Latter-Day Generations

"We are the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. What we need to understand is that each new generation is the latest 'Latter Day'" -- Cheryle Jessen

For my blog, I have decided to use something that I have been collection for over two decades - quotes and sayings that have touched me in some way. I carry with me a little black book - not the infamous kind - in which I write these insights down.

Not surprisingly, most of these insights occur when I am at church listening to the addresses given by members of the church. It also includes sayings and thoughts that I have arrived at and, of course, sayings and quotes from Latter-Day general authorities.

But the majority are snippets of wisdom that flow from every-day people - people of faith, hope and charity; people that I respect - people with challenges to face and obstacles to overcome, just like me.

I chose to start with the saying quoted above from my wife, Cheryle. We were talking about how impressed we are by many of the youth today, both Latter-Day Saints and not, and she said that each new generation is the latest latter day. What a wonderful concept!

In the book, Who Moved My Cheese written by Spencer Johnson and Kenneth Blanchard, it illustrates the challenge we all face when things change. Those who accept the changes and find ways to adapt will, once again, find where the cheese is located. This latter day generation has wonderfully adapted to a world filled with change - change that is occurring faster than at any other period of human history.

They are tapping into their "ghost channel" of communication. What this means is that they are able to communicate and understand their world at a pre-verbal level. They have the ability to grasp certain concepts and take the next step with little or no instruction. The catch is that it is only those concepts that they care about that they assimilate to easily.

As humans, we have a quirky attitude that causes us to care about things that others scoff at, and yet are important to us. When we understand why something should be important, as it relates to our world-view, we then care about it. But until that happens, we are apathetic.

So my hope is that the things that I write about will find a connection with you, but if they don't, that's okay. It just means that you are more interested in something else.

Time

Time loves to be wasted
From that waste
There can be no salvage

It is the hardest
Of all waste to correct

Because it does not
Litter the floor

His Finest Hour

D&C 121: 7 - 10 -- "My Son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment; And then if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high; thou shalt triumph over all thy foes."

"This was Joseph Smith's finest hour, his fiery furnace, his fuller's soap. It prepared him for the events which were to come, culminating in the sealing of his testimony in blood at Carthage."  -- Guide at the Visitor's Center, Liberty Jail Missouri, October 1996

Another Day Full of Promise

I know that it has been a long time since I have written in my blog, and I could, as is human nature make several (even valid - a least in my mind) excuses, but that wouldn't really do any of us much good. Let's just say that over the past few weeks, I have received a large dose of wisdom and let it go at that.

Someone once said that the only way to attain wisdom is through wrinkles and scars, both visible and hidden. I must say that I agree wholeheartedly.

I just have to remember that I have to make a choice, probably every day, what kind of day I am going to have. You see, circumstances through which I must pass do not determine whether I am having a good day or a bad day. Probably the best way to explain what I mean is to look at the weather.

Yesterday was sunny and bright. One might say it was a good day - except that it was hot - 95 degrees. Some would say that it was a bad day because it was so hot. Likewise on a cold, snowy day, one might say that it is a miserable day - except for the skiers on the slopes.

It's just the same old adage of the glass being half empty or half full. I choose what I see. And you know what, I've decided that I'm happy to have a glass. What difference if it is half full or half empty? It is in a state of change anyway, either being filled or depleted. The other day, I was at the Brick Oven pizza restaurant, and I ever have to worry whether or not my glass was half full or empty because the waiter kept filling it up again.

Life is like that.

So I choose, and must continue to choose, each day to appreciate the fact that I have a glass - a container for all that I experience; my mind and my soul. Good, bad or indifferent, I am all that I experience and how I choose to process those experiences. I choose to make lemonade.

Life has been challenging - oh, so challenging lately. But it is the only life that I have, so it is good. I will rise to the challenge and prevail - or at least persevere. Because like my glass in the restaurant, things change and time moves on.

So here we are, another day full of promise.

Yabbut the Rabbit

Once upon a time there was a cute, fluffy bunny named Yabbut. Actually, that was his nickname - his real name was Buddy. But from the moment he started talking, his favorite word was "yabbut", and once his friends started calling him that, the name sort of stuck - that's the way nicknames work, you know.

Yabbut wasn't a teenaged bunny anymore. He had a wife and family, and he worked very hard to make things nice for them. Their rabbit home was big, roomy and nicely furnished. His wife had nice clothes,  a nice car and lots of fun jewelry to wear. The kids always had the latest video games and the "cool" stuff to wear. Yabbut felt good about what he was able to give his family.

One day, he got a surprise phone call from one of his high school friends. They hadn't talked in years. Yabbut was amazed that his friend had called, and they had a wonderful talk. They ended with Yabbut inviting his friend to come over to visit for the weekend.

All week long, it was all Yabbut could do to stay focused on work and not think about all the fun he and his friend would have. Finally, Saturday morning arrived. Yabbut got up early and puttered around the yard waiting for his friend. Finally a car he didn't recognize pulled into the driveway and his friend stepped out.

"Yabbut the Rabbit!" his friend called, "you look great!"

"Yeah, but I could stand to lose a few pounds!" Yabbut grinned.

Yabbut shook his friend's hand warmly and was surprised when his friend grabbed him in a great bear hug.

"Come on in!" Yabbut invited as they made their way to the front door.

Yabbut's wife opened the door, and Yabbut made the introductions. "You have a beautiful wife," his friend complimented him. "Yeah but she's a terrible cook," was the reply.

Yabbut showed his friend around the house and for every compliment that he received, true to his name, he would respond with, "Yeah, but..."

His friend, after visiting for the day at Yabbut's house, drove home, and as he did so, he made a commitment to himself to never visit Yabbut again. "That was the gloomiest, most depressing home I have ever been in," he thought to himself.

As the years rolled by, Yabbut found himself divorced and alone. His children never called or came around, and his neighbors avoided him.

If only he had realized that when you say the word, "but", you have just denied everything you said prior that. A comment such as, "I love your home, but the carpets need cleaning," is the same as saying, "I don't like your house because it has dirty carpets."

Don't be a Yabbut the Rabbit. Just smile pleasantly and say, "Yeah, you're right."

Bodies and Temples

As a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, I have a deep and abiding love for Christ and His infinite Atonement. I have, as yet to openly profess my faith in my blog. For this I apologize. It wasn't because of fear, it was because of compassion.

I want to help as many people as I can to be the best person, the best wife, the best husband, son, daughter, mother, father, boss, employee - the best human that they can be, and I don't want preconceived religious bias to create barriers to that purpose. I am not religiously bigoted. I believe that any religion that espouses the characters of man that make him kinder, more loving and more noble in his relationships with his fellow man has truth. Whether it be Islam, Buddhism, Judaism, Christianity or other.

Nevertheless, I can never truly share my insights and inspiration with the world without proclaiming something that has become part of the very core of my being - my faith. I do not believe the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints to be the true church - I believe the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints to have and teach all the truth, with the property authority, necessary for the salvation of man.

