Coasting On Memories

Coasting On Memories

“A girl I became friends with on a school trip in high school fell asleep on my shoulders on the ride back.”

“I’m still coasting on that memory.”

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Crimson and Clover and Crystal Blue Persuasion were on the same album. I was 11. It was one of my first and biggest music memories of “my” music…and perhaps it was the first record I wore out. Literally.

RayCharlesModernSoundsInCountryAndWesternMusicListening to Top 40 radio was a constant in the car. At home, the biggest memory and influence was my dad’s 1962 Ray Charles’ record, Modern Sounds of Country and Western Music.

Side one

1. “Bye Bye Love”
2. “You Don’t Know Me”
3. “Half as Much”
4. “I Love You So Much It Hurts”
5. “Just a Little Lovin’ (Will Go a Long Way)”
6. “Born to Lose”

Side two

1. “Worried Mind”
2. “It Makes No Difference Now”
3. “You Win Again”
4. “Careless Love”
5. “I Can’t Stop Loving You”
6. “Hey, Good Lookin'”

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My early music experiences consisted of great rhythm and harmonies. My sister loved The Lettermen and later on, The Carpenters. For me, Ray Charles was hard to beat. For a little kid, not yet a teenager, I was falling in love with music.

The albums were played on a piece of furniture. Homes with music had stereo consoles. stereo console

Junior high brought on a new music-related interest, hi-fi stereo gear. That fueled even deeper and broader interest in records. Tons of music memories have provided a good coasting surface for my life.

Watching the documentary about Ben Fong-Torres, famous music editor for Rolling Stone magazine brought back lots of memories of the 1970s and the music that once dominated my life. But music is just part of the memories I coast on. Words increasingly mattered, and not just the song lyrics. I devoured Ben Fong-Torres’ writing. And Hunter S. Thompson. And Cameron Crowe. Their writing wasn’t like anything familiar to me. Ben wrote about music and musicians. Hunter, well, he wrote about lots of stuff. Popular culture. Politics. I didn’t care that much about the topics, but I enjoyed how Hunter wrote. Crowe, like Ben, he was writing about musicians. I read their stuff regularly adding a new coasting surface for memories – words.

Music. Technology. Words. The convergence of these 3 things happened in the 1970s. The song remains the same.

Memories reflected my future. And my present.

Memories don’t determine the present or the future, but they influence it. Our memories are part of us. What has happened to us helps define us.

The guy coasting on the memory of the girl who fell asleep on his shoulder indicates how something so small can linger for so long…and even fuel us along the way. It’s not about coasting in the sense that we don’t do anything. Not putting any effort into anything. I don’t know what memories you may leverage for coasting, but it did make me think of what memories might be fueling me.

I began the conversation with memories of music because music has accompanied every era of my life so far. I don’t suspect it’s going to stop until my life stops. But I’m not coasting on it. Any of it. It’s not a driving force so much as a soundtrack, a key but minor player in the grand scheme of things.

I started thinking of the memory this guy shared and wondering if I had any such memories. I’m not at a loss for pivotal memories, but I’m not sure I’ve got any single memory that fuels me like that.

One of my first thoughts was about family and faith. And not separately, but how connected they are for me. I’ve long thought that I hit the lottery when it came to being born into a Christian home where I was taught the Bible and where I learned about God. And myself. From grandparents to parents to old men and old women, I was fortunate enough to have great teachers. I didn’t have to go searching for God or the truth. It was handed to me on a platter. I only had to read, listen, learn and figure out on my own whether I’d embrace it or not. It wasn’t about indoctrination as much as it was about exposure. Exposure to the Bible, to read it for myself, question whatever drove my curiosity, and make up my own mind whether I’d believe the evidence or not. I decided to follow the evidence and believe. Then obey.

Today, after years of study, more reading, many more questions, and much more listening, my conclusions have only deepened. While there’s no single moment or memory necessary that provides my coasting, there are countless cumulative memories that do. Memories of training, teaching, instruction, sermons, and conversations.

