Little Fish, Big River, Bigger City

Antarctica? Yes, Antarctica

I've spent most of the past year feeling like life had no more "magic" in it. After spending most of my years with a sort of child-like awe toward most anything, I hit this point where I felt simply nothing. I wasn't sad, or happy or really anything. I just "was." Where I used to marvel at the little things such as a blue sky or the feeling of a breeze, I spent my days just existing. Each one came and went without any notable moments of wow.

I suppose it comes from two things. 1. a desk job: you wake up each monday, get through the inbox until you get to friday...spend the weekend thinking about all you could be doing only to find it's 5 p.m. on sunday and then the dread of another monday sets in before you get to any of the could be doings. And 2. no big goals to go after: I usually had something that I was striving toward - an Iron Man, a business idea, a trip - anything that had a date on it where I would come out on the other side feeling different than I did going into it.

So, as those days came and went one thing lingered in the shadows - the thought that I needed to do something different, something cool, something out there beyond the ordinary grind. After several months of this back of mind wishing, I got an email from my amazing and dear friend Tom.

"Want to go to Antarctica?"

Yea, right. Me? Sure I want to go but how? My mind blew it off at this point. A day later, another email - "let's go"...

Slowly, I came around to the idea that he was asking me to go with him on the trip of a lifetime to celebrate a milestone birthday. I slowly went from no way to why not? The part of me that had been dead quiet came alive and said "yes, I'm in."

Since that moment, it seems that so much has changed. The days have flown by faster than I can say "another monday." The trip is a mere two weeks away. In the meantime, I've began packing, I've been reading all I can on Antarctica, I've watched "March of The Penguins" and all the DVD extras.

And I've been pinching myself and saying "I'm actually going THERE."

Instead of questioning the how and why I got to be so lucky, I've instead focused on just being thankful that I'm no longer feeling nothing. I'm now feeling very much alive again with something. I've got butterflies thinking about being on an icebreaker. I've got dread thinking about leaving my dogs, my girlfriend and my job for a 3 week period. Both are awesome because it's just good in general to know that I actually have feelings again.

It seems there are a million things to take care of and do between here and there but that's how it is with anything like this. Instead of freaking out about it all, I'm staying focused on what it will be like to see my first iceberg. Yea, I'm going to see real icebergs in a real ocean instead of just looking at photos of them. Wow.

In closing, I'm just going to say, thank you, Tom. Thanks for the trip of a lifetime and thanks for all the intangible things that change in one's life as the result of going on a trip of a lifetime.

With that, I'm off to dream another night about penguins...

Labels: antarctica, friendship, penguins, vacation

All I Can, With All I Have...

I spend a lot of time with a "woe is me" mentality in my head. I'm not sure why, it just seems to creep into my thoughts little by little, day after day. It wears me down until I reach a state of "what am I doing with my life? why am I even here? why am I not doing more?"

The excuses soon follow inside my skull full of spinning thoughts. "I'm not smart enough, I'm too old, I'm too lazy, it's too hard to just 'get by' that I can't possibly do anything more than this..."

As usually happens, these excuses are vaporized at some point when life extends a friendly hand which slaps me with a wake up call that really, life is NOT so bad after all and truly, many of us have much more to be thankful for than we realize. A few days ago, after a long day in the office from which I was dragging myself home via the subway, I noticed a well-dressed man in front of me on the platform. He was like many other New Yorkers I see day after day save for one notable difference - his left jacket sleeve was tucked back inside itself. It was an unneeded bit of cloth for someone missing their left arm.

I unconsciously scratched the bridge of my nose with my left hand while my right hand continued to hold the book I was reading. Such a small thing to scratch my nose so easily, yet such a big thing... As the man waited for his train, he bent over and placed a small, fancy shopping bag containing some sort of gift between his thighs to hold it. As I continued to walk toward him to take up my spot on the platform, he reached for the metro card he held in his mouth. His right arm sported a crisp, white cuff on a well-tailored blue shirt adorned with a silver cufflink. It was tailored because his right arm ended at the elbow where a small crab-like appendage emerged at a reverse-right angle, similar to a baby-bird's wing bent out and back.

