looking forward to the present?

I don’t know, but it’s time I find out.

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My first recall of such a thing was likely from watching stories about war. Combat was a popular TV show when I was a kid. It was a show about World War II and aired from 1962 to 1967.

Men would be injured in combat and their buddies would tell them, “Don’t worry. We’re not leaving you behind.” The U.S. Marines have been known for never leaving anybody behind, even fallen comrades. Vic Morrow, as the sergeant in Combat! was awesome as Sergeant Chip Saunders. In 1982 Morrow and two children were tragically and gruesomely killed when a helicopter crashed on top of them during the filming of The Twilight Zone. They were on the ground acting out an escape from Viet Nam. When I heard the news I remembered all the times I was glued to the TV watching Combat!

In 1966 I was nine. I bought my first record – at least the first one I can remember. It was by a Green Beret sergeant, Barry Sadler.

Known for never leaving a man behind, I was fascinated with the Green Berets, likely because the news of Viet Nam was always talking about them. They were among the first Americans engaged in that “conflict.” When you’re a kid and your country is embroiled in a war it’s bound to have an impact. I wasn’t attracted to the guns, the violence, the injuries, or the death. I was attracted to guys working together, heroism, and having such a single-minded focus. The camaraderie fascinated me because as a little kid, I’d never experienced that. Yet. I was in 5th grade when I played on my first sports team, tackle football.

I had never been in a spot where I had to leave a friend behind. On the playground, I didn’t leave a friend behind if I got selected to form one of the teams. That’s as close as I’d ever come to having to decide if I’d leave a friend behind.

When I read this little story – I think I first saw it on some pet website about dogs because I’m on the board of the Westie Foundation of America…and I love dogs.

A man and his dog were walking along a road.
The man was enjoying the scenery when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead.

He remembered dying, and that the dog walking beside him had been dead for years.
He wondered where the road was leading them.

After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road.

It looked like fine marble…

At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight.

When he was standing before it, he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked
like mother-of-pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold.

He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side.

When he was close enough, he called out, ‘Excuse me, where are we?’

‘This is Heaven, sir,’ the man answered.

‘Wow! Would you happen to have some water?’ the man asked.

‘Of course, sir. Come right in, and I’ll have some ice water brought right up.’

The man gestured, and the gate began to open. ‘Can my friend,’ gesturing toward his
dog, ‘come in, too?’ the traveler asked.

‘I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t accept pets.’

The man thought a moment and then turned back toward the road and continued the way he had been going with his dog.

After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he came to a dirt road leading through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed.

There was no fence.

As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book….

‘Excuse me!’ he called to the man. ‘Do you have any water?’

‘Yeah, sure, there’s a pump over there, come on in.’

‘How about my friend here?’ the traveler gestured to the dog.

‘There should be a bowl by the pump,’ said the man.

They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old-fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside it.

The traveler filled the water bowl and took a long drink himself, then he gave some to the dog.

When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man who was standing by the tree.

‘What do you call this place?’ the traveler asked.

‘This is Heaven,’ he answered.

‘Well, that’s confusing,’ the traveler said.

‘The man down the road said that was Heaven, too.’

‘Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates? Nope, that’s hell.’

‘Doesn’t it make you mad for them to use your name like that?’

‘No, we’re just happy that they screen out the folks who would leave their best friends behind.’

Never mind the theological problems of dogs going to heaven or being fooled not knowing where real hell and heaven are. The emphasis of the story wasn’t lost on me – do I want to take my best friends to heaven with me? Better yet, who would dare leave their best friends behind as they journey toward heaven?

I remember seeing a story about a picture entitled, The First Day of Heaven. It was an image that made me stop and think of what that first day might actually be like. Too bad it turned out to be a painting that was taken from a photograph of a women’s rugby team celebration. It’s a shame an image with that title was stolen. 😉

Today is Thanksgiving here in America, November 24, 2022. 