You see, I don't see any religion as true or false - with the exception of those religions that would have us reject all religious beliefs - secularism, I guess. I see all religions as having some truth, more or less, depending on what they teach. I just believe that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints has all the truth.

I am reminded of the movie, "Amadeus", which gave an entertaining look - whether accurate or not, I can't say - into the life of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. In one scene he awaits back stage for the Emperor to congratulate him on the opening of the opera Figaro. The Emperor greets Mozart and compliments him on the performance and the piece and then pauses and says, "But... it had, um, what would you say, Court Composer?" To which the man questioned replied, "Too many notes, Your Majesty?"

"Yes," the Emperor exclaims, "that's it. Too many notes. Just cut some of them out and it would be perfect."

Mozart, deeply offended replies by saying, "And which notes would you recommend Your Majesty?"

I love that scene because it affirms that when anyone takes away from perfection, it is no longer perfect, but a reflection of it. I believe that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints teaches all the notes of the gospel. Unfortunately, throughout the history of mankind, truth becomes interpreted by the "learned" and, ultimately, altered - some of the notes are removed.

Martin Luther realized this about the Catholic church in Renaissance Germany, as have many others in other countries. But even then, it doesn't mean that the Catholic church doesn't teach truth - it does - but some of the notes are missing.

Now, of course this is my opinion - my belief - my faith. Whether it is true for you or not is irrelevant to the purpose of this blog. Whether or not you are a Mormon should make no difference to what you feel about the messages I write.

So why bring this up now? Because the message that I want to write is centered around Jesus Christ.

In the King James version of the Holy Bible, Paul asks the Corinthians this question, "Know ye not that that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost, which is in you...?" Because of this and other teachings, many Latter-Day Saints are fond of saying, "My body is a temple." Which it is.

However, many people, not just Latter-Day Saints, take this inborn realization too far. They feel that because their body is a temple that it is them. I saw a video today on You Tube, and the person speaking said, "My body is not me." What a wonderful insight!

In my religion, we believe the temple to be the holiest of our places of worship. So holy, in fact, that in order to enter you must declare yourself worthy to you Priesthood authority. In doing so, you affirm that you adhere to the teachings of the church and strive to keep all the covenants you have made in entering its membership.

Because these buildings are so sacred, we use only the finest materials in their construction. Everywhere you look, you see beauty. It is a peaceful place without loud noises, cell phones or television. People automatically talk in a soft murmur, not wishing to disturb the special peace that the temple gives.

In spite of all the respect and reverence we give the temple, however, we don't confuse the temple with God. In other words, we would never say, "Our temple is God." No, we believe it is a place where we may go to feel of His spirit and be taught thereby, but we don't see it as God.

Why, then, do so many of us that say, "My body is a temple," believe that their body is them? Your body is no more who you are than the temple wherein you worship is God, himself. Your body is a structure wherein your Spirit dwells, where the Spirit of God can enter and where you receive a lifetime (however long or short) of instruction.

Your body, then, does not define you. Yes, you should respect it, love it and take care of it - it is, after all, the only one you get in this life! But it is not you. You are so much more than you see with your physical eye. What is the worth of a man? His body, or what he does with his body?

Reject the message of high fashion and Hollywood. You do not have to have the perfect figure. The figure you have is perfect, because perfection resides within it. I do not mean to say that everyone is perfect - actually, nobody is. I mean to say that our spirits have the potential to be perfect - otherwise a member of the Godhead - the Holy Ghost - would not be able to enter in.

Rejoice in the body you have - warts and all. Do not feel that you have to live up to the expectations of the world. Live only for the expectations of your spirit. Because you are the miracle.

The Upside Down Turkey

Before we begin, I must first apologize to my lovely daughter. This story is about her, and while it may at first seem a Greek Tragedy from the writing of Sophocles, himself, it is, in fact a story of humor, sadness and ultimately, life.

For Mother's Day this year, my daughter invited the whole family over to her apartment for a turkey dinner - her first. Meaning, the first one that she cooked herself. Of course, as any new bride (she's only been married 11 months - and some few days), she was nervous of the outcome.

Never having cooked a turkey before, she wanted lots of advice - not from Mom, but from me. Not because I am a consummate turkey-cooker, but because she didn't want to pester Mom on her day. I'm okay with that. After all, I have cooked a few birds in my life.

When we arrived at her apartment at the appointed time, my daughter's voice called from the kitchen, "Dad, can you come check my turkey for me?" When I entered the kitchen she said, "I've had it cooking for almost four hours, but I don't know if it's done yet."

I lifted the top off the counter-top roaster and looked in. The bird was still white! "Ummm, Sis?" I began, "What temperature do you have this set on?"

"I don't know for sure; the knob's broken off."

"Okay. Uh, this bird is nowhere close to being done."

"Are you serious?" She cried in dismay. "What am I going to do?"

"Let's see if we can turn up the temperature and get it cooked," I replied. I grabbed some pliers (the knob connector was hot) and turned the temperature up considerably.

"It was supposed to be done when everyone got here," she said dejectedly. "Now everything else is going to be cold, and everyone is starving, and..."

"Hold, on," I interrupted. "Let's just see how it turns out. Besides, it will give everyone a chance to visit for a while."

In just a few minutes, the smell of a cooking turkey filled her home.  After about an hour, I checked it again, and sure enough, the skin was a golden brown. "Is it done?" my daughter asked anxiously.

"It looks like it," I responded, looking all over the bird for the pop-up timer. Not finding one, I asked, "Do you have a meat thermometer?"

"No. Now what?"

"Well, did this turkey come with a pop-up timer? Because I don't see it."

"It's on the bottom."

Suddenly I realized why the entire turkey looked funny (odd) - which I didn't want to mention to my daughter for fear of hurting her feelings. The turkey was upside-down!

"Uh, it's upside down," I told her.

"Are you serious?!?" she wailed, loud enough that everyone in the house heard her.

"What's wrong?" asked her mother.

"I put the stupid turkey in upside down!" my daughter cried, running into my wife's arms.

"Oh dear," my wife said. "That's okay. I'm sure there's plenty of food for us."

I thought to myself, "Well, I might as well carve it up. I might be able to salvage some of the meat."

I pulled the bird out of the pan, and the breast looked... well, like the back of most other turkeys look - sort of wet and slimy. I put it on the cutting board and starting with the legs, I started to carve the meat. Now, you can't just carve a turkey without sampling here and there. Almost without thinking, I popped a morsel of dark meat into my mouth. HOLY COW! It was AWESOME! The flavor was wonderful. Whatever seasoning she had used was fantastic. The breast was moist, flavorful and delicious in every way.


I called her in. She entered the kitchen, shoulders slumped, head down with a look of total defeat on her face. "Now what?" she asked sadly.


"Here," I said, handing her a piece, "taste this."