The man struggled, half-bent over, maintaining the gift bag between his thighs as he fumbled near his hip for several minutes. He was returning the small, thin metro card to his pants pocket with two, odd-shaped finger-pincers that didn't cooperate due to their opposing direction away from his body. Finally, the card was painstakingly returned to its home and the man proceeded to one of the benches in the middle of the platform. I felt rude for watching, yet I couldn't help but soak in how much this person must go through, day after day while I create my excuses that life is too hard for me to do anything more with it...

All the cliches came to mind, "there's always someone worse off, don't stare, etc. etc." but the reality is, the more I looked the more I was inspired to get off of my pitiful attitude train and to start being thankful and grateful.

He let a laptop bag slide off his shoulder onto the bench as my inspired heart wept quietly for his bravery to just be out here, taking on life despite the difficulties and oceans of frustrations he must endure with his condition. He struggled with a zipper on the bag for a bit, using his teeth to try and pull it open. Two homeless men complete (with their arms, hands and fingers fully in tact) sat on either side of the man's bag, watching but not offering to help. Did they have any of the same thoughts? Did they also realize how much more they had to be thankful as they gazed upon the man's difficulty with simple task. For several painstaking minutes, he attempted to stuff an uncooperative black windbreaker into the bag using just his mouth. It seemed that everyone on the platform was furtively watching like me, but no one offered to help. It seemed that with so many people staring, he must have been able to feel the eyes upon him. Or was he numb to this, accepting it as he accepted his situation and was clearly not going to let anything get in his way. He was here to live and enjoy the most normal life he could. That was clearly stated by everything from his cuff link to his metro card in his pocket to his gift bag.

I wanted to just walk over and help him with that damn jacket that wasn't going into the bag. Oddly, it felt as if it would be some sort of an insult to walk up and say, "hello sir, could I help you out with that?" I just stayed frozen in place because mentally it seemed there was no way to not sound totally wrong: "...because I've got two perfect arms, two perfect hands, and ten wonderful fingers and you don't?" - exactly NOT what I was thinking. What I actually thinking was, "life is a cruel bitch for giving you this situation and I don't know why some of us are more fortunate. As a thank you for inspiring me, I would love to return the favor and help you with that jacket."

No, I just stood there, saying nothing while gratitude for my own situation welled up inside. I needed to write about this with the ten fingers that I am so blessed with. At least I still had my big nose and droopy eyes as a fallback for something to complain about mentally. My train arrived and I stepped in while the man continued trying to stuff the windbreaker into his bag with his mouth while the homeless people and everyone else looked on. Inside the train, I looked up from my book to avoid running into any current passengers. I was now face to face with a man who appeared to have lost half of his. From his left eye, down the side of his nose, diagonally across his mouth to the center of his chin ran a deep wide scar/welding of plastic surgery. His right forehead, eye, cheek and chin were nearly concave in contrast to his "normal" left side. Instead of being straight ahead, his nose and right eye were facing off in the direction of the collapsed sphere of his head. What on earth could have caused such a disconfiguration: bomb blast, shark bite, car crash, industrial accident, machetee fight? It didn't matter. Here he was, smiling away, wearing a suit, working on a blackberry like everyone else. Everything about him, his posture, his smile, his clothing, and especially his radiance said, "hey, I'm perfectly fine...and I don't have time to feel sorry for myself, life is too short for that..."

My own large nose and droopy eyes and those lifelong ugly moles on my face were suddenly a non-issue. When I got home, I took a long look in the mirror. It's by no means a pretty sight to see but it's all there. I gently touch the face I have with the fingers on the hands on the arms I have. I make a mental note: "stop making excuses for not being able to do what you wish in life because you don't have enough of something."

Instead, like the two people I saw tonight who are out there in life and going strong despite what most would consider debilitating hardships, I vowed to stop making excuses, to stop bringing myself down for one reason or another and that each day I would do all I can with all I have.

Labels: inspired

Time To Write Again...

It's been a long time since I last posted here. I've been working, but I don't feel I've been living. I'm coming up on four years in New York City now and while it's been a great experience, I definitely haven't tasted the flavors this place offers. Waking up this morning, the first thought to hit my groggy brain was that I've lived most of my life thinking in terms of what I'm not instead of thinking in terms of what I can do. I'm not rich enough, I'm not good looking enough, I'm not successful in my endeavors, I'm not skinny enough, I'm not athletic enough, I don't do enough, I don't write enough, I don't travel enough, I don't see enough...

Enough is enough...