I always had a girlfriend. I never recall being a boy who went “Eeewww!” about girls. I liked girls. As a little boy, there was nothing sexual in the attraction. I was attracted to some girls for their maturity and intelligence. I was always migrating to the smart (and attractive) girls. Just being honest. But I was also attracted to the lower drama girls, the ones who were more mature. And there was a third component that was really important – fun. The girls I liked most had a sense of humor. They laughed. I enjoyed making them laugh. I used to be pretty good at it. 😉

I remember spending time with girls – not as boyfriend/girlfriend, but just as close friends. Sharing. Laughing. Talking. I was never uncomfortable around them. Mostly, I found them more interesting. Later, I figured it was because my communication style is more aligned. I’m introverted but verbal. The older I got the more crude guys became and most of the guys just weren’t that interesting to me. Only a few were funny – and they were very funny. For me, the smart guys weren’t nearly as interesting as the smart girls. The smart guys were not at all guys I wanted to spend time with because they were mostly awkward. Nerdy.

The memories are less about girls though and more about connection and conversations. Girls just happened to be much better at it, in my experience. Especially at a younger age. Girls weren’t as cruel as guys. Well, not to me anyway. And those “cruel girls” weren’t the kind of girls I spent time with anyway. Girls didn’t have rage either. I learned very early that boys have rage. We have to find effective ways to deal with it, minimize it, keep it in check, and hopefully, extinguish it.

The word that continues to leap to the forefront of my memories of all this is INTERESTING. The girls I spent the most time with were interesting. And interesting has always driven me. My curiosity has never left me, which I suppose, is why I don’t find it hard to be interested in others. For as long as I can remember, I’ve felt that other people were more interesting because I knew (and know) my life. I wanted to know more about their life. I’ve uttered the statement, “I already know what I know, but I want to know what you know” more times than I could possibly count. Or some semblance of that statement.

Here’s the thing about my memories of being interested. If I’m not, I can’t fake it. I may be able to hide it a bit, but I don’t ever try to force it. Mostly, I just try to survive it. 😉

Memories of being interested have always existed. And driven me in ways difficult to explain. Whether it was school or work or play. I don’t embrace apathy. I battle it as hard as anything I face because I hate how it feels. So rather than accept it, I lean hard into alternatives – mostly in finding ways to fuel my interest to counter-balance indifference (or at worst, apathy).

For many years I wasn’t able to fully understand it, but the more I leaned into learning about personality types I found a possible answer. I don’t have a narrow view of personality types. Are there really only 16? Or 24? Or less? Or more? That doesn’t seem likely, but after years of reading, I do think there are tendencies and common traits. Myers-Briggs identifies me as an INFJ-A (Introversion (I), Intuition (N), Feeling (F), Judgment (J) – Assertive (A)).

Laid-BackAssertive INFJs (INFJ-A) are those INFJs that have a more relaxed attitude towards daily occurrences. Both personalities have a dominant introverted function that influences their need to go through situations independently, but Assertive INFJs seem less concerned about adverse outcomes.

Myers-Briggs talks about how this personality type can close the door. Close a chapter. End something. It aptly describes how I handle toxic people, apathy, and maybe other things, too. I don’t dance with apathy. I shut it down by aiming at something that can offset it. It’s got to be in something congruent with the approaching apathy. For example, after years in small business (defined more by how close leadership is with the work rather than size), I grew a bit tired of it and had an opportunity to shift into more coaching than consulting. As indifference for consulting wained, I dug into coaching to make a shift. I never let apathy set in. I deprived indifference of the fuel it needed to grow. As a result, today I’m extraordinarily experienced in business and when the right opportunity fit arrives I’m excited, but I’m mostly given to my higher interest in coaching (helping others figure it out).