"Why?" she asked as she put the morsel in her mouth. No sooner than it had touched her taste buds, her head snapped up, her eyes grew wide and she exclaimed in quiet awe, "Wow! That's good!"


"I know," I said. "Well done. Well done, indeed!"


Her turkey, although not presentable as a picture perfect bird, was one of the juiciest and tastiest that I have ever eaten. All who were privileged to partake of that meal were well satisfied and heaped praises on my daughter - which she richly deserved.


And here is the miracle. In life we all have turkeys that we have to deal with. Some we conquer and know within ourselves that we are triumphant. Others, however, we feel have conquered us and we want to turn away, head down and shoulders slumped.


Often, it is just seeing it through to the end that makes all the difference in the world. Had we just thrown my daughter's turkey out because of a few mistakes along the way, we would have missed out on a wonderful feast. Fix your eye unblinking on the outcome you desire, and often, although it may not be as planned, you will enjoy the success you desire.

Stairs

Yesterday I had to walk up the stairs at the office to get to work. There's nothing unusual about that, since it's something that everyone at the office does - every day. What was unusual for me was that it didn't hurt.

After my accident, I was in a wheel chair for about four months, and therefore had to take the elevator. After the wheel chair came the crutches and then the cane, and finally, walking unassisted. This took about 3 more months.

When I graduated to the cane, I thought that I might try the stairs - you know, push myself. After about 5 steps (there are 18), I stopped and thought to myself that I had made a terrible mistake. I was already winded, and I couldn't even step up with my right leg. The journey was step, shuffle - step, shuffle - step, shuffle. I was late getting to my desk, and panting like a racehorse with beads of sweat glistening on my forehead. Okay, it was glistening all over my head, since I don't have a lot of hair on top - but you get the point.

The next day I walked in the lobby doors and looked at the stairs. Shuddering, I started toward the elevator - but I stopped. How was I ever going to be able to climb any stairs ever again if I didn't keep trying? With a groan (yes, I actually groaned), I went back to the stairs.

Mustering my courage, I put my right foot on the first stair and pushed down, lifting my body up. Pain shot through my leg and knee, and I thought I might fall - I pushed anyway. I had to - I was halfway up. Wisely, I clutched the banister and used my arm muscles as much as my leg. That was the only stair I could handle with my right leg - that day.

So far, I have only told you what it was like going up. Going down was a nightmare. Not only did it hurt - possibly more than going up, but I could see all the way down the stairs to the bottom floor, and I knew that if I made a mistake, I was in for a world of hurt.

I admit there were days when my courage failed me and the elevator seemed like a blessing. But for the most part, every time I thought about taking the easy way out, I reminded myself that I would never win that way.

It has taken about two and half months of going up and down those stairs - as well as stepping off curbs and going up and down every set of stairs that I came upon. And now, yesterday, for the first time, I climbed the stairs - and came down them after work - pain free. I actually went down as fast - well, almost as fast as my co-workers.

I remember my wife the first time she saw me descending the staircase after work. Her first demand was, "What do you think you're doing?" I explained that I needed to do this if I ever wanted to be able to make it up and down the stairs. "Well, you make sure you hold onto the rail!" was her reply. I still do.


See, the other thing about pushing ourselves is that sometimes, even though they have the best intentions of keeping us safe - they don't want to see us get hurt - our loved ones hold us back. I love my wife dearly because she understood and didn't hold me back. I know that she worried - for a while at least - every time I went up and down any set of stairs. But she knew that I needed that challenge.

In life, we are faced with stairs everyday, and usually, there is an elevator waiting off to the side that will help us avoid the pain and difficulty of the stairs. Please take a moment and ask yourself which is really the best for your progression - which is going to make you the person you wish to be?

Some days, it will be the elevator. When I went back to work, it was the elevator for me until I was walking without support. But some days you will realize that perhaps instead of just going to the elevator out of habit, the best thing, really, would be to climb the stairs. Even though it hurts.

Remember, there will come a day - I don't know when - but there will come a day when it will be pain free. And the greater news is that you will be able to reach new heights by climbing your own personal staircase. And that is miraculous.

It's Okay to Try

"There is no sin in failing. The sin is in not trying." - Paula Deen

This sniglet of wisdom was preserved by my wife. So many books have been written with the basic theme of "Do or do not - there is no try." They use the analogy of the pen: put a pen down on the desk. Now try to pick it up. Did you pick it up? I didn't tell you to pick it up, I told you to try. Put it back down. Try to pick it up. Did you pick it up? No? I didn't tell you to leave it there, I told you to try to pick it up. They use this as an example of the impossibility of try. What they miss with this analogy is the power of intention.


Intention is everything. If you never intend to pick the pen up, it will forever remain on the desk. If you intend to pick it up - and fail, what then? Well, that depends on your intention. You see, the example cited above rests upon the belief that your intention is to pick up the pen, no matter what. But sometimes, our intentions change.


Many would cry out that changing your intention is failure. I disagree. For most of us, when we change our intent, it is because we have become aware of a higher intention - one that is more important than the one which we have let go.


For example, my son just graduated from BYU with a BA in Japanese. That wasn't his first major. As is the case with most college students, he started in one field and changed to another. Does that mean that he failed as a music major? No. It means that after trying the music major program, he realized that there was something else for which he had more drive, desire and intent - learning and mastering Japanese. His higher intention was to graduate in a field that he loved, not to never give up.


Okay, maybe I'm splitting hairs. But it really bothers me when I see so many people not even make an attempt at something because they are so afraid of failure! Most people would rather leave the pen on the table rather than give it a shot and see if they like holding a pen instead.


It's like the old story of a person who goes into Baskin Robbins 31 Flavors Ice Cream store. The clerk asks what they want, and they say vanilla. The clerk points out all of the other wonderful flavors and then asks the all-important question, "Would you like to try a sample?" The customer says, no, I just want vanilla. The clerk then asks, "Have you ever tried anything but vanilla?" to which the customer replies, "No, I just like vanilla."


Now most of us will take all the free samples we can get! Why? Because it is in sampling and trying new things that we either discover that for which we are best suited, or we reach a firmer conviction for that which we have already chosen.


I was talking with a co-worker yesterday. He has lived for several years in Austria and Germany. On a whim, I asked him what his favorite German food was, and he replied sauerbraten. I shuddered. "I hate that stuff," I said. He replied, "Have you ever tried it?" I said, "Yes, three times - and I didn't like it, not matter what was poured over the top of it!"


See, if the customer in the ice cream shop had replied to the clerk that they had tried many flavors and were willing to try another and then, in spite of it all, still chose vanilla, one would say that the person had made the best choice for them.


There is no sin in starting college and never finishing. College isn't for everyone. There is no sin in starting college, dropping out for 20 years and then finishing in a completely different major. The sin would be in saying, "I would like to try college," only to have someone say, "Do or do not, there is no try," thereby scaring the would-be college student away because they feared the possibility that they would fail.