It seems fitting to consider our responsibility to others. All those years perched in front of a black and white TV watching the characters on Combat! grow closer together. Mission after mission Doc, Little John, Caje, Kirby, and the others. They were like a family, always looking out for one another. Over time I’d learn firsthand the power of a group coming together as a team. Supporting and protecting each other.

I wish it had been different growing up. Oh, I was happy to watch this phenomenon on TV. Or to read about it in books. But I didn’t see it firsthand really until I started coaching hockey.

Professionally, I spent years working to bring people together. Forging a purpose worth straining for, I had attempted all my adult life to get people to pull together. Mostly, I had succeeded, but not 100%. My ideal outcome was always to get everybody on board – to leave nobody behind. But there were always a few who just wouldn’t cooperate. Contrarians who would buck anything I attempted to do because they didn’t want to improve or grow. They just wanted to show up to work day after day and do as little as possible. But they almost always wound up doing more than that – sabotaging the effort and I spent a lot of time negating their efforts until I could get rid of them. It’s hard work – the work of leaving nobody behind.

Since it’s Thanksgiving Today let’s start with that – gratitude – because it’s the antidote for selfishness. It’s the remedy for so much more, too.

Refusing to leave a friend behind speaks to our selfishness. More specifically, it speaks to our ability to manage it.

Do you work at managing your self-centeredness? 

How?

For me, it begins with self-awareness. I’m extraordinarily tough on myself. That doesn’t mean I always see things accurately. Nor does it mean I’m always mindful of others. But I do feel fairly capable of catching myself whenever I tend to misbehave. Constantly looking in the mirror when you’re looking for flaws shows increasingly more flaws. 😉

Our strengths become our weaknesses. I’ve never found an exception. I know it’s true in my own life.

I’m a guy who tends to take the blame for things. It’s easy. A default behavior.

Something happens and my immediate thought is, “What did I do to contribute to this?” And I don’t mean when things go well. I mean when they don’t.

Simultaneously I never think of being victimized. It never crosses my mind that I’m a victim of anything other than my own idiocy or foolishness. That’s a good thing. A strength. But it creates one of my many weaknesses to be hard on myself.

My own personal answer was to craft what I dubbed my business philosophy – which is really more of a life philosophy.

For me, it’s about reading situations and people. It’s a heightened sense of noticing that just happens. And that noticing drives my actions unless I’m too in my head and myself that I grow complacent. That’s when my thankfulness wanes and I lean too far into my circumstances.

It’s been said that it’s hard to be great without being grateful. I choose to believe that’s true even though I’m sure there are exceptions. Some great athletes, for example, have proven to be miserable human beings. But for mere mortals like us, folks who don’t have some exceptional athletic prowess – well, speaking only for myself, I lack exceptional prowess in anything so gratitude should be way easier for me, huh? 😉

The list of things for which I’m thankful is long. Exhaustingly long. Spectacularly long.

Back on the last day of August, I posted this inside our private Facebook group.

It was first shared on social media back in February 2019. It had a viral moment. At the time I shared it here inside our little group because it just seemed so perfect.

All the kids touched me, but that kid in the back in a lime green shirt really got me the day I first saw it. His smirk so reminded me of grandson number 3 – and my son, number 3’s dad.

When the photo first appeared I immediately went looking for some evidence to prove it wasn’t contrived or photoshopped. How sad is it that I’m THAT cynical and skeptical these
Nobody ever stepped forward claiming credit for having taken the picture. Bollywood actor Boman Irani shared the picture on his Instagram handle saying, ‘You’re only as happy as you choose to be. A saying that holds true for one and all!! And I’m sure this selfie deserves more likes than most.

I love everything about it. The little girl holding hands with the little boy in the orange tank top. The shoe seems to belong to the little boy in the striped shirt, providing the prop – the make-believe smartphone. The Mickey Mouse lime green shirt, representing “the happiest place on earth,” Disneyworld. The dirt on their clothes. The impoverished surroundings. Their glowing faces, embracing happy imaginations only children can enjoy. Kids, who at least at this moment, are able to smile no matter what. The kid taking the imaginary selfie performing the feat with such confidence and prowess as though he’s done it a thousand times before.