I realized quickly that when I used to write each day, I would randomly receive emails and comments from friends and strangers that something I did write hit home with them. That always felt good. It gave me a purpose, a small one, but a purpose for being here. At one point, I fell into what could be called a 'rut' where my purpose was to pay rent, eat, sleep, work, pay more rent, eat more, sleep more, work more. Writing was eventually pushed off my plate, brushed off the table to the floor and swept under the rug.

I kept thinking that I would get back to it once I was "more" instead of "not enough" in so many areas of life. So what triggered the change that I'm writing once again? I'm not entirely sure. For a long time I've felt the need but didn't have the "spark" to login and post here. Today, while going out for morning coffee, I passed by an older man standing in an alcove looking at the sky and mumbling. He appeared to be homeless but I've also seen him acting as sort of a part-time super for the next building over when they tore up and redid the sidewalk surrounding the building.

It was cold out, yet he had no gloves and his light winter jacket wasn't zipped. I got my coffee, returned home, warmed up, went through my mail. It was 10 a.m. After a spell and considering it's a Saturday, I decided on a refill of coffee. I went back out, taking the same route. The man is still there. Still looking up at the sky. Still mumbling. His hands are bare while mine are shoved into my pockets to stay warm for the two minute walk. I'm not sure how he's not frozen to the core. He's holding a plastic grocery bag in his gritty left hand.

The questions start bubbling up - "what does he see that I don't?" "who is he speaking to?" "how many hours can he stand out here in this weather, talking with someone in the sky?"

The first emotional answer which comes to mind is empathy for someone who's lost their mind to hallucinations. The second answer which comes to mind is that perhaps at a certain point the brains of certain people go beyond rent, sleep, eating, working and they are released into a freedom unknown to those of us stuck in the "rut" of existing instead of living. What if we're the crazy ones? What if we're the blind ones who only see the grindstone to which we've pressed our noses? What if there is something more if we just stop, stand, let go and look? Is there a brain cell which has the sole purpose of blocking out those things beyond the daily grind? Could it be that this man sees reality more than I do? Could it be that what he is looking at and who he is talking to is real and the reason he sees this reality is because he somehow drank away the brain cell that had blocked out another dimension to which he can now communicate with?

I come back with my refilled coffee to my small apartment that is not "big enough" where just hours ago I wished there was "something more" to life. I sit down to write because of a man who can obviously see something more in the sky than I can. With the second coffee beginning to work away the last of my grogginess, I feel thankful. Thankful that real or not, there must be "something more" instead of "not enough" which that man could see well enough to cause him to skip the cold reality of where he was in order to step into a place where he could converse for hours with the sky and not be affected by the here and now.

I'm thankful that I'm writing again, by stepping away from the here and now that has held me prisoner for more than a year and setting about to do what I can be and do, rather than what I am not or have not done. If he can stand in the cold for hours talking to the sky, I can stand the in the rut, look up and out... and begin to write again. Perhaps the way out is not to continue along by walking further down this rut, but the way out is to stop and look up at the sky above.

Inspired by a man most would consider crazy? Possibly. Inspired by a man who actually sees something more to life? Possibly. In the end, does it really matter? Probably not. What matters (to me at least) is that I've wanted to write for a long time and now I am. Regardless of the reason, I feel that having my creative wheels in motion again is what matters (to me at least). It's my hope that perpaps someone reading this who has felt the same can relate and as a result find what matters (to them at least.)

I'll close with my current favorite quote by Markus Pierson: "That many had ventures farther and done so in finer style bothered me not. My journey was my own and I found it to be quite spectacular."

Day 1021: We Now Return You To Our Regular Programming

I took a short break from writing, 313 Days to be more exact. What have I been doing? In short, I've been telling myself that I need to get back to writing each of those days. In long, I've been waiting for something emerge worth writing about.

This week, something emerged worth spending a Saturday evening in the city that never sleeps. The moniker is true - I never seem to sleep and have basically been running on thinly wired fatigue for the year. But I digress...

The thing that has finally set my fingers in motion again is the sudden reawakening of my "kindness" site called LittleFishBigRiver.com. It's basically been dormant along with my writing/blather for most of this year. Suddenly, in the past couple of weeks people have started to join and post acts of kindness. And not just any old acts of kindness like "smiled at a stranger" which I've used when in desperate need for posting something. Instead, people are posting real things such as buying medicine for poor villagers in Bangkok.

It's the season of giving and Holiday music is playing in the background. I'm thinking of even getting a tree this year instead of simply passing over the holiday as I did for the most part last year. I have renewed energy and hope for the site now. I had almost written it off but, like most good things, they eventually prove themselves out and instead of becoming extinct, they begin to bloom - even in the middle of winter.

So where to from here? I don't know, really. What I do know is that for now, it feels good that people from around the world have starting finding the site and joining. Each day I find myself checking it to see what new things have been posted from unexpected places.

Christmas is 9 days away now and my sincerest hope is that the season of giving doesn't end there but instead continues to grow on "LFBR" all year long.

As I close, I'd like to apologize to anyone reading this who may have been a regular reader of my much more interesting/funny/insightful posts of yore. I will get back to that in due time, I'm just a bit out of practice.

In the meantime, I do have a favor to ask of anyone reading this - please take the time to share LittleFishBigRiver.com with all of your friends and family. If you're having a bad day visit the site, if you're having a good day, visit the site. If you've done something kind, record it and if something kind has happened to you, record that. If you run across some inspirational story, stick that on there, too.

I've learned over time that goodness and kindness don't really exist in an individual vacuum. It's something that happens between people and is meant to be shared. There is no giving without receiving and no receiving without giving. It's a balance...

With all the horror of the world reported in the news each day, isn't it time to balance that out too? Wouldn't you rather hear stories of good things from everywhere? Yea, me too.

Peace out...

Day 708: The Map of Mayhem

I figure it's time to stop. My days are racing by without any coherent strategy and as such, they slip away like ripples on a river under the bridge of life between the shores of where I am and where I hope to be.

Today I decided to press the "pause" button on life and look around for a minute or twenty. I pull out a list of "lifetime goals" and I look at a list of "current projects." Hours fly by, and minutes disappear into the ether behind me and it's my little way of just grabbing a moment to take stock and then move forward.

I'm of course, writing about it all here from the double angle of getting things down concretely for myself as well as hoping that it helps others do the same.

First and foremost, I hope that I make the world better daily by my existence. In combination with that, I hope to experience and see and achieve a few things along the way so that when the end of my days are slapping me in the face they are colorful, bright, full of wonder, and full of non-regrets.

As such, I've employed a personal "life/success coach." Part of me thinks this is sheer buffoonery while another part of me realizes that in any endeavor where I've gotten further than I had ever hoped, a coach of some sort has been one of the key factors.

I had my first "virtual session" with my "coach" a few days ago and since then have pondered the effects this has had on my life in order to determine if I should continue or not. My guess is that like me, you're probably wondering "what on earth" while also wondering "does it really help you get any where?"

I figure that one thing I can do with this little journal is be a "guinea pig" for others by trying things and reporting them so that others can then judge for themselves on the merits of similar endeavors. So, let's get down to it here.

First, I had to lay out on paper, where I am now, what I've done that has been considered a "success" and the areas I'd like to "improve." I also laid out where I want to go, what I'm doing now, and where I rank myself across 12 different areas of life from friendships to career to personal growth to health. True to my bipolar nature, I found myself to be either at 1 or at a 10, opposite ends of the spectrum, depending on the area in question.

What did I learn? Life is about BALANCE. If nothing else, I'm need to at least take some of the 10's and apply that "energy and time and effort" to the 1's and try to achieve some 5's across the board. From there, I can gently increase everything to a 6, a 7, an 8 and so on until I'm achieving 10's everywhere.

So what do my days look like now? In short, we all have 24 hours to work with. I spend around 16 of those on various work projects, 4 of the rest on various personal items, and another 4 on sleep. Lack of balance equals a whack of balance. I might feel like I'm getting ahead, but really, I'm doing nothing more than digging holes of deficit by being out of balance.

You'd think it's obvious but when you're "in it" you don't really see all this clearly until you stop and take a step back to consider. Ah. Okay then...time to balance out a bit - I'm not exercising in the least and I'm working so long each day that I become "unproductive" and "ineffective" and that rolls over into the next day and the next and the next to where I'm really just sliding further and further down a slippery slope of inefficient efforts.

Enter the success/life coach and accountability - where do I wish to improve? What are the five key things I'll get done in the next two weeks before the next call? What are the items I'm going to list on my daily online schedule which we'll both read over regarding time spent on what?

Suddenly, I see the mayhem, I see the imbalances, I see where I can adjust, and I strive for the goals in several areas rather than burning out one section. Guinea pig time. So what has changed since the call and the new direction? I laid out what's on my plate and decided what gets my time for two weeks. I added in things to my daily routine while subtracting others in order to balance out the days more. I've found that the less hours I spend at work, the more focused I become on doing what needs to get done in less time. I've discovered that while I THOUGHT I was getting a lot done by throwing a ton of hours into something, I'm actually able to do MORE by throwing less time at it and giving tasks a hard cut-off time. I've learned that by taking "time out" to just relax and do nothing more than watch a movie, or read, or write used to feel like time away from work, I now feel as if I'm spreading out my hours across all areas of life which are equally important for balance.

So, while this might be my 2nd most boring journal entry ever, I also feel that it's one of my most important since life is about growing in many areas instead of just one or two. I'm now sleeping 8 hours a night instead of 4. I'm now striving to exercise daily instead of not at all. I'm now eating 3 meals a day instead of 1. I'm now working 9 hours a day instead of 16. I'm now relaxing for at least 3 hours a day instead of 1, and I'm now writing daily instead of not at all. In the end, everything gets done and it all gets done on a more equal basis. I've found that my "to do" list is organized in a way that the most important and largest items get taken care of first and then they are "out of the way" for the other items that used to "roadblock" the bigger things. I used to operate from the stand point of getting all the little things done before I could even start the big things, but if you can relate at all - so many little things continually pop up that the big things NEVER get started or finished. Now they are done and behind me and the little things are more easily taken care of as a result.

Yea, yea, yea...blah blah blah...

Totally logical.

But are you completely satisfied and happy in life? If you are, great. If you're not, maybe it's time to just hit "pause" and write down where you are, where you would like to be, what you spend your time doing now and what you would LIKE to spend your time doing. From there, simply work toward adding time into your daily and weekly routine toward the things you want to do while pulling some time away from the things that are less important that you know are eating up your hours and blocking the the other areas of your life?

Again, I fully admit this is probably the lamest post of all time, or at least the 2nd lamest post - but perhaps, for someone, even one person, it might strike home and their life improves as a result.

If that happens - I'll have reached two small goals - taking the time to write today as well as helping make the world a better place in some miniscule way. As such - I feel I'm often writing to a "brick wall" as I know that not many people read this. So feel free to drop me a line and tell me if this stuff helps, or if I'm just wearing out my keyboard for no reason.

Or...if you really are "out there" and feel like having a "success/life" coach of your own to help you get to your goals, let me know and I can refer you and would love to do so. At least then I won't feel like the only odd duck out here swimming in the pond of mayhem.

Day 707: Aw, rats!

I'm sitting on the bench in front of Jack's Coffee, sipping a cup of decaf while doing a bit of "people watching" and catching twenty minutes of fresh air. It's a normal, perfect day and no excitement or anything out of the ordinary is on any horizon.

"He's just sitting there like a dog in broad daylight, yea, didn't even move when I went by..." the young, blonde exclaims into her cell phone, "yea, a RAT! Just sitting there!!"

I think nothing of it at all. Of course, what do you expect? It's New York and my guess is the rats outnumber the people if you don't count the commuters. Rats are as much a part of the nightly landscape as birds are part of they daytime landscape. I do find it interesting though that a rat was hanging out in broad daylight. I let my brain move on to the next subject and begin walking toward home...my 20 minute break is over.

"I can't believe, the f___ker has no fear at all!!!" another man is on HIS cell phone telling someone, "yea, just sitting in the middle of the sidewalk hanging out as if it owned the entire street! It's unbelieveable."

I notice that this guy had actually looped outside of the parked cars on the street to give the sidewalk owning, fearless, sitting like a dog rat a very wide berth. Now my curiosity is perking up and straight ahead I see the commotion causing rodent. Sure enough, there is a rat, a small one though, right in the middle of the sidewalk. People are walking past it without even noticing it and sure enough, the rat isn't even attempting to scurry off at all. Like an about to happen disaster scene from a movie, an older lady with one of those little wheeled collapsable carts is heading right toward the rat in what is sure to be a very ugly mess in the very near future.