There is no sin (and therefore no shame) in failure. The sin is not trying. Without experimentation, we never experience life.

A Life Unexamined...

One of the most famous sayings by Socrates is, "An unexamined life is not worth living." Or so we are told, since Socrates himself didn't write anything. I agree completely. However, I also believe that a reflected image of that statement is equally valid: A life not lived is not worth examining.

We, as a society already accept this as fact. Do we bother to examine or emulate the lives of those who live out their lives without the spark of life - those who breathe and function, but who do not live? No, we only reflect upon and study the lives of those who have lived life and left a legacy.

This doesn't mean someone who is famous, or even important. But they lived for more than just being alive. One great example is Joshua Terry, one of my wife's ancestors. Let me share with you some of the ways that he lived.

Joshua Terry was converted to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and at the age of 22, made the trek across the plains of the United States to the Salt Lake Valley. Just out of his teens, he walked - not rode - over 1500 miles - because of what he believed!

He later became a pioneer to Idaho and Wyoming. Along the way, on freezing in a storm he found shelter in the hollow of a coffin shaped rock. Later that night, he was visited by a bear which crawled in for shelter as well. The two slept side-by-side, and their shared body heat kept Joshua alive. In the morning before daylight, the bear left him unharmed.

Later, he was found almost dead from starvation by an old Indian woman and her son, who nourished him back to health. During his recovery, the young Indian brave spit in Joshua's ear, saying that he hoped that someday Joshua would come to understand their language.

Upon reaching Wyoming he became fast friends of the famous trapper-explorer, Jim Bridger. Bridger. One day, not long after, Joshua was out on the range, hunting horses to tame. As he stood on a hill scanning the valley below, he heard a great rushing sound and turned to see that he was surrounded by Indian warriors.

They took him captive and decided that they would scalp and burn him. In preparation for the event, the Indians danced around him with frenzied voice, throwing their tomahawks at his head. At the height of the "festivities" one brave, the leader of the war party, drew his knife and advanced on Joshua, prepared to take his scalp.

Just then, another band of Indians was seen coming around the hill. The chieftain of this band was none other than the young brave who had spit in his ears years ago. The young chieftain went into council with the other warriors. He was finally freed from his bindings, but was imprisoned in one of the tents under close guard. During this time a young girl had the task of bringing him food and water, and they became friends.

Her and the young chieftain told Joshua that the Indians were planning to attack the Mormons. They told him that he was to warn Brigham Young, and that he only had a few moons to get to Salt Lake City and back. Alone and on foot, he was sure he would never make it in time. But, halfway along the way, there was his Indian friend with horses and supplies.

He made the journey in time, and the message he brought back to the Indians from Brigham Young pleased them so much that they gave Joshua his freedom and a short time later he married the Indian girl. One time, he was bitten by a rattlesnake and not expected to live. In grief, his wife ate a poison root because she didn't want to live without him. She died, and he recovered to go on alone.

Such is a life worth examining. With all of his wanderings and difficulties, many in this day and age would call such a man a vagabond and worthless. However, nobody can deny that he lived. He did what he thought was right and pushed through great difficulty along the way.

Living life means that you look forward with hope and faith from one day to the next. You accept the challenges that come your way as part of being alive. You face them as best you can, and you do the best you can do. Sometimes, this isn't good enough - Joshua couldn't save his Indian bride. Other times, it contains the seeds of greatness.

Joshua later became a leader of the community of Draper, Utah and his son became Mayor and later the most respected man in South Salt Lake County. His house still stands today as a visitor center and historic site.

The unexamined life may not be worth living, but the life unlived is certainly not worth examining - with the exception of examination for the prospect of change. This is the miracle that all of us can enjoy - the ability to change.

Yesterday I watched my son walk across the stage at  BYU's Marriott Center to received his diploma. During that ceremony, a young girl in her twenties also walked across the stage to receive her diploma - followed by her mother who also received her diploma! It is never too late to do that which you have always wanted and desired to do.

Live life. Love life and be worth examination and emulation.

Younger Generations

I was walking through the mall yesterday and saw an advertisement above a soda vending machine from Pepsi which read, "Every Generation Refreshes the World". The words - not the advertisement - resonated with me. Every generation refreshes the world.

With the birth of each new child, the world is refreshed because humanity is renewed. When a newborn first opens her eyes, she sees the world with a fresh perspective. When a toddler takes his first steps, he his making strides in a new direction.

Each new generation sees the world into which it was born, and at some point asks, "Is this all there is? Isn't there a better way?" And then they go to work to find it.

We live in a day and age that is faced with monumental challenges. The world is in upheaval, physically - earthquakes, storms and tsunamis; morally - freedom of choice has become confused with freedom from consequence; and financially - entitlement and instant gratification have pushed economies to the brink. And yet the up and coming generation sees these challenges and demands, "There must be a better way!"

Often, it is us, the older generation that get in the way of our younger people. Yes, we must give guidance and direction. Many would say that we must set boundaries. I suggest that we should explain the need for boundaries both in word and example, and allow them to set boundaries for themselves. In other words, help them understand that if they cross certain boundaries, the consequences will be beyond their control and will have disastrous results.

We must allow them to fail when failure will not have lasting consequences. They need to learn that through failure, they discover the path to success. It is when we shelter them so much that we limit their horizons that they learn to live in fear and hate.

Fortunately, technology is making it easier for youth to learn for themselves what the consequences of bad (and good) choices will be. They learn from the mistakes of others and from the lives of our own generation.

There are those who feel that the up and coming generation is a sign of the end of humanity. I say that it is a bright and shining example of renewal and refreshing change. Because, after all, every generation refreshes the world.

Technical Malfunction - Or User Malfunction - Take your Pick!

I apologize for the lack of any new posts lately. I have had some technical difficulties which I hope will be solved soon. I actually had just about completed posting a new - full length blog today and with one misplaced finger on my keyboard, it disappeared. I will have the blog reposted tomorrow or the next day. Thanks for hanging in there with me!

Reflections in Other People

My wife and I were watching Undercover Boss last night. It is a TV show wherein CEOs, COOs and Presidents of major corporations go undercover, posing as an entry-level employee in their own firms to see what it is like to work for the company.

The COO that was presented last night said something after having a very moving experience with one of his employees that was golden - so I wrote it down. And then I realized that I have a gift. I would guess that 99.999% of the people watching that show heard the same words that I did, but failed to immediately understand how important they were. That is my gift. I have the ability to quickly recognize and assimilate those little comments that people make that are profound - even when they are not aware that what they just said was profound.

I thought that everyone could do this. But over the years I've come to realize that most cannot. It may be because they are not looking for these nuggets of wisdom. Or it may be that they are listening with their ears only, and not with their hearts.

The statement that he made was, "It's a real irony of life that you learn so much about yourself from other people." What an incredible statement! And he just said it in passing, almost as an afterthought. That might be what happens to a lot of us. We are so concerned about saying the right things that the important things are afterthought.

It is true that you learn much about who you are and what your values are from other people. Our thoughts and feelings respond to the thoughts and feelings of others that are in harmony with us. And it doesn't take anything away from us - it only adds. Like two candle flames placed close to one another. They merge and make and even brighter point of light. And yet each is still individual and distinct. The Korean people have a saying to explain this phenomena, "Im Shim Joem Shim" - "Spark from heart to heart".

This is another way of saying that our inner world is reflected in our outer world. Or that our outer world is an indication of our inner world. The inner creates the outer - not the other way around. Because our inner world defines us and makes us who we are, it seeks out and finds those whose inner worlds correspond to ours. If our inner world is filled with bitterness, fear and doubt, then we will inevitably attract others into our lives who have the same things going on inside, and suddenly, our outer world is bitter, fearful and full of doubts.

When we are filled with love, faith and hope, then we attract others into our lives who have the same feelings, and our outer worlds reflect this inner light. This does not mean, of course, that we will not be burdened from time to time with trails, difficulties and even tragedies; they are all part of the great human experience. However, when faced with these challenges, because we have love, faith and hope, we rise to the occasion and our best self is revealed.

Does that mean that we will always conquer? No. My wife still deals with stomach and digestive problems. I still walk with a limp. But both of us do not let what we are experiencing define who we are. We let our inner worlds be filled with all that we desire, and even when faced with trials, we feel that we can, eventually, overcome. It may not happen until we leave this life, but we believe - we have faith - that it will do so.

Yes, it is a great irony in life that we learn so much about ourselves from other people. And yet, it is a great blessing that we do. When we see ourselves mirrored in the lives and expressed beliefs of others, we can either accept what we see or seek to change it. And change comes, not by attempting to change the image that the other person has projected on us, but by changing ourselves so that the mirror of other people reflects that which we value and desire.

If there are those in your life who are reflecting negativity at you, look inside yourself and find that which is negative. Get rid of it. When you do, your attitude and countenance will change. When that happens, those who wish to continue to cling to their negativity will depart from you, and you will let them go with love and hope for their future. You will not hold ill-will, because you will have changed your inner world in such a way that you can let go without hurt, because you will no longer be trapped by fear.

Nothing is Everything

Nothingness, empty space, everything that isn't anything - defines everything else. Have I lost you yet? Okay, try this: Nothing is Everything. No? Perhaps I should explain.

In your minds eye I want you to picture a vase. Now consider the material of which it is made. Perhaps it's crystal, porcelain or glass. Now smash it with a hammer - is it still crystal, porcelain or glass? Yes. Is it a vase? No. You see, what made it a vase was not the vase itself, but the emptiness inside the shape of the vase.

One could argue that it is the shape of the vase that defines it. True; but only when that shape is filled with nothingness. If it were filled with vase material - crystal, porcelain or glass - it would be a very heavy paperweight.

Okay, here is another example. Music. If you were to ask someone what makes music... well, music, they would most likely say the notes. However, they would be wrong. What makes sound into music is the silence between the notes. One, never-ending, sustained note - or chord - is not music. It is noise.

It is the invisible, the intangible and the untouchable that makes everything what it is. Consider a dollar bill. The only thing that gives it value is something that you can't touch. Because the only thing that gives any money value is what can be done with it.

And the same is true for all of us. We are not defined by our flesh - warts and all. We are defined by our souls, our minds and our spirits. When I see how strongly society wants to define and give worth to someone by how they look and what they where, I shudder. Worse yet, I cringe when I see others accept these definitions and ideas as true.

Some time ago my wife was watching a reality show - man, those things are everywhere! This show was called (I think) Real Beauty. It was a beauty contest wherein the contestants were brought in to compete for the title "World's Most Beautiful Person", and the winner would receive $100,000 and have their photo in People Magazine's "100 Most Beautiful People" edition.

I don't like that edition. Why? Because the only people that they feature are those that are judged to have the perfect physical appearance. However, the reality show had a fun twist. Each week, the contestants would be faced with a moral dilemma and they were judged, not on their physical appearance, but on how they showed moral courage, kindness and compassion. I thought that was pretty neat - the contestants who were booted out each week were told of the real purpose of the contest, and it was amazing how many of them had attitudes of, "Well, I don't care what you say, I am the most beautiful person in the world - I have flawless skin, a perfect body...." blah, blah, blah.

Of course, none of the contestants were overweight, had acne or were going bald.

As humans we tend to judge ourselves much too harshly. If someone has a pimple on their forehead, they judge that entire pimple as what they look like - and then compare it to the whole person standing next to them. We all have a desperate need to be accepted. Please know that you are accepted - warts, pimples, bad breath and all. You are the perfect you. Why? Because YOU are not your body.

You are the invisible, intangible and untouchable that resides within your body. Look at all of the homes in your community. Are all of them the same size, shape, color or layout? Do they all have the same landscaping? No, of course not. But it isn't those things that makes these houses into homes. It is the people who live in it - their hopes, dreams, fears, successes and failures that make a house a home.

And here is the miracle. When what is inside the home is good, loving and supportive, all those who reside therein love their home. If all that is inside of you is good, loving and supportive, all those who reside therein will love you. That means you and all those whom you carry with you in your mind, heart and soul. They all love and accept you - warts, pimples, bad breath and all.

You are not the mortal expression of your current state. You are the immortal being that is currently experiencing mortality. And what an experience!

Be all that you can be with who you are. Love your invisible self. It is everlasting and grander than anything you can imagine. After all, it doesn't have to worry about pimples, a few extra pounds or hair loss.

My Friends

I recently bought a book and read of a fascinating true-life experience. Imagine my surprise when the author spoke of his wife, calling her by name - and it was a name I recognized. I said to myself, "Self, do you really think that there are two people who have that same unique name?" To which myself replied, "I doubt it, look in the back at the author's profile and see if it reveals anything." So I did, and sure enough, it was the same girl I knew in high school.

No, she wasn't my girlfriend, although, at the time, she could make my heart go pitter-pat. She was the head cheerleader. And unlike the spiteful shallow, vindictive and competitive harpies that are portrayed by Hollywood, she was very nice. She was nice to everyone - even me.

And that got me thinking back on how many people have touched my life and left a lasting impression. Some of these people are still very much a part of my life, others have passed from the stage of interaction with me. But all have played their part, and now they are a part of me.

I suppose one should wonder if they would remember me as well as I remember them. But it's not important to me. I don't care if they remember me, because their memories are just that - their memories. They don't hurt me or help me in any way. I am content to let them have and enjoy the memories that they cherish. I will keep mine for me.

All of us interact with others and each soul that we touch is likewise touched by us. It is in this interaction that we can come to know more fully who we are. Because, you see, it is that which we admire in others that defines who we are striving to become - or who we have already become.

I remember this cheerleader because, at the time, she represented a good person to me; one who accepted others as they were without judgment and bigotry. And, SURPRISE! That is one of the traits that I still strive for; one that I hope defines me.