Sometimes it doesn’t work that way though. I’ve ended relationships with people who proved themselves toxic and unsafe. It doesn’t have to be ugly, or unkind. But for me, it’s definitive. I sever the relationship and walk away. The hard part for people to understand is what I’m feeling. People assume such decisions are driven by hatred or spite or something else. That’s not how it works for me. It’s never worked that way for me. My memories are all consistently driven by forgiveness (asked for or not, I don’t care because for me forgiveness isn’t something I do for the other person – I do it for myself). For me, it feels much more like closing a chapter that is now over. Done. Finished. So I move on. Forward.

Some people who know me best have expressed curiosity about that, but it’s just how it rolls. I’d love to tell you it’s fully conscious, but it’s not. It feels more like an innate thing. Some years ago I was introduced to the VIA Survey of character traits. We all have them, to varying degrees. We use some a lot. Others, hardly at all. Character traits aren’t like strengths or personality. They are much more stable than that. Harder to change perhaps because they’re who we are. What we can do is know them better, leverage them to our best and shore up areas where we may be weakest. But largely, they’re likely so ingrained into who we are that we don’t even know how or why we’re incorporating them all the time. For me, forgiveness is my number one character trait. That means it’s the trait I use the most. The one I most easily incorporate into my life. I don’t really even think about it. Or wrestle with it like I’ve learned many people do. I never analyze it, weighing why I should or shouldn’t forgive. I just decide and move on. Closing the chapter.

Memories of being that way fuel most coasting and always have. Again, there’s no one moment I can point to but a bunch of ordinary moments. Just an accumulation of lots of instances where it defines who I am.

A third and final thought came to my mind as I was thinking of the guy fueled by the memory of a girl falling asleep on his shoulder. Getting it right. Making it great. I thought of my memories and the memories I may have helped others create.

Do you ever wonder about your childhood friends? Or even friends you had back in high school? How frozen in time you all are to each other. And how you saw kids back in the day when we were all 16, or 17. Maybe younger, maybe older?

Some memories are innocent, but I wonder about others. I wonder about the people who may have drawn some conclusions about me based on the 16-year-old version of me. I don’t feel much different today, but I’m old enough now – and wise enough – to know that I made some foolish choices along the way. Behaved poorly sometimes. It goes way beyond the teenage years. I look back now at myself in my 40s and wonder what negative memories I may have sparked because of my own foolishness.

We can all coast on bad or negative memories as much as we can good ones. In my experience, it can be almost impossible to outlive some negative view others may have of us. I’m not sure what it is in the human memory that enjoys pegging a person at some moment in time as forever being THAT – whatever THAT is – but it seems fairly widespread.

I’ve got a friend who has suffered some major setbacks in life. Some due to his own foolishness. Others due to horrific circumstances of his youth. Still others due to drivers that compelled him to make choices in hopes of gaining the respect of people he sought to please. Like most of us, his story isn’t linear. It’s a long, winding road of decisions, actions and pursuits. A road filled with dreams, goals and ambitions. It’s not the story of a dirty rotten scoundrel. Or the story of an immoral, ne’er-do-well. His life, like mine and yours (probably) is the story of a guy who wanted to get it right but sometimes didn’t. A well-intended guy who proved to be imperfect. Like me. And you.

Coasting on memories compels me to think of how things in our life aren’t equal. Some choices have a bigger impact, creating longer-lasting memories for everybody concerned.

“She married the wrong guy,” says somebody. “He’s just never been good for her.”

“He’s worked like crazy to make her happy, but it’s never going to happen,” remarks somebody else.

Picking a spouse is one of those momentous decisions that carve a bigger memory for people. Get it wrong and it’s as bad as it can get. Get it right and it’s more glorious than anybody can ever imagine. Of course, there are a billion shades between the two extreme memories – and realities.

I know people who happily judge my friend for the memories born of moments here and there. I see it in their eyes. I hear it in their voices. The condescending self-righteous “I’m so much better than you” demeanor that we’re all so capable of displaying toward each other. And I know that no matter now long he lives, or how hard he tries, some folks will coast into the next life with their memories of harsh judgment toward or against him. And I know there are people on the planet who view me the same way. And you, too. I doubt any of us are immune.