I pick up my pace and get between her and the little, out of whack rat. I simply turn my back to the approaching lady and put my heels together in a little "V" shape to offer the rat some protection as well as to prevent any possibly nasty reaction it might inflict on the lady's ankles should she mow it down with her cart. The lady goes past and is actually a bit on the understanding side.

I tell her I think the rat's been poisoned and is suffering and I'm just going to take care of it somehow and get it off the street for everyone's saftey. Really, all I care about is the fact that here is a small brown piece of fur which is having a lot of trouble walking at all and tears are streaming out of its eyes. She actually appears to be a girl from a physical standpoint which doesn't require explanation if you've ever seen rats in a petstore. I gently "scuffle" her with my show out of the middle of the sidewalk to the brick wall of the building nearby.

She's not looking good at all and it can only be the result of poisoning. I can't take it, and I start to just walk away figuring she'll eventually die there or wander off to someplace else. Then I can't take just walking away and I turn back. Finding a shoebox next to a garbage can, I do the unthinkable as passersby take me to be a lunatic of some sort. I bend down, open the flip out lid to the shoe box and set the box open-sided toward little Miss Rat. She seems to be more than thankful for the safe haven and she drags herself into the soft tissue paper inside as she tucks herself into a corner.

That was easy.

I close the lid to the box and I now have a dying, poisoned rat in a shoebox under my arm. Happy Tuesday. I walk home and try to figure out what to do next. Is she saveable? Having something die on me, including house plants just doesn't sit well with me, but I know she's pretty far gone. I open the lid to observe her. She seems to look back at me with thankful, brown eyes. She's breathing fairly hard, but she's not aggressive or scared in any way. I take a bit of swiss cheese and a small bottle lid filled with water and place it in the box with her. She eagerly goes for the cheese and begins to nibble. it doesn't take long however before she simply loses energy and semi-collapses onto the chunk of cheese with her chin as she continues to breathe rapidly. I close the lid and say a little prayer that she'll just go soon. It's 2:17 p.m.

An hour passes, I check on her, not much of a change. She's still crying from her eyes. She's still breathing, she still softly regards me. I check every hour after that. I wish something would change - for worse or better - this middle ground is purgatory for both of us and I'm sure probably much more difficult for her.

7:30 p.m. I've now spent just over five hours with this little life in a shoebox sitting on the staircase in my apartment with a flower pot on top in the event she instantly recovers and decides to bust on out and come after me in a post-poison rage. I think to myself that I'm being really ridiculous. First for picking her up, second for putting the flower pot on top of the shoebox. I decide to check on her one more time. My heart breaks a little more as I open the box - she's now flattened out as if she'd been dropped from a tree - all legs are splayed outward from her body. She's still crying, still breathing heavily. Okay, clearly she's on her way out. I just wish it would go quickly for her. A friend and I were talking on the phone a moment ago and he told me to put her out of her misery and I asked him how? A hammer? A kitchen knife? Really, I'm not going to be able to do anything of the sort...

As I gaze at her wondering what on earth I could do to help, I'm overcome with wondering what on earth rat fur feels like. What the heck, she's not going to bite me and I'll just wash my hands afterward. I reach down into the box and stroke the fur on the top of her head, down her neck and back softly. Not much different than any of the rabbits I had as a kid. I personally think that rats simply have bad marketing firms handling their account. Sure, everyone loves ladybugs, chipmunks, etc. but no way on rats, worms, or cockroaches. Squirrels and pigeons lie somewhere in between depending on who your parents were and how much fear they fed you for breakfast: "squirrels are just rats with bushy tails!" or "pigeons are just rats with wings!!!"

I continue to stroke her fur and her eyes gently close at my touch but her breathing continues. I tell her that it's okay to go, she's off the street and no one is going to step on her. I tell her that she can just let go and sleep now and there will be a ginormous garbage pile waiting for her on the other side. A few more gentle words and I close the lid quietly. I wash my hands and oddly, I don't get sick, or die despite the fact that I can now add "touched a live New York City rat (probably one covered with poison!)" to my list of "things I've done in life that others probably wouldn't do." It's one of my favorite lists to keep, by the way. Of course, I don't like it as much as I like the "things others have done that scare me to death but I kind of want to try anyway" list.

I head back to my computer and do a bit more work on whatever it is that I do for work in any given moment. I really can't concentrate after seeing her in the "fallen out of a tree" splayed out mode. Thirty minutes go by, it's about 8:05 and I take the flower pot off the box and open the lid one more time.

No breathing.

i sigh deeply, sad but relieved that this life has finally moved on and the suffering has stopped. I will now spend the next twenty-four hours wondering "what on earth?" in the back of my mind as I try to figure out if I'm just really insane that I can't bear to see an animal dying and have to try and give it comfort. I doubt any other New Yorker, or at least anyone I've known in my life would pick up a poisoned rat off the street with a shoebox to offer some final, peaceful hours. Or maybe I'm not crazy - I'm just following my rules and not allowing societal norms dictate how I treat another living being.

I guess I prefer the latter and as such, I always seem to sleep like a rock. I think that each of us has to live according to our own rules but too often, we can end up living in reaction to how others treat us, or what they tell us, or what we read, rather than simply following our own hearts and living according to how we feel and what feels right.

My good friend Ross once told me that the litmus test one can always use in business and in most any life situation is to just do a "gut check" - you're going to know, deep down if what you're doing is right or wrong and if you just follow that and be totally honest and upright, you'll never have to check yourself or try to cover anything or change your story. You can just live on a much higher level and be above the fray where others are trying to step on you or kick you off the sidewalk.

I guess that living according to our own rules and following what our hearts know to be true is a little bit like being picked up in a shoebox and carried off to someplace where you can live out your time, knowing you're not going to be harmed. It's safe, warm, free from worry, and a very nice place to be.

Day 706: The Mirror

I enjoy looking for ways to learn and grow in some way each day. I also enjoy putting them down in this journal in hopes that as I learn from others, that I can pass it along to those who may read this. I've also found that in writing things here, it helps me clarify and solidify the lessons life brings and hopefully at some point, I'll be able to look back on this reflect on things which I felt were important enough to put down in writing.

Speaking of reflection, I heard an interesting concept recently that really made me think twice, then three times. I was told about a theory that whenever we criticize or applaud others, what we may actually be doing is reflecting things that we don't like or do like within ourselves as our distastes and tastes are usually personal.

Hmmm.

Over the past year, I felt I've grown a lot from many of the books I read. I came to realize that one of the most important things is to simply accept ourselves as we are and be happy in that while working on things we would like to improve upon while also continuing to improve the areas where we are currently satisfied. I thought about times where I have been critical of others or have "pointed a finger" regarding the actions and words of others. As my grandma used to say, "whenever you point a finger at someone else, you're pointing four others back at yourself." We can all point a finger at someone in criticism or in praise, but what if in doing this, we took the time to see how this is simply a reflection of our own feelings, beliefs, criticisms, aspirations, dreams, goals, and hopes about ourselves?

It's easy to just run down my list of heroes and friends that I admire and realize that I admire them because I aspire to be like them for the same reasons I look up to them. It's more difficult, but just as important (if not more) to think about those I've criticized in the past for one reason or another and then find that those criticisms relate to how I feel inside about myself more than how I actually feel toward the actions or words of another. When I start to learn this lesson, I learn to be more accepting of myself and then it's more than easy to accept others as they are.

Blah, blah, blah...basic stuff, who cares?

Okay, so far I'm just repeating learnings from others here. But I'd like to take it one step further in that I feel lessons are important if you can actually apply them in new ways.

Now I'm not sure if this is somewhat of an original thought or not, but what if we simply thought of ourselves as mirrors for others and turned this all around? What if every time we received criticism or praise, instead of taking offense or getting upset or feeling "too" good about compliments, instead we simply think, "it's okay...what this person is really doing or saying toward me is nothing more than exposing how they truly feel about themselves."

Sure, no one is perfect and when we're criticized (or praised) there's nothing wrong with taking a moment to reflect on it. Rather then getting defensive (or egotistical) I've found that it's easy to simply decide from there if it's something I wish to actually change about myself or not. If it is, I make a note to simply try and do better in that area. If it's not something I wish to change, I can just say that it's nothing more then the other person venting or praising something about themselves go about my day.

So, this might be my most boring post ever, but I think it was such a good advice that I really wanted to get it down in writing for myself and hope that others can get something out of it in the process. If not, cool. If so, great...

Time to go floss in the mirror and reflect on the day now...