I remember another person that has influenced me, although I have never met him, because he was such an influence on my wife. I feel that I know at least part of him. I know his right arm. KIDDING! No, what I mean is that my wife talks about his abundant sense of humor, and how he was always the one who could make others laugh. His name was Scott. I first "met" Scott - or a least his memory - on the day he died.

Many years ago, my wife received a phone call from one of her high school friends telling her that Scott, who had been diagnosed with cancer shortly before, had passed away. My wife cried and shared with me many memories of this red headed class clown. She told of experiences that she had watching and interacting with him. Not all were positive - evidently, he could be mean. But these memories were muted and filtered by time.

All of us are like pebbles in a pond, and the ripples we create as we move through this life can be far reaching. Think back over your lifetime and pause for a moment to reflect on those whom you have admired and liked. Not only will you feel the same warm glow that you felt when you first interacted with them, but you will rekindle your desire to acquire those same traits. If these traits are now a part of who you are, then they will be reaffirmed as being right for you.

It has been said that we, as humans, are the sum-total of all of our experiences. I disagree - sort of. I say that we are the sum-total of all of our experiences and the relationships we have with others. Because, you see, these are the only things we take with us when we leave this life - our memories and our relationships.

Yes, our relationships. If we recognize another person in this life and we enjoy their company, then how would it be possible for us to not recognize them in the afterlife? That doesn't make sense! And if we saw this person as a friend and a companion in mortality, why wouldn't we do likewise in eternity? The answer, of course, is that we would.

And that is where forgiveness can make eternity a heaven or a hell. There are, inevitably, those who have hurt us in this life - either through purposeful intention or by accident. It doesn't really matter. If we see this person as "the enemy" - someone to be hated and feared, then how will we feel about them in the eternities?

Forgiveness allows us to let go of the hate and find compassion. We let go of the anger, the hurt and the fear and we feel sorry for them. Not in a condescending way, but in a manner that makes us want to reach out and help them be a better person. We may never see this person again - ever. But because we no longer have hate in our hearts, we can feel love - we can be love. And that is the way I want to spend my eternity - filled with love.

Ahh, memories. Like fine wine, they get better with age. My friends from long ago visit me in my memories and (sometimes) in my dreams. We laugh and play as we did then, and I am filled with the enthusiasm and life of my youth. What a great gift these people have left with me, all unintended, that can lift my spirits and make a rainy day seem like an adventure rather than a chore.

Everyone Complains About Getting Older

Everyone complains about growing older, but it's a whole lot better than the alternative!

Admittedly, I am only 46 years old. Now for those of you in your twenties, you're saying to yourself, "Only?" But those of you who are in your sixties, you understand what I am saying. I am only 46 years old - and getting older. And here's the miracle - I don't mind. In fact, I enjoy it.

Here's why. When I was in my twenties, I enjoyed a healthy body, stamina, strength and the ability to push my physical body in any endeavor. I had no wrinkles and all of my hair. But I lacked several things that make getting older a much better trade-off - I got the better end of the deal.

In trade for all of those physical attributes I gained a wife, two children, two in-law children and wisdom. A person's intelligence has much to do with their DNA, their upbringing and their schooling. But one can acquire wisdom in only one way - to grow older.

When I was younger, I was full of fire and vinegar, but I had some rather common fears. I feared, above all, growing older and death. I was afraid that I would die young and leave no legacy - no children behind to carry on my personality. Ironic, isn't it? The thing that would wake me up in a cold sweat is now the thing that I am celebrating - my age!

I have lived. That's what you get when you grow older - a life. You get to live. How you live is up to you, and everyday gives you a brand new start on the path you choose to walk for the rest of your life. You live and you learn. And you gain wisdom.

My son is a genius. Now I know that a lot of parents say that about their kids. I am not bragging - I am stating a fact. When he was 5 years old, my wife and I were called by the elementary school and asked if we could meet the next day with the principal of the school. Now no parent wants to get that kind of a call, but the secretary assured us that it wasn't because my son was in trouble.

When we arrived the next day and entered his office there were four school administrators waiting for us, and the first thought that went through my mind was, "What did that kid do?" After we were seated, the principal thanked us for coming and turned the meeting over to my son's teacher.

She asked if we were aware that our son could read. Of course we were aware - we taught him how to read. Then the school reading tutor asked if we knew at what grade level he was reading. I looked at my wife and her eyes questioned mine. No, we replied, we didn't know. She then stunned us by reporting that after several tests, she could show that he was reading at an 8th grade level. He was 5 years old!

Then the other administrator spoke up and identified herself as the school district psychologist. She said that she would like to have his IQ tested. After a lengthy discussion, we agreed. The results? At the age of 5, his IQ score was 162 - genius level.

The psychologist further stated that his IQ was most likely higher, but many of the questions at the higher levels made assumptions about the experience level of the person being tested, and that because he was inexperienced about the world, he missed questions that he would probably have understood. Yep, we had to raise a son who was certifiably smarter than either of us!

It wasn't so bad until he turned about 13 and realized that he was smarter than us. Then he began challenging us, using very sophisticated arguments and logic, trying to attack our rules and expectations. Finally, I realized something that saved us, and to a degree, I believe our relationship. He might be smarter than me, but he would never be wiser than me, because there is only one way to get wisdom - you gotta live!

I sat him down and explained my position, and surprisingly, he agreed. We agreed at that point to respect one another more and to listen to one another more. We also agreed to realize that disagreement did not mean disrespect and that we would be able to work everything out.

He has a younger sister, and she is just as smart. Yep, I had that same talk with her, too.

So many people regret getting older because they sense the loss of vitality and physical ability - even physical desirability. Some even look so far into the future as to fear death. I no longer fear either.

Last fall, when I almost lost my life, I realized that death isn't the end and that I will have much to look forward to in the great hereafter. Yes, it would be nice to be able to once again run and jump as I did when I was younger. But instead I climb higher mountains and run farther than I ever though possible in my mind.

My mind and my search for wisdom has taken me on more wondrous journeys and revealed to me more wonderful truths than my physical body ever could have. And when my time is up, whenever that may be, I know that my family will miss me and that I will long for the day when they can cross over and join me. But compared to eternity, what's a few years?

Everyone complains about getting older, but I think it would help to take inventory of all that you've gained along the way. Yes, a few wrinkles, several scars, a few pounds; but what are these compared to all else? Not much. Celebrate your journey and look forward to the rest of the trip. There is, after all, no going back.

Failure

I once attended a meeting wherein a very successful businessman was talking about success. He told the story of his sister, a woman who had spent most of her life strung out on drugs. She had just been released from rehab and had come to him for a job.

Because of her past history of rehab, regression and back again, he was reluctant to put her on the payroll. However, because he wanted to help, he made her a deal. He gave her a list of books - self-help books, for the most part - and said that for every book she read, he would pay her $100. However, just to make sure that she not only read the book, but that she understood it as well, she had to write a 3 page book report to get paid.

This continued for about a year, and towards the end, he was paying her more than he had expected every month. Finally, she told him that she didn't need his help anymore and went out and started her own business and is doing very well.

One day he asked her what she thought was the formula for success. She thought about it for a while and then responded with this formula: knowledge + persistence + ____________ = success. Can you guess what goes in the blank? It's not faith - faith gives you persistence. It's not hard work - that too, is covered by persistence. The answer is failure.

I left that meeting not remembering anything else the businessman said. But I pondered that formula for a very long time and decided to do my own research and see if she was right. I read biographies and autobiographies of hundreds of successful people. I read success-oriented books like Think and Grow Rich by Napoleon Hill, The Science of Self Confidence by Brian Tracy and Superself by Charles Givens, as well as many of the works by Stephen Covey, Wayne Dyer and others. And guess what? She was right!

You see, so many of us believe that failure is the end. But it is not. Thomas J. Watson, the CEO of IBM, who adopted the trademark “THINK” was asked by a young reporter how one could increase the rate of their success. His reply, "If you want to increase your success rate, then you should increase your failure rate." In other words, don't be so afraid of failing that you never try at all.

Napoleon Hill states that if you don't succeed at something, it doesn't mean that you are a failure. It just means that your plans are not sound. Rethink your objectives, redo your plans, and try again.

I watched an episode of Oprah a few years ago. On her show, she presented 4 entrepreneurs who had achieved great success before the age of 35. Just before they went to a commercial break she asked them how many different businesses they had started before they were successful. When they came back, she stated, to a stunned audience that the average - not the total, but the average for each of the business owners was 19! On average, each one of them had started nineteen different businesses and failed before they were successful.

Of course, I am not advocating that we should applaud failure. I am advocating that we don't let our own failures define who we are. And even more importantly, don't let the failures of others cause you to define them. Failure is only temporary - all failure is temporary. All.

Even if one never overcomes their failures during their entire life, they will in the life hereafter. All failure is a learning tool. We don't learn from our successes - only to repeat what we have already done. But life is not stagnant - it is dynamic and changing. How many real estate investors collapsed when the market went down? Even those who achieved huge success suffered the loss of all they had - because the only thing in life that never changes is the fact that everything changes.

So our failures teach us how to adapt and overcome - unless we allow them to overcome us. When you get kicked down - when you fail - pick yourself up, dust yourself off and look life in the eye and say, "I will not quit!" Most people know that Winston Churchill's final address to Parliament consisted of only seven words. Leaning heavily on his cane, the man who led Great Britain through its most perilous hours spoke slowly into the microphone, "Never give up. Never, never give up!" He then returned to his seat.

All of us fail. Very few of us are failures. Throughout the history of mankind, only a handful of individuals could truly be called failures.

Have hope. Be not afraid and move forward with confidence that you will eventually figure it out. Someday, perhaps very soon, you will succeed. Life is like a roller coaster. It has its highs and its lows. It seems to move at breakneck speeds. We just need to hold on and enjoy the ride.

Fathers

Fathers, this one is for you.

I am often saddened and dismayed to observe men at their worst. Specifically, when they demean and degrade their children and spouses. I am not even talking about physical abuse. I am talking about those men who have the attitude that they are the "Man of the House" or the "King of the Castle", and therefore, are somehow more important than the other people with whom they live.

And for those of us who do not have such attitudes, this will be an affirmation of what makes being a father so wonderful.

Here is something I learned while in the Army from a wise, older gentleman from my church: Men, we are only husbands and fathers because we are allowed to be, and we must earn that privilege every day. The gentleman who told me this had been married 54 years, so I think he knew something about it.

We choose our spouses, just as they choose us. However, our children didn't choose us. And at some point they will - or not. It depends on whether you give them reasons to choose you. Also, our spouses can later reject their choice - reject us - and still be mothers.

Let me explain. I have a friend who is proud of his Jewish heritage, in spite of the fact that he is, by faith, Christian. You see, his mother is Jewish by birth, and according to him, the Jewish culture traces a person's lineage (determining whether or not they are born in the faith) through the mother. When I asked him why, he simply said, "Because there is never any question as to who the baby's mother is!"

Men, we are only fathers and husbands because our wives and children allow us to be. In other words, a woman can conceive and bear children, and they can never deny the fact that she is their mother. Now, she may not be motherly, but she is the mother. If she chooses, she can separate herself from us and continue to be a mother. However,  if she does so, we cease, in many ways, to be a father.

In other words, even though we have paternal rights allowed by law, whether or not our children see us as a father, depends on their viewpoint; their choice - not ours. If they choose us as a father, then we are fathers. If not, we are not - despite DNA.

The role of a father is to support, guide, provide for, and at times, discipline his children. This is a vital role. If we do not do so in the spirit of love and giving, without seeking recognition or reward, then these same children will turn away from us, and it will be as if they were never born to us.

Because of my fathers injuries and illnesses, he became addicted to pain killers and prescribed narcotics. He never stole drugs or committed crimes to obtain them because he didn't have to. This was a day and age that physicians often just prescribed the medication without control. Nevertheless, for a period of time, he made our lives a living hell.

I was 16, and somehow, I set my father's temper off, and we got into it. This wasn't the first time that he had attacked me physically, but it was the last time. He punched me in the face, breaking my nose. I didn't cry out or attack back. I simply picked myself up off the floor, reached inside my jacket and pulled out a knife - a hunting knife with an 8" blade. Brandishing my knife, I said, "That's the last time you ever get to do that again! If you ever come after me, you will meet this! And remember, you have to sleep sometime! You are no father of mine!" And I left.

In less than a year, we had healed the wounds caused by that incident. I guess it finally dawned on him, that unless he wanted to lose all connection with his children, he had better clean up his act. Because the choice to allow him into my life and to accept him as my father was mine - not his. Unfortunately, he never repaired the relationship he had with my older brother.

Yes, we must, and can, lead by example of what it means to be a good man. We don't have to have money, we don't even have to have much. We just need to strive, as best we can to provide for our families, shelter them from the ills of the world, and give them loving guidance.

Yes, there are times when we must discipline our children. Providing children with no discipline is the grossest type of abuse because we allow them to hurt themselves. Refusing to provide discipline is selfish. However, when discipline is required, do so for the child, not for you. Don't use the occasion to release your own stress. You are stronger than that. Hold your own stress in and release it later through exercise, work or meditation.

Discipline because you love, not because you are angry. Guide because you care, not because you control - because the truth is, you don't control - not ultimately.

Now even the best fathers have wayward children, even children who spend much of their lives dealing with addiction, crime and prison. But, if these fathers can honestly say that they did all they could to be a good father - as best as they knew how - then, in spite of all that their children have done, they will still look at this man as their father.

Men, we are a royal brotherhood. We have the awesome responsibility and opportunity to raise children who are prepared for the world. Children who have the confidence necessary to overcome the challenges they face. There is much to be done, and it can be done, with the proper guidance and direction from a loving father.

The Need to Be Right

I went to a family gathering a week or so ago, and as is typical in most American families, I suppose, the talk turned to politics. I listened to the differing opinions and ideas that caused several of my family members to get rather hot under the collar, and something dawned on me - both sides have this incredible need to be right.

And it's not even enough that they need to be right, but in being so, everyone else must be wrong - and both sides feel this way. And I wondered, why is it that we have this powerful need, and why are we so willing to sacrifice the feelings of others and the sacred relationships we have with those we love the most, just so that we can be right?

From the time we first learn to understand those around us - mainly our parents - we learn right from wrong - right? Wrong. We learn their impressions of right and wrong. We are too young to understand the difference. We are born in innocence with no knowledge of right, wrong; good or evil.

As we learn that we do indeed, have freedom of thought, we begin to question that which we have been told is right. We ask for ourselves, "What do I believe?" And we seek answers. Sometimes we seek answers in school. We seek answers in church. Other times we seek the advice of friends. Sometimes we even seek the advice of our parents.

Sometimes, when we seek answers, we don't really want an answer - we want confirmation of what we just know to be true. And if the source we turn to doesn't agree, well, then they must be misinformed! And we are duty-bound to correct this aggregious oversight! So we saddle up our arguments, arm our intellect with our sharpest eloquence and sally forth, like Don Quixote, and seek to slay the windmill.

So what is it that you really want? Do you want the truth or do you want to feel good about what you already believe? And don't be fooled - it takes great courage to seek the truth.

Fortunately, there is a source of all truth that we can seek out and find - if we are willing to quiet our own arguments, calm our fears and put faith in the journey of discovery. We are all born with vast capabilities of intuition, conscience, spritual awareness, or whatever term you wish to use. Unfortunately, it is not loud, boistrous or demanding. It is quiet, subtle and giving.

It is only when we surrender our need to be right that we can hear the whisper of our souls, that invisible person within who knows all truth. It is only when we quiet our demands and send our arguments back to the stables, and simply accept that we can come to know what is right - FOR US.

Yep, it is entirely possible that two different people - even those from the same family - can both feel strongly from within what is right; only to realize, much to their surprise, that what was right for them is not the same for others!

Now here is the miracle - if you will accept it - it's okay that someone else believes differently than you. You can still be right and allow them to be right as well - because each is right for themselves.

Two words of advice. First, be careful of who you are listening to when you are seeking what is right. Do not rely on the opinions, no matter how well argued, of others. Find silence. Find peace. Find love, especially for those with whom you disagree, and then you will find truth.

Secondly, any time your need to be right causes hurt feelings, strained relationships, anger, negativity and frustration - you are wrong. Not that your opinion is necessarily wrong. Your need to be right is wrong. Very wrong. Every agent of chaos in the universe laughs when we have contention in our lives.

If you can state your position clearly, logically and even with passion, but with peace, then you are right - for you. And you will be okay both inside and out, if someone else disagrees. You will realize and recognize that the need to be right can and does destroy the most precious things in life you will ever have - your relationship with others.

After all, when you leave this world, the only two things you will be able to take with you are your experiences and your relationships - at least the ones you haven't destroyed with your need to be right.

Voices

Today, my father spoke to me. For those of you who have been following my blog, this may come as a shock, because you remember me relating to you the moment of his death. Yes, my father is dead - or should I say, no longer mortal? And yet he spoke to me. I would like to share with you some of the things that he said.

"You are a son; a loving and devoted son to both your mother and myself; and yes, you're much, much more than this! How can I put into words the sadness when something happens to you, or the happiness when I know you're happy? Or the pride when I see you progress in all the things you have done in your life, and it doesn't stop here. I will experience these things with your throughout eternity.


"Lane, you have made me one of the proudest fathers on this earth over one of his sons. And I know that the lump I've felt swell in my throat [which] brings tears to my eyes will happen again as I see you progress with your own life and the things [that] you will achieve."

No, I did not receive a ghostly visitor or a heavenly manifestation. I received something much more tangible - a letter. He wrote it to me on 19 November 1982, when I was 18 years old. I remember how much it meant to me when I received it - how much more it means to me now!

For some reason, unknown to me, I awoke this morning at 4:00. I went directly to my office, opened a file drawer and withdrew on of my journals (I have 11 volumes, thus far). I began to read of my teenage years - when I started writing in my journal, and I came across this faded, 4-page letter from my father.

Once again, I am reminded of how important journals are and will be - not just to my posterity, but to me. By being able to pick up my journal and read of past accounts, thoughts and feelings, I gain a much greater insight into who I am today - and how I got here.

Let me share another entry with you.

11 October 1982

 I have made the decision to let my wife, after marriage, read this journal that she may more fully understand me. I have no knowledge of whom I will marry (I had a steady girlfriend at the time, whom I did not marry). I don't know if I've even met my wife yet, but Honey, please realize as you read the relationships I've had with other girls, [that] the feelings I had were written by a 16, 17 and  18-year-old boy who could never know who is right for him. I will always hold a special place for these girls in my heart, but you are the one I've chosen to be with me throughout time and all eternity."

As you can imagine, this was a great surprise to me today - I don't remember even writing those words, let alone having made that decision. And that is the miracle of journals. You can record - to a degree - who you are at the moment, and it will surprise you in later years.

At times you will read in amazement your own wisdom for one so young (you always seem young in your journals), and laugh at the folly of your youth. You will remember with fondness, past glories and fun events, and will read with pride and renewed determination of the difficulties which you have overcome.

I have been writing in journals since 25 December 1979, when I received my first journal as a Christmas gift from my parents. Have I written every day? No. Have I recorded every major event in my life? Again, regrettably, no. But I have compiled a history - somewhat - of 31 years of my life; for me, my wife and my posterity. And it will continue as long as I have the capacity to do so.

My friend, please, I am begging you, keep a journal. Please create this great foundation of support for yourself and your family! No matter who you are, how old you are, or what you have done, your journal will be treasured. You will treasure it and your loved ones will, too.

Here is a letter, written by my grandfather:

February 2, 1981 (My grandmother's birthday)

Dear Olga, Mother and most of all my loving wife and sweet-heart that I have owned for 52 years, 11 months and 22 days. You are the most precious part of my life and I am looking forward to having a few more years to follow, with pleasure and happiness.

And have a happy day to start the ball rolling

All my love and best, Your Loving Husband

P.S. Buy something special for your birthday. Sorry I never got you a card

Today, my father spoke to me. What a joy it was to read his words, written in his beautiful penmanship! Oh, how I wish he would have kept a journal. I could surely use his advice. Today I was reminded that I have come from a family of love - generations of love. Love so deep that I cannot comprehend it.

All of this and more is my miracle of the day - because of a journal.