I should have posted this message back on Dec 16/2009. So sorry, I will be returning January 2010, so see you then!
Blessings,
Shawn F Murphy
Entrepreneur Statistics: USA 2026
9 hours ago
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Quote of the Day!
"Ideals are like stars; you will not succeed in touching them with your hands, but like the seafaring man on the desert of waters, you choose them as your guides, and following them you reach your destiny."
Carl Schurz
1829-1906, Politician
Carl Schurz
1829-1906, Politician
Mother (Day 85)
She dreamed of you from the time she was a little girl cradling a baby doll in her arms. She always saw you playing around the little cottage in her childhood dreams.
She carried you in her body and you made her sick every morning for weeks and weeks. She bore you into the world through intense pain but when she heard you cry and saw your wrinkled face she forgot all about it and wept tears of joy.
She fed you at her breast and her whole world revolved around you. She stole into your room at night just to watch you sleep and she was sure you were the most beautiful child on earth. She set up through the night to bathe away the fever and at breakfast your dad said; "Sleep well, honey?" oblivious to the all-night vigil. She somehow always knew when you needed her, even in the middle of the night, and she came to your room and changed your bedding and made sure you were warm and dry.
She covered your ears and gave you your coat and checked your homework and made you practice the piano and set through all your ball games and recitals like they were the seventh game of the World Series and a debut at Carnegie Hall. She nagged you to brush your teeth with words of wisdom like; "Be true to your teeth or they will be false to you." She changed your diaper and cleaned up when you were sick and washed underwear no one else would touch without a chemical suit. And who do you think always cleaned the gunk out of the kitchen sink and bathtub drain?
She made sure you had the drumstick and your dad had the breast and acted like she preferred the wings. Her oatmeal cookies made you forget the beating you took from the neighborhood bully, or the slow rate of greeting card sales.
She listened to you and didn't laugh when others would have mocked you. She believed in you when you didn't believe in yourself and prayed for you even when you didn't think you needed it. She made you think you could do things you were sure you couldn't do. She was tough enough to call your bluff and discipline you and give you a sense of boundaries and the security that comes with it. She spanked you when "Spocking" was all the trend with lesser mothers. She knew when you needed a spanking or just a nap and she didn't always give you candy though she longed to indulge you.
She was always waiting when you came in late. When you complained about it, she pretended to be asleep the way you always did when you wanted her to carry you in from the car after a long trip.
She read the Bible to you and read the Bible in front of you and did what mothers have to do to make sure the family is faithful in church. She made your dad a much better man than he ever would have been without her. She mended clothes as a labor of love and it broke her heart to see how quickly you grew out of them. She knew you were only loaned to her from God and soon the house would fall silent again. She washed mountains of dishes and truckloads of laundry. She put up food on the hottest summer days and didn't complain.
Her most sincere prayers were the ones she sent heavenward in gratitude for you. She filled your home with fragrance and beauty and music. The smell or her perfume and fresh-cut flowers, bacon for breakfast and Sunday roast. Her eyes were bright and happy and full of life. She wept though, wept and worried a thousand times for you when no one ever knew.
She rose early on holidays so you could enjoy a festive meal and an enduring memory. She planned for days and worked for hours so that in a few minutes you could gulp it down and go watch football. You didn't always thank her or help her with the dishes, but those meals have been a cherished memory for years.
She baked you special treats just to watch you eat them. Something inside made her happier the more you ate (If you could see me you would know this made my mother a very happy woman).
She wore old dresses so you could have a new ball glove. She skipped vacations and second honeymoons so you could go to camp. She limited expenses for her hobbies so you could get your band instrument. She was happy with last year's fashion so you could have this years tennis shoes. She didn't abandon the family when your dad was insensitive to her needs. She took the blame for your failures and stood back and let your dad have the glory for your successes. And having done all these things and a thousand others that make mother a sacred word, she still felt she wasn't the mother she should have been.