But I wonder how many memories I’ve coasted on that I got wrong. Capturing some conversation, or some decision, or some action in a moment in time that may not fairly represent the reality of the person – or even the moment. Just a time I got it wrong, but over time I’ve convinced myself how right I am. Those are the questions that cause me to not coast too much on a memory. Because I know things aren’t always as they seem. Or as I remember them. In this quest to figure it out – working hard to get it right in real time – sometimes we fail. And sometimes we may never know that we failed — because we’ve convinced ourselves that we got it right.

Randy Cantrell

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The Courage To Take A Swing

The Courage To Take A Swing

“Don't be pushed around by the fears in your mind. Be led by the dreams in your heart.” ― Roy T. Bennett, The Light in the HeartLast season I’m watching one of the grandkids play ball. My granddaughter plays softball and both of her little brothers play baseball. I can’t remember which kid was playing, but I noticed a few players who would approach the plate refusing to swing. By the time I’d see these players come up to bat the second time around, it was evident they were hoping they’d get a walk. Stand in the batter’s box, bat perched on their shoulder and the pitch didn’t matter. Low, high, or right down the middle. They weren’t going to swing.

The most quoted quote about such things has to be this one…

You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.              – Wayne Gretzky

At least in baseball and softball, you have the chance of being walked. 😉 No such luck in hockey!

I’ve long been fascinated – puzzled may be a better word for it – by kids who play sports, but are obviously afraid. Watching a 7-year-old step into the batter’s box fully committed to keeping that bat on his shoulder makes me wonder, “What is he afraid of?” Is he afraid of striking out? Is he afraid of looking foolish? Of being made fun of? Of hitting the ball badly?

It’s hard to know what a little kid is afraid of. It’s hard to know what somebody is fearful of because I struggle sometimes trying to identify my own fears!

For months we’ve been navigating our own version of a Little League batter’s box. We made up our mind we were not going to keep the bat on our shoulders though. But we’re not little kids. As two adult, mature (a synonym for old) people – a married couple – we didn’t step into the box until we knew we were ready. When it’s your time to hit, you’d best get on with it and give it a go.

Will we get a hit and get on base? Might we hit a double? A triple? Will we get a walk or strike out? Or…might we hit a home run?

The courage to take a swing is the courage to patiently wait for the pitch we most want to hit and give ourselves the opportunity for any degree of success. There are multiple ways to get on base. Success isn’t limited to just hitting the pitch over the fence in a homerun. That’s the very best outcome, but it’s not the only one. And if we strike out, it’s not final. We can regroup and get back into the box for another crack at success.

So we’re taking our swings…and I’m gonna share a bit of our batter’s story thus far.

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Randy Cantrell

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Re's Retreat, The Yellow Studio Version 3.0 & Our Encore Chapter

Re’s Retreat, The Yellow Studio Version 3.0 & Our Encore Chapter

Marie: My Maternal Grandmother

Oatmeal Cookie Recipe By Re
Oatmeal Cookie Recipe By Re

Bessie Marie Burns was born April 8, 1906, near Sulphur, Oklahoma. She died on February 2, 1982, in Ada, Oklahoma. She despised her first name. Everybody called her Marie, but anybody who really knew her called her, “Re.”

I just registered ResRetreat.com – there’d be an apostrophe if the Internet allowed them. It’s Re’s Retreat. I’ve been dreaming, conniving, and planning for almost 3 years.

I’m still working the controls as deftly as possible to land the plane, but I see the airport. The tower hasn’t yet instructed me to land. I don’t yet have an assigned runway, but I’m optimistic. And hoping I can land before I run out of fuel.

About 4 years ago we booked an Airbnb reservation to a place we had never been. It looked like our kind of place. Lots of trees, mountainous, walking trails, wildlife, serene, quiet. Woods. I love woods.

Best of all, it was just one state away, a 5-hour drive.

Now, four years later, and multiple trips – and a year of podcasting about the place (HSVInsideOut.com) we’re leaning toward making another investment in the place – and in our future.

Three or four years of dreaming. And scheming. To make something happen. Time will tell if we can succeed with our plan. And land this plane.

Podcasting From Inside The Yellow Studio

It started in 2000 with version 1.0. In 2019, thanks to the addition of the Rode Rodecaster Pro – which was made possible by the listeners of Leaning Toward Wisdom during Project: Craving Encouragement – version 2.0 was born. That’s still the version in use for today’s show, but I’m planning to make dramatic changes – Version 3.0. I’m not exactly sure what it’ll look like, but I have some very solid ideas. It’s going to be less of a specific place and more of a here’s-where-I’m-at kind of a place.

Our Encore Chapter: Writing It The Way We Hope Is Best

There are three priorities in our story writing: spiritual (which includes emotional and mental well-being), financial, and family. They’re all intertwined.

Spiritual is number one because eternity changes everything! There are no dead atheists. Every atheist who dies quickly realizes God is real. And Heaven and Hell are, too. If you want to read a glimpse of life after this one, read the story in Luke.

Luke 16:19-31
New King James Version
The Rich Man and Lazarus
“There was a certain rich man who was clothed in purple and fine linen and [a]fared sumptuously every day. But there was a certain beggar named Lazarus, full of sores, who was laid at his gate, 21 desiring to be fed with the crumbs which fell from the rich man’s table. Moreover the dogs came and licked his sores. So it was that the beggar died, and was carried by the angels to Abraham’s bosom. The rich man also died and was buried. And being in torments in Hades, he lifted up his eyes and saw Abraham afar off, and Lazarus in his bosom. Then he cried and said, ‘Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus that he may dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am tormented in this flame.’ But Abraham said, ‘Son, remember that in your lifetime you received your good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things; but now he is comforted and you are tormented. And besides all this, between us and you there is a great gulf fixed, so that those who want to pass from here to you cannot, nor can those from there pass to us.’ “Then he said, ‘I beg you therefore, father, that you would send him to my father’s house, for I have five brothers, that he may testify to them, lest they also come to this place of torment.’ Abraham said to him, ‘They have Moses and the prophets; let them hear them.’ 30 And he said, ‘No, father Abraham; but if one goes to them from the dead, they will repent.’ But he said to him, ‘If they do not hear Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded though one rise from the dead.’ ”

Financial isn’t about building wealth, but it’s about being self-sufficient. It’s about growing older and doing everything in our power to avoid being burdensome to our family. That’s why I’ve talked so much about the power of cash-flowing life – something we’ve always done. And something even more important now that we’re growing older.

Family consists primarily of 9 other humans, 5 of whom are kids – grandkids. And they are grand!

All 3 of these pursuits are interconnected and impossible to separate from the rest. I’m working hard to have the biggest impact possible on 9 other humans. Through LTW and other work, I hope to influence more than 9, but honestly, that’s mostly collateral work. The primary focus is my tribe of 9 people.

Thank you for being part of the podcast audience portion of my tribe. I hope I’m doing you some good.

Randy Cantrell

Randy, Re & Lexie
me, Re, and my sister
Re, up front sitting in my mom's lap
Re, upfront sitting in my mom’s lap (June 1970)

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You Are Not A Tree

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In 1975 Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks broke up. Well, according to the lore, Stevie broke up with him. In his broken-hearted angst, he wrote the song, Go Your Own Way.

But I’m listening to the song the other day and it sparked a different idea – one I’ve long thought. Rather than a breakup song where we’re telling the girl she can go her own way…what if it were a song where we were admonishing ourselves to go the way we most want to go. “You’ve gotta find what works for you.” It’s a common statement, but I’ve found not that many people actually do it. This is why when I heard Lindsey’s song this time – the millionth time or so – I wasn’t thinking of the context he was thinking when he wrote it. I was thinking of how we’re mostly busy comparing ourselves to others and attempting to reverse engineer everything.

Much is written and said about how to do something. We’re busy trying to replicate the success of others. “Hey, look at what they’re doing. Let’s do that.” Then when it doesn’t work we slink away in despair wondering what went wrong. To appease our despair we go off on a new hunting expedition to find somebody else who is succeeding. What we’re really looking for is somebody else to copy. Another subject we can mimic in hopes we’ll achieve whatever success they’re achieving.

“If you don’t get lost, there’s a chance you may never be found.” ~ Anonymous

“Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

“Just because my path is different doesn’t mean I’m lost.” ~Gerard Abrams

Maybe people find it more appealing to find somebody to copy and give that a go rather than looking more deeply inward to figure out the way they should go.

Maybe people put too much emphasis and pressure on succeeding. Maybe it’s a money thing. Or status thing.

Maybe people worry too much about what other people think of them. Or how others will judge them. Am I living in a nice enough house? Am I driving a nice enough car? Do I make enough money?

Maybe it’s all of these things – and more.

As usual, life isn’t so simple. Likely there are so many variables it’d take an MIT-trained mathematician to calculate.

“If you do not like where you are, move. You are not a tree.” ~ Jim Rohn

Maybe it’s time to figure out who and what we are. And who and what we most want to be – while being congruent with the realities of our personality. The core of who we are isn’t likely going to change. For instance, I’m an introvert. I’m not going to alter that, no matter how badly I may want to. There have been many times when I wished I were somebody different, but life has taught me it’s a waste of time and effort.

“Many of life’s failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up.” ~ Thomas Edison

Quitting too soon is a real thing. The problem of course is you don’t really know when you’ve quit too soon. How do you know?

We just have to be sure we’re diving into the correct pool, and giving it our best while understanding there are no guarantees we’ll make it to the other side.

“When you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change.” ~ Wayne Dyer

“A ship is always safe at shore. But that is not what it is built for.” – Albert Einstein

“You can’t reach for anything new if your hands are full of yesterday’s junk.” ~ Louise Smith

I’m not a tree, so I’m moving. Literally. And figuratively. I don’t yet have the details, but I’ll share them when I can.

“What feels like the end is often the beginning.” ~ Unknown

Randy Cantrell

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When Your Son Has Become A Better Man Than You (Happy 42nd Birthday To My Son)

Ryan Cantrell family
When A Son Becomes A Husband and Father

He was born early on Sunday morning, August 17, 1980. In this part of the world, the summer of 1980 still remains historical for record-setting heat. His mom had a miserable summer. Our first child, like all firstborns, was highly anticipated. There was no gender reveal celebration in 1980. It was a better world. 😉

As a first-time dad, I only had two concerns: for my wife and this new child to both emerge healthy and well. In 1980 there was a popular skit on Saturday Night Live, The Coneheads. When I first saw him I knew he had to be the offspring of Beldar (Dan Aykroyd) and Prymaat (Jane Curtin) – not us. The doctor assured me in time his head would appear more normal. Along with his color. He was a red conehead, but I was so thankful he was according to the doctor “normal.” Turns out the doctor was incorrect. This kid wasn’t normal by any stretch. He was extraordinary.

He was full of energy, the kid who never had a bad day. He was more social than either of his parents, making us wonder about those original moments where he could have easily jettisoned to earth from the planet Remulak. But no, he’s ours. Or was, until he surrounded himself with a wife and three children of his own. Now he belongs to even more people. We’ve been proud to share him.

I’ve always watched him closely with admiration. Or frustration. But always with such deep love that transcends my ability of expression.

Proud is the word that best describes how I feel about him today – and every day. Proud because he’s become exactly what I had hoped and worked toward – a better man. And nothing is better for a son or a father, providing the father isn’t some piece of garage character who has set such a low bar that it’s not gonna be hard for a son to be better. That’s not the case with us. I’ve put in the work to be a good man. I hope I am a good man. But he’s better. And I’m happiest knowing that he’s put in the work necessary to be who he is. We just helped guide him on the journey.

Happy Birthday!

I love him. I love his family. I love his mom.

Randy Cantrell

P.S. Follow him on Tik Tok and you’ll see how awesome he is.

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