It crushes me every time I see it. Today, it popped up in my memories, forcing me to my knees to pray for these and all little children who grow up walking barefooted on dirt floors while I lament the problems I endure in my grand life. And I feel deeply ashamed.

Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours. I hope all is well, and if it isn’t, I hope you’re able to overcome or endure whatever challenges you face today. I’m thankful for you giving me your time and attention. I’m thankful some of you make Leaning Toward Wisdom part of your life.

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Romans 12:2 “And be not fashioned according to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is the good and acceptable and perfect will of God.”

Mind transformation isn’t just a religious thing, it’s a human thing because God created us in His image.

Genesis 1:27 “And God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them.”

The fascinating thing about this is not that we’re god-like because we’re not. But we are. We’re created in the image of God and I don’t fully understand everything that means, but I can grasp major chunks of what it means. For starters, the entire Creation event shows us the power of God to think in advance. To first see it in our mind. God created the Universe and the Earth by thinking it into existence. We don’t have God’s power so we’re unable to do that physically, but because we’re in His image we can pre-think something before it becomes reality.

In January 2017 The New Yorker published a story entitled, “The Voices In Our Head: Why do people talk to themselves and when does it become a problem?”

The author of the piece mentions literally talking to ourselves. Something some of us do. Others don’t. And neither one makes us any saner than the rest. It’s an interesting article even if it is a bit off-track from how we’re going to discuss the inner voices that each of us do encounter every day.

John Sebastian wrote a song back in 1974, Stories We Could Tell. The opening lines include:

Talkin’ to myself again
and wondrin’ if this travelling is good
Is there somethin’ else a-doin’
We’d be doin’ if we could

Whether your talk to yourself verbally – out loud – or whether you’re talking to yourself silently in your own head…you ARE talking to yourself. Some of us are more verbose in our talking to ourselves than others. Just like we are out loud maybe. 😉

So the issue isn’t whether or not we’re talking to ourselves…but rather the question is, “What are we saying?” And why?

By introducing mind transformation hopefully, you’ll consider – if you’re not already convinced – that barring some challenge (mental illness, PTSD, or some other issue that requires professional assistance) you’re in control of yourself, and equally important, your thoughts belong to you. That means mind transformation is possible. But what is it?

Simply put, it means you can control what you think about. You can control how you think about something. You can control what you focus on and what you ignore. You’re responsible for your own life, first by being responsible for your own thoughts.

Rhonda and I are in the car talking about the choices people make – the foolish choices. Somebody’s infidelity in their marriage was the prompting topic. We discussed how such poor choices happen. I remarked, “They (the unfaithful spouse) think about it, decide they want it, and then act on it. I guess, to them, at least in the moment, it seems like a good idea. Kinda like a person who steals or robs finds themself needing money and immediately they start thinking of who or how they rob somebody. Most of us don’t immediately go to those thoughts. Instead, we likely think of what we might be able to sell, or how we might be able to find a job – or a better paying job.”

“If it is to be, it’s up to me.”

I’ve heard that phrase as long as I can remember. It’s intended, in part, to be empowering. To help encourage us to be proactive. But more deeply it signifies that we have the ability and opportunity to pre-think our lives. We can see our future before it happens. Mentally, we can make it whatever we want. That doesn’t mean it will happen as we think. It doesn’t mean we can think it into existence. Only God can do that, but we are able – as creatures in His image – able to think ahead of time and behave with intentions based on how we’re thinking.

Animals behave with instincts. They act and react based on those instincts. To eat. To rest. To reproduce.

Humans have a capacity to insert ourselves – mentally – into situations we’ve never before encountered. We can run scenarios in our heads and think about possible outcomes. We can THINK. And our thinking determines our actions and behavior.

People love to quote the first part of Proverbs 23:7 “For as he thinketh in his heart, so is he:” – but the verse goes on to say “Eat and drink, saith he to thee; but his heart is not with thee.”

The real meaning of the verse is that the way the man thinks is really who he is. He says, “Come on eat and drink” but he really doesn’t want you to. He’s a hypocrite.

So it’s absolutely true that if we want to be better humans then we must have better thoughts. Life is largely an exercise of our minds. The stories we tell ourselves are very important. They include the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves. And the stories we tell ourselves about others.

Others

I’m going to start with others because through the years of reading and studying human behavior I’ve come to understand that what we tell ourselves does have an external component. Namely, we largely learn how to tell ourselves our own story. And part of that learning comes from others and the things that happen to us. External stuff.

I was in 5th grade. I was also a good student, which meant I made good grades. 😉

He was in my class, but he was constantly in trouble. A class clown who worked overly hard to be funny. Sometimes he succeeded. Many times, he did not.

I can’t be sure, but I think I overheard two teachers talking about how he had been a bad student since the second grade. I remember wondering if he was really a bad student – based on the results he clearly was – or if he was just meeting the expectations they had for him. They had him pegged as one thing and it seemed almost too obvious to me that he was writing the story they had helped craft about him. But what did I know? I was only 11.

Some years later I’d read stories about this very thing though. Particularly in education. A kid doesn’t do very well in a class or during one year of school…and from that point forward, she struggles to escape the gravitational pull of her reputation among faculty. I’d watch and listen to the interactions between teachers and these kids and I’d cringe, thinking how I’d just want to climb under a rock if I was the aim of the teacher’s anger or frustration. Don’t get me wrong. I knew these kids were disruptive and often rebellious. Some were troublemakers extraordinaire. Others were just cleverly mischievous. I never got in trouble in class. Getting in trouble wouldn’t have crossed my mind.

It may have been my first sober thoughts about the stories others tell about us and how we’re able to do the same. We think things about people. Maybe, like my classmates, they’re based on poor behavior. Maybe they’re not based on much of anything. Maybe they’re based on the past, not the present. I’ve lived long enough to know how sometimes I can get it wrong. Things aren’t always what they seem. And people aren’t always what we think.

The 2-way street is in full effect. The stories we tell ourselves about others. The stories we know others are telling themselves about us.

“Don’t listen to what others say. Forget what other people think.”

We all do. To what degree is largely individual. I chuckle at the person who constantly declares how they don’t care what anybody thinks or says. Translation: I’m completely obsessed and fixated on what everybody is saying about me! 😀

I’ve already shown you that I do care what others think because I wanted to please teachers. I don’t want to create enemies. Not intentionally anyway. And I don’t want anybody to think ill of me. Influence and impact are always at the forefront of my mind. I care about the stories people tell themselves – and others – about me.

To the point that I’m paralyzed to do anything? No.

The point that it determines what I’m going to do…or what I’m going to feel or think? No. Never.

But to the point where I consider it…absolutely. Which means I think about it. Sometimes a lot. Other times, not much at all. It depends.

I’m extraordinarily self-reflective. One of my many curses is that I own it, even when it’s not mine to own. It’s the proverbial empathy meter that I’d peg if such a meter existed. Putting myself in the other person’s shoes is easy and natural. I don’t work at it. It just happens. So rather than feeling victimized if somebody treats me poorly, I’m too busy trying to figure out what’s going on with them to cause it. Playing the part of a victim just has never entered my mind as a choice I should consider. Instead, I internalize and can sometimes consume myself with negativity trying to accept responsibility for everything. Sometimes it morphs into blaming myself, too.

I bring that up not to overly share, but to wonder out loud about people who choose to think others are victimizing them. I choose to think of how others can help me correct some misconceptions. How I can engage in questions of somebody and discover more accurately what’s going on with them – rather than just assuming I know. Curiosity has always been my friend.

For the past 6 years or so I’ve worked more diligently at surrounding myself with people who can help me. It’s always been my habit, but I’ve tried to become more intentional about it whereas in the past I was pretty much fully intuitive about it. People make a big difference for us, but the biggest positive differences are made by only the safest, best people for us.

Habitual behavior is repeated. Ditto for our thinking. This is why we have to harness greater control over how we think about others and how we allow the way others think about us to impact us. If those folks who hate us can impact us, then it stands to reason if we surround ourselves with more people who believe in us…we can be positively impacted.

So where are you going to spend your time?

Fretting about the folks who don’t like you? Maybe even hate you?

Or being more purposeful in engaging with the people who encourage you and help you?

We need to pick one and let the other one go because we learn from each other. We tend to reflect one another, too – so we should consider that when we form our circle of friends. 1 Corinthians 15:33 “Be not deceived: Evil companionships corrupt good morals.” We’re deceived when we think others won’t influence us or impact us. “They won’t rub off on me,” are the famous last words of many foolish people.

The stories others may create and tell about us aren’t rumors, gossip, or bad-mouthing that frequent many conversations. It’s how others view us, what story they’re telling themselves about who we are, or who they think we are.

These stories are both important and meaningless. Important because we care about our influence – so we want to have a positive impact as much as possible. If you want to have influence you can’t just live for yourself declaring that you don’t care what anybody thinks. Meaningless in the sense that we can’t let others dictate our story because we’re each our own head writer. That’s not to say nobody else is involved because I’ve got a co-author named Rhonda. But she’s not the head writer of my story, I am. Besides, she’s busy being the head writer of her own story, while I’m co-authoring that story. We care about each other, but not enough to acquiesce our lives to each other – because it’s not even possible. We’re responsible for our own lives and we bear responsibility for how we influence each other, too!

Ourselves

The stories we tell ourselves about ourselves create the story we write – the story the rest of the world sees. Self-talk. Head trash. There are plenty of phrases we use that illustrate how powerful we know the words in our heads are because they provide us with belief.

Robert Duvall plays Hub in the movie Second Hand Lions. It’s the story of 14-year-old Walter, who is sent to spend the summer with his great uncles, a couple of old bachelors – Garth (played by Michael Cane) and Hub (played by Robert Duvall). There’s a poignant line by Hub.

Sometimes the things that may or may not be true are the things a man needs to believe in the most. That people are basically good; that honor, courage, and virtue mean everything; that power and money, money and power mean nothing; that good always triumphs over evil; and I want you to remember this, that love… true love never dies. You remember that, boy. You remember that. Doesn’t matter if it’s true or not. You see, a man should believe in those things, because those are the things worth believing in.

A man should believe those things because those are the things worth believing in.

There’s the rub, figuring out the things worth believing in – because that will determine our story.

That explains why I try to lean into optimism. It’s a choice. Some part of it is my default, natural wiring. I think things will be better. I instinctively try to figure out how to help make things better.

Maybe with every force or inclination, there’s a counterforce or inclination because I also naturally tend to think of all the things that can go wrong. Trapped between these two pulls – optimism and hope versus “well, this won’t work at all.” It gives me a choice. You’ve got your own choices. We all do.

Life is about choices.

Our choices determine our destiny – our story. Specifically, the choices we make in what to believe because our beliefs drive our behavior. What we think matters.

When Walter first arrives at the grand uncle’s rundown farm in Texas he asks if he can go inside the house to watch TV. “Ain’t got no TV,” they tell him. Turns out they ain’t got much that would interest a teenage boy. Hub tells Walter, “If you need somethin’, you’d best find it yourself, or even better, learn to do without.” 😉 We’re busy trying to find it, but Leaning Toward Wisdom is a collective effort toward individual outcomes. Your life, your choices, your story. My life, my choices, my story.

I learned I should believe in optimism when it dawned on me that my time spent thinking belonged to me. Whenever those “what could go wrong” thoughts rose to the forefront of my mind, it felt awful. Depressing. Sometimes in my life, it would drive my feelings of despair. Finally, I realized if I chose different thoughts – thoughts of optimism, it was much better no matter how things turned out.

Like you, I learned about self-fulfilling prophecies in college. It seemed to me that what I was thinking couldn’t possibly determine the outcome of everything – maybe it couldn’t determine the outcome of anything beyond my control – but it could most certainly determine my choices, decisions,  and behavior. And those most certainly would contribute to my outcome. Leaning toward wisdom compelled me to choose what I thought and opt for thinking of the ideal outcome, not the worst!

I’m hardly proficient at the art of optimism, but I’m practicing. After all this time, you’d think I’d have it down by now, but it shows you how hard it is to control our thoughts. Especially when it’s much easier to think or assume the worst. Convincing ourselves of how things might go south is way easier than convincing ourselves how things might work out perfectly just the way we want. In our minds, pessimism seems more likely. Did you ever ask yourself why? Why does failure seem more likely?

Because we can easily remember our failures. They scare us. Mar us. Even small ones.

And we can easily forget our successes. Especially all the small ones. We’re forgetful. Neglectful of the gratitude we should have for the successes. We ought to examine our definition of success, too. Rather than some grand plan coming to fruition, it can be as simple as being able to breathe. Another day of life. More chances to figure things out and get better. More opportunities to be a good influence on others. Enough food to eat. Enough water to drink. Enough clothing to wear. Enough shelter to protect ourselves from the weather. Simple things. Staples of life. All the things we take for granted while we languish over something that seems to matter more, but doesn’t.

Another choice. To be thankful and express our gratitude. Or to focus on our lack, our want, and lament that life isn’t what we hoped. We can choose what we’ll believe. And what we’ll believe in. It determines the story we’ll write.

Things aren’t cut and dried. Rarely are things so binary as to be one thing. We can’t merely think our way toward improvement. Besides, sometimes taking action changes our thoughts and beliefs, not the other way around.

During my years of leading retail companies, superior customer service was the priority. Folks who answered the phones were coached to smile before answering the phones. Callers couldn’t see them, but you can hear a smile in somebody’s voice. It was a fundamental principle of acting the way you want to be so you can become that way. By smiling, people behaved more friendly on the phone. They were more pleasant. It was a simple action we could easily coach and one they could easily practice.

We could have told them to change how they think about customers. Don’t think of them as intrusions, think of them as opportunities. That was certainly preached, but it was just one component of the strategy to deliver excellent customer service. Smiling was a simple behavior people could choose to do before answering the phones.

Weight loss is a multi-billion dollar business. Millions struggle with it. It’s difficult. Desirable but difficult.

Changing beliefs and thinking may not be the path forward to everybody. Some people might benefit from diving headlong into changing their behavior. What if I’m 50 pounds overweight and I don’t fret too much about my thinking or belief? What if I just start behaving the way thinner, more fit people behave? What if I start eating better and exercising more? Over time, my beliefs and thinking are likely to change if I continue the change in my behavior.

So while we’re focused today on the story we tell ourselves, part of that story is how we behave. We’ll be judged on what we do! By God. By others. So what we do matters!

It may be that there are changes in your behavior as simple as smiling that may positively influence your thoughts and beliefs.

Some may think it’s a sappy story, but I loved the movie, Secondhand Lions.

I’d been working on today’s show for weeks when I thought about Hub’s line in the movie. I searched for it on a streaming service and watched it again. It came out in 2003 and I couldn’t remember when I had last seen it, but as I watched it again it reinforced the things I’d been crafting to create this episode. Walter, the little boy, was taught by his two old granduncles what to believe and what to believe in. Even at 14, he had the power to choose for himself. So he did. He took actions that were congruent with those beliefs. We all do.

For Walter, it changed everything. Just as it had for his uncles, Hub and Garth. It changed who he was. It changed how he lived.

It changed the story he wrote.

Watching and listening to old men helped.

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Ebb Dawson, that deep-thinking philosopher character on the old TV series, Green Acres, is the person who uttered today’s profound title.

I’ve loved that line since I first heard it. I have no idea how long ago that was. I was a kid who watched The Andy Griffith Show, Green Acres, F Troop, I Dream of Jeannie, Bewitched, and McHale’s Navy.

An online article entitled – 6 Signs You Can’t Afford Your Lifestyle – prompted me to think about what Ebb said. Let’s see if we agree with the list of signs you can’t afford your lifestyle…because you’re losing (blowing) all your money.

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