-- By Ken Pierpont
She carried you in her body and you made her sick every morning for weeks and weeks. She bore you into the world through intense pain but when she heard you cry and saw your wrinkled face she forgot all about it and wept tears of joy.
She fed you at her breast and her whole world revolved around you. She stole into your room at night just to watch you sleep and she was sure you were the most beautiful child on earth. She set up through the night to bathe away the fever and at breakfast your dad said; "Sleep well, honey?" oblivious to the all-night vigil. She somehow always knew when you needed her, even in the middle of the night, and she came to your room and changed your bedding and made sure you were warm and dry.
She covered your ears and gave you your coat and checked your homework and made you practice the piano and set through all your ball games and recitals like they were the seventh game of the World Series and a debut at Carnegie Hall. She nagged you to brush your teeth with words of wisdom like; "Be true to your teeth or they will be false to you." She changed your diaper and cleaned up when you were sick and washed underwear no one else would touch without a chemical suit. And who do you think always cleaned the gunk out of the kitchen sink and bathtub drain?
She made sure you had the drumstick and your dad had the breast and acted like she preferred the wings. Her oatmeal cookies made you forget the beating you took from the neighborhood bully, or the slow rate of greeting card sales.
She listened to you and didn't laugh when others would have mocked you. She believed in you when you didn't believe in yourself and prayed for you even when you didn't think you needed it. She made you think you could do things you were sure you couldn't do. She was tough enough to call your bluff and discipline you and give you a sense of boundaries and the security that comes with it. She spanked you when "Spocking" was all the trend with lesser mothers. She knew when you needed a spanking or just a nap and she didn't always give you candy though she longed to indulge you.
She was always waiting when you came in late. When you complained about it, she pretended to be asleep the way you always did when you wanted her to carry you in from the car after a long trip.
She read the Bible to you and read the Bible in front of you and did what mothers have to do to make sure the family is faithful in church. She made your dad a much better man than he ever would have been without her. She mended clothes as a labor of love and it broke her heart to see how quickly you grew out of them. She knew you were only loaned to her from God and soon the house would fall silent again. She washed mountains of dishes and truckloads of laundry. She put up food on the hottest summer days and didn't complain.
Her most sincere prayers were the ones she sent heavenward in gratitude for you. She filled your home with fragrance and beauty and music. The smell or her perfume and fresh-cut flowers, bacon for breakfast and Sunday roast. Her eyes were bright and happy and full of life. She wept though, wept and worried a thousand times for you when no one ever knew.
She rose early on holidays so you could enjoy a festive meal and an enduring memory. She planned for days and worked for hours so that in a few minutes you could gulp it down and go watch football. You didn't always thank her or help her with the dishes, but those meals have been a cherished memory for years.
She baked you special treats just to watch you eat them. Something inside made her happier the more you ate (If you could see me you would know this made my mother a very happy woman).
She wore old dresses so you could have a new ball glove. She skipped vacations and second honeymoons so you could go to camp. She limited expenses for her hobbies so you could get your band instrument. She was happy with last year's fashion so you could have this years tennis shoes. She didn't abandon the family when your dad was insensitive to her needs. She took the blame for your failures and stood back and let your dad have the glory for your successes. And having done all these things and a thousand others that make mother a sacred word, she still felt she wasn't the mother she should have been.
-- By Ken Pierpont
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Quote of the Day
"Laughter is to life what shock absorbers are to automobiles. It won't take the potholes out of the road, but it sure makes the ride smoother."
Barbara Johnson
Writer
Barbara Johnson
Writer
Red Marbles (Day 84)
During the waning years of the depression in a small Idaho community, I used to stop by Mr. Miller's roadside stand for farm fresh produce as the season made it available. Food and money were still extremely scarce and bartering was used extensively.
One day Mr. Miller was bagging some early potatoes for me. I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily appraising a basket of freshly picked green peas.
I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes. Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller and the ragged boy next to me.
"Hello Barry, how are you today?"
"H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas ... sure look good."
"They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?"
"Fine. Gittin' stronger alla' time."
"Good. Anything I can help you with?"
"No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas."
"Would you like to take some home?"
"No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with."
"Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?"
"All I got's my prize marble here."
"Is that right? Let me see it."
"Here 'tis. She's a dandy."
"I can see that. Hmmmmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?"
"Not zackley ... but almost."
"Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble."
"Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller."
Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me. With a smile she said, "There are two other boys like him in our community, all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever. When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, perhaps."
I left the stand smiling to myself, impressed with this man. A short time later I moved to Colorado but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys, and their bartering.
Several years went by, each more rapid than the previous one. Just recently I had the occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community and while I was there I learned that Mr. Miller had died. They were having his viewing that evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them.
Upon arrival at the mortuary we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could. Ahead of us in line were three young men. One was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts ... all very professional looking.
They approached Mrs. Miller, standing composed and smiling by her husband's casket. Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the casket. Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one, each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left the mortuary awkwardly, wiping his eyes.
Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and mentioned the story she had told me about the marbles. With her eyes glistening, she took my hand and led me to the casket.
"Those three young men who just left were the boys I told you about. They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim "traded" them. Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size ... they came to pay their debt."
"We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world," she confided, "but right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho."
With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three exquisitely shined red marbles.
MORAL: We will not be remembered by our words... but by our kind deeds.
Today, I wish you a day of ordinary miracles...
A fresh pot of coffee you didn't make yourself...
An unexpected phone call from an old friend...
Green traffic lights on your way to work...
The fastest line at the grocery store...
A good sing-along song on the radio...
Your keys right where you left them.
Life is not measured by the breaths we take,
but by the moments that take our breath.
One day Mr. Miller was bagging some early potatoes for me. I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily appraising a basket of freshly picked green peas.
I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes. Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller and the ragged boy next to me.
"Hello Barry, how are you today?"
"H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas ... sure look good."
"They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?"
"Fine. Gittin' stronger alla' time."
"Good. Anything I can help you with?"
"No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas."
"Would you like to take some home?"
"No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with."
"Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?"
"All I got's my prize marble here."
"Is that right? Let me see it."
"Here 'tis. She's a dandy."
"I can see that. Hmmmmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?"
"Not zackley ... but almost."
"Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble."
"Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller."
Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me. With a smile she said, "There are two other boys like him in our community, all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever. When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, perhaps."
I left the stand smiling to myself, impressed with this man. A short time later I moved to Colorado but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys, and their bartering.
Several years went by, each more rapid than the previous one. Just recently I had the occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community and while I was there I learned that Mr. Miller had died. They were having his viewing that evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them.
Upon arrival at the mortuary we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could. Ahead of us in line were three young men. One was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts ... all very professional looking.
They approached Mrs. Miller, standing composed and smiling by her husband's casket. Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the casket. Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one, each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left the mortuary awkwardly, wiping his eyes.
Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and mentioned the story she had told me about the marbles. With her eyes glistening, she took my hand and led me to the casket.
"Those three young men who just left were the boys I told you about. They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim "traded" them. Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size ... they came to pay their debt."
"We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world," she confided, "but right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho."
With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three exquisitely shined red marbles.
MORAL: We will not be remembered by our words... but by our kind deeds.
Today, I wish you a day of ordinary miracles...
A fresh pot of coffee you didn't make yourself...
An unexpected phone call from an old friend...
Green traffic lights on your way to work...
The fastest line at the grocery store...
A good sing-along song on the radio...
Your keys right where you left them.
Life is not measured by the breaths we take,
but by the moments that take our breath.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Quote of the Day
Life is a unique combination of "want to" and "how to" and we need to give equal attention to both.
- Jim Rohn
- Jim Rohn
Keepers (Day 83)
I grew up in the 40s/50s with practical parents. A mother, God love her, who washed aluminum foil after she cooked in it, then reused it. She was the original recycle queen, before they had a Name for it... A father who was happier getting old shoes fixed than buying new ones.
Their marriage was good, their dreams focused. Their best friends lived barely a wave away. I can see them now... Dad, in trousers, tee shirt and a hat, mowing the lawn or checking the oil in the car -- Mom, in a house dress, with a child's spelling list in one hand and a cooking spoon in the other. It was the time for fixing things. A curtain rod, the kitchen radio, screen door, the oven door, the hem in a dress. Things we kept.
It was a way of life, and sometimes it made me crazy. All that re-fixing, eating leftovers, reusing, I wanted just once to be wasteful. Waste meant affluence. Throwing things away meant you knew there'd always be more.
But then my mother died, and on that clear summer's night, in the warmth of the hospital room, I was struck with the pain of learning that sometimes there isn't any more.
Sometimes, what we care about most gets all used up and goes away... never to return. So, while we have it... it's best we love it... and care for it... and fix it when it's broken... and heal it when it's sick.
This is true for marriage... and old cars... and children with bad report cards... and dogs with bad hips... and aging parents... and grandparents. We keep them because they are worth it, because we are worth it. Some things we keep. Like a best friend that moved away or a classmate we grew up with.
There are just some things that make life important, like people we know who are special... and so, we keep them close!
Send this to those people who are "KEEPERS" in your life. Good friends are like stars... You don't always see them, but you know they are always there. Keep them close!
TEN THINGS GOD WON'T ASK WHEN HE MEETS YOU:
1. God won't ask how many friends you had. He'll ask how many people to whom you were a friend.
2. God won't ask what kind of car you drove. He'll ask how many people you drove who didn't have transportation.
3. God won't ask the square footage of your house. He'll ask how many people you welcomed into your home.
4. God won't ask about the clothes you had in your closet. He'll ask how many you helped to clothe.
5. God won't ask what your highest salary was. He'll ask if you compromised your character to obtain it.
6. God won't ask what your job title was. He'll ask if you performed your job to the best of our ability.
7. God won't ask in what neighborhood you lived. He'll ask how you treated your neighbors.
8. God won't ask about the color of your skin. He'll ask about the content of your character.
9. God won't ask why it took you so long to seek Salvation. He'll lovingly take you to your mansion in heaven, and not to the gates of Hell.
10. God won't ask how many people you sent this message to. He'll already know.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Their marriage was good, their dreams focused. Their best friends lived barely a wave away. I can see them now... Dad, in trousers, tee shirt and a hat, mowing the lawn or checking the oil in the car -- Mom, in a house dress, with a child's spelling list in one hand and a cooking spoon in the other. It was the time for fixing things. A curtain rod, the kitchen radio, screen door, the oven door, the hem in a dress. Things we kept.
It was a way of life, and sometimes it made me crazy. All that re-fixing, eating leftovers, reusing, I wanted just once to be wasteful. Waste meant affluence. Throwing things away meant you knew there'd always be more.
But then my mother died, and on that clear summer's night, in the warmth of the hospital room, I was struck with the pain of learning that sometimes there isn't any more.
Sometimes, what we care about most gets all used up and goes away... never to return. So, while we have it... it's best we love it... and care for it... and fix it when it's broken... and heal it when it's sick.
This is true for marriage... and old cars... and children with bad report cards... and dogs with bad hips... and aging parents... and grandparents. We keep them because they are worth it, because we are worth it. Some things we keep. Like a best friend that moved away or a classmate we grew up with.
There are just some things that make life important, like people we know who are special... and so, we keep them close!
Send this to those people who are "KEEPERS" in your life. Good friends are like stars... You don't always see them, but you know they are always there. Keep them close!
TEN THINGS GOD WON'T ASK WHEN HE MEETS YOU:
1. God won't ask how many friends you had. He'll ask how many people to whom you were a friend.
2. God won't ask what kind of car you drove. He'll ask how many people you drove who didn't have transportation.
3. God won't ask the square footage of your house. He'll ask how many people you welcomed into your home.
4. God won't ask about the clothes you had in your closet. He'll ask how many you helped to clothe.
5. God won't ask what your highest salary was. He'll ask if you compromised your character to obtain it.
6. God won't ask what your job title was. He'll ask if you performed your job to the best of our ability.
7. God won't ask in what neighborhood you lived. He'll ask how you treated your neighbors.
8. God won't ask about the color of your skin. He'll ask about the content of your character.
9. God won't ask why it took you so long to seek Salvation. He'll lovingly take you to your mansion in heaven, and not to the gates of Hell.
10. God won't ask how many people you sent this message to. He'll already know.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Quote of the Day
"If you don't design your own life plan, chances are you'll fall into someone else's plan. And guess what they have planned for you? Not much."
Jim Rohn
1930-2009, Author and Speaker
Jim Rohn
1930-2009, Author and Speaker
Don't Hope, Friend... Decide! (Day82)
While waiting to pick up a friend at the airport in Portland, Oregon, I had one of those life changing experiences that you hear other people talk about. You know, the kind that sneaks up on you unexpectedly? Well, this one occurred a mere two feet away from me! Straining to locate my friend among the passengers deplaning through the jetway, I noticed a man coming toward me carrying two light bags. He stopped right next to me to greet his family.
First, he motioned to his youngest son (maybe six years old) as he laid down his bags. They gave each other a long, and movingly loving hug. As they separated enough to look in each other's face, I heard the father say, "It's so good to see you, son. I missed you so much!" His son smiled somewhat shyly, diverted his eyes, and replied softly, "Me too, Dad!"
Then the man stood up, gazed in the eyes of his oldest son (maybe 9) and while cupping his son's face in his hands he said, "You're already quite the young man. I love you very much Zach!" They too hugged a most loving, tender hug. His son said nothing. No reply was necessary.
While this was happening, a baby girl (perhaps one or one and a half) was squirming excitedly in her mother's arms, never once taking her little eyes off the wonderful sight of her returning father. The man said, "Hi babygirl!" as he gently took the child from her mother. He quickly kissed her face all over and then held her close to his chest while rocking her from side to side. The little girl instantly relaxed and simply laid her head on his shoulder and remained motionless in total pure contentment.
After several moments, he handed his daughter to his oldest son and declared, "I've saved the best for last!" and proceeded to give his wife the longest, most passionate kiss I ever remember seeing. He gazed into her eyes for several seconds and then quietly said, "I love you so much!". They stared into each other's eyes, beaming big smiles at one another, while holding both hands. For an instant, they reminded me of newlyweds but I knew by the age of their kids that they couldn't be. I puzzled about it for a moment, then realized how totally engrossed I was in the wonderful display of unconditional love not more than an arm's length away from me. I suddenly felt uncomfortable, as if I were invading something sacred, but was amazed to hear my own voice nervously ask, "Wow! How long have you two been married?"
"Been together fourteen years total, married twelve of those." he replied without breaking his gaze from his lovely wife's face.
"Well then, how long have you been away?" I asked. The man finally looked at me, still beaming his joyous smile and told me, "Two whole days!"
Two days?! I was stunned! I was certain by the intensity of the greeting I just witnessed that he'd been gone for at least several weeks, if not months, and I know my expression betrayed me. So, I said almost offhandedly, hoping to end my intrusion with some semblance of grace (and to get back to searching for my friend), "I hope my marriage is still that passionate after twelve years!"
The man suddenly stopped smiling. He looked me straight in the eye, and with an intensity that burned right into my soul, he told me something that left me a different person. He told me, "Don't hope friend...decide." Then he flashed me his wonderful smile again, shook my hand and said, "God bless!". With that, he and his family turned and energetically strode away together.
I was still watching that special man and his exceptional family walk just out of sight when my friend came up to me and asked, "What'cha looking at?" Without hesitating, and with a curious sense of certainty, I replied, "My future!"
First, he motioned to his youngest son (maybe six years old) as he laid down his bags. They gave each other a long, and movingly loving hug. As they separated enough to look in each other's face, I heard the father say, "It's so good to see you, son. I missed you so much!" His son smiled somewhat shyly, diverted his eyes, and replied softly, "Me too, Dad!"
Then the man stood up, gazed in the eyes of his oldest son (maybe 9) and while cupping his son's face in his hands he said, "You're already quite the young man. I love you very much Zach!" They too hugged a most loving, tender hug. His son said nothing. No reply was necessary.
While this was happening, a baby girl (perhaps one or one and a half) was squirming excitedly in her mother's arms, never once taking her little eyes off the wonderful sight of her returning father. The man said, "Hi babygirl!" as he gently took the child from her mother. He quickly kissed her face all over and then held her close to his chest while rocking her from side to side. The little girl instantly relaxed and simply laid her head on his shoulder and remained motionless in total pure contentment.
After several moments, he handed his daughter to his oldest son and declared, "I've saved the best for last!" and proceeded to give his wife the longest, most passionate kiss I ever remember seeing. He gazed into her eyes for several seconds and then quietly said, "I love you so much!". They stared into each other's eyes, beaming big smiles at one another, while holding both hands. For an instant, they reminded me of newlyweds but I knew by the age of their kids that they couldn't be. I puzzled about it for a moment, then realized how totally engrossed I was in the wonderful display of unconditional love not more than an arm's length away from me. I suddenly felt uncomfortable, as if I were invading something sacred, but was amazed to hear my own voice nervously ask, "Wow! How long have you two been married?"
"Been together fourteen years total, married twelve of those." he replied without breaking his gaze from his lovely wife's face.
"Well then, how long have you been away?" I asked. The man finally looked at me, still beaming his joyous smile and told me, "Two whole days!"
Two days?! I was stunned! I was certain by the intensity of the greeting I just witnessed that he'd been gone for at least several weeks, if not months, and I know my expression betrayed me. So, I said almost offhandedly, hoping to end my intrusion with some semblance of grace (and to get back to searching for my friend), "I hope my marriage is still that passionate after twelve years!"
The man suddenly stopped smiling. He looked me straight in the eye, and with an intensity that burned right into my soul, he told me something that left me a different person. He told me, "Don't hope friend...decide." Then he flashed me his wonderful smile again, shook my hand and said, "God bless!". With that, he and his family turned and energetically strode away together.
I was still watching that special man and his exceptional family walk just out of sight when my friend came up to me and asked, "What'cha looking at?" Without hesitating, and with a curious sense of certainty, I replied, "My future!"
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Quote of the Day
"Our minds become magnetized with the dominating thoughts we hold in our minds, and these magnets attract to us the forces, the people, the circumstances of life which harmonize with the nature of our dominating thoughts."
Dirt Roads (Day 81)
What's mainly wrong with society today is that too many Dirt Roads have been paved.
There's not a problem in America today, crime, drugs, education, divorce, delinquency that wouldn't be remedied, if we just had more Dirt Roads, because Dirt Roads give character.
People that live at the end of Dirt Roads learn early on that life is a bumpy ride.
That it can jar you right down to your teeth sometimes, but it's worth it, if at the end is home...a loving spouse, happy kids and a dog.
We wouldn't have near the trouble with our educational system if our kids got their exercise walking a Dirt Road with other kids, from whom they learn how to get along.
There was less crime in our streets before they were paved.
Criminals didn't walk two dusty miles to rob or rape, if they knew they'd be welcomed by 5 barking dogs and a double barrel shotgun.
And there were no drive by shootings.
Our values were better when our roads were worse!
People did not worship their cars more than their kids, and motorists were more courteous, they didn't tailgate by riding the bumper or the guy in front would choke you with dust & bust your windshield with rocks.
Dirt Roads taught patience.
Dirt Roads were environmentally friendly, you didn't hop in your car for a quart of milk you walked to the barn for your milk.
For your mail, you walked to the mail box.
What if it rained and the Dirt Road got washed out? That was the best part, then you stayed home and had some family time, roasted marshmallows and popped popcorn and pony rode on Daddy's shoulders and learned how to make prettier quilts than anybody.
At the end of Dirt Roads, you soon learned that bad words tasted like soap.
Most paved roads lead to trouble, Dirt Roads more likely lead to a fishing creek or a swimming hole.
At the end of a Dirt Road, the only time we even locked our car was in August, because if we didn't some neighbor would fill it with too much zucchini.
At the end of a Dirt Road, there was always extra springtime income, from when city dudes would get stuck, you'd have to hitch up a team and pull them out.
Usually you got a dollar...always you got a new friend...at the end of a Dirt Road!
There's not a problem in America today, crime, drugs, education, divorce, delinquency that wouldn't be remedied, if we just had more Dirt Roads, because Dirt Roads give character.
People that live at the end of Dirt Roads learn early on that life is a bumpy ride.
That it can jar you right down to your teeth sometimes, but it's worth it, if at the end is home...a loving spouse, happy kids and a dog.
We wouldn't have near the trouble with our educational system if our kids got their exercise walking a Dirt Road with other kids, from whom they learn how to get along.
There was less crime in our streets before they were paved.
Criminals didn't walk two dusty miles to rob or rape, if they knew they'd be welcomed by 5 barking dogs and a double barrel shotgun.
And there were no drive by shootings.
Our values were better when our roads were worse!
People did not worship their cars more than their kids, and motorists were more courteous, they didn't tailgate by riding the bumper or the guy in front would choke you with dust & bust your windshield with rocks.
Dirt Roads taught patience.
Dirt Roads were environmentally friendly, you didn't hop in your car for a quart of milk you walked to the barn for your milk.
For your mail, you walked to the mail box.
What if it rained and the Dirt Road got washed out? That was the best part, then you stayed home and had some family time, roasted marshmallows and popped popcorn and pony rode on Daddy's shoulders and learned how to make prettier quilts than anybody.
At the end of Dirt Roads, you soon learned that bad words tasted like soap.
Most paved roads lead to trouble, Dirt Roads more likely lead to a fishing creek or a swimming hole.
At the end of a Dirt Road, the only time we even locked our car was in August, because if we didn't some neighbor would fill it with too much zucchini.
At the end of a Dirt Road, there was always extra springtime income, from when city dudes would get stuck, you'd have to hitch up a team and pull them out.
Usually you got a dollar...always you got a new friend...at the end of a Dirt Road!
Monday, December 7, 2009
Quote of the Day
"When you focus on something with a lot of passion, it makes it happen even faster."
Bill Harris
Bill Harris
A True Story of Tragedy and Triumph (Day 80)
Brothers Michael and Chris were both born in the early 1960s and grew up in a mostly black neighborhood in Richmond, California, right outside of San Francisco.
Both boys were well behaved in school and brought home mostly A's on their report cards all through grade school.
But coming from a working-class family with eight children, money was always tight, so the boys often had to go without. In fact, things were so tight, the two growing boys were often hungry.
So they did what many boys do when they're hungry and have no food - they stole. From the time they were five until they were well out of high school, the boys stole. They stole crackers from the cupboard in the middle of the night... they stole cookies from the grocery store... and they stole sandwiches from the sandwich shop.
If it wasn't nailed down and was worth something, Michael and Chris would find a way to steal it. They even stole money from their parents from time to time. But more often than not, they stole to satisfy their hunger.
When it was time for Michael and Chris to attend high school, they were bused across town to Kennedy High School. It was during high school that something happened that made Chris decide to change his behavior. At the end of his freshman year in high school, Chris had received three A's and three F's on his report card - the first time he had failed anything in school.
Because Kennedy High School only allowed three failures over four years, one more F and Chris would be kicked out of school. That's when he made up his mind to change. Years later Chris would recall that defining moment in his life with these words:
"I sat outside my house at the beginning of that summer knowing that I was letting my chance slip away. One more F and I'd be just another high school dropout, hanging around the neighborhood, hoping to get on with the county or to get into the service.
"At the time I didn't know my brother Rusty would end up in prison... or that my brother Harold would die without having seen much of the world. I certainly didn't know what would happen to Michael. I only knew that I had to get out of there. I wanted to see San Francisco every day, to pick out my own clothes, drive my own car, and be whatever a man could hope to be, not just a black man, not just a man from the flats of Richmond. I wanted no limitations. I wanted to be whatever a man could hope to be."
Chris' decision to change his behavior wasn't an easy one. He took a lot of grief from his friends for choosing to excel in school, instead of squeaking by with C's and D's. But that decision to change took him in an entirely different direction from his brother Michael, who resisted changing his unproductive behavior.
Chris went on to graduate from high school... graduate from college... and graduate from law school. For 15 years he worked as a Deputy District Attorney in Los Angeles, California, prosecuting murderers, drug dealers, gang members and crooked cops. Today Chris is better known as Christopher. You probably recognize him by his full name - Christopher Darden, one of the lead prosecutors in the trial of the century, the O. J. Simpson trial!
What became of Christopher's brother, Michael? After high school Michael joined the army and returned to his hometown shortly after his tour of duty. Back in Richmond, Michael continued his pattern of anti-social behavior - hustling in the streets... and stealing to support himself and a growing drug habit. On November 29, 1995, Michael Darden died at the age of 42... from AIDS.
This story of triumph and tragedy serves to remind us that when it's all said and done, who we are and what we become is determined by the choices we make.
We can choose to get better... or we can choose to get bitter. Whether we make those choices to improve at age 14, like Christopher Darden... or at age 64, like Colonel Sanders, those choices have the power to dramatically increase our value in virtually everything we do.
That's what the saying "change... or be changed" is all about. Christopher Darden changed. He changed from being a criminal... to prosecuting criminals.
He changed his attitude from being angry and sullen... to being open and accepting.
He changed from an underachiever... to an honor student who took responsibility for his grades and his education.
He changed from a disillusioned teen-ager with low self-esteem... to an optimistic young man determined to turn his dreams into reality.
His brother Michael, on the other hand, was changed. He was changed by grinding poverty... he was changed by the code of the streets ... he was changed by illegal drugS... and finally, he was changed by an insidious disease.
Christopher Darden made the tough choices... he made the changes in his life that helped him accomplish his dreams.
His brother Michael, on the other hand, took the easy way out - or at least what he thought was the easy way out. He kept hanging around the same group of loser friends... he kept practicing the same self-destructive habits. As a result of the changes they did or did not make, both men chose their fates: Christopher chose to became a successful prosecutor. And Michael chose to become just another sad story of the streets.
The sobering truth is, "Either way, you pay!" The truth is the price that Michael paid for refusing to change was much higher than the price that Christopher paid for seeking to change.
I'd like to think that Michael didn't die in vain. I'd like to think that by hearing this story, some people will finally understand the profound importance of making positive, productive changes in their lives.
When it's all said and done, you have a choice.
You can choose to become Michael.
Or you can choose to become Christopher.
You can continue to do the things that will lead to frustration and unhappiness.
Or you can make the changes that help you get what you want most out of life.
Don't choose to become like so many people who COULD HAVE become a millionaire... or who COULD HAVE become happier... or who COULD HAVE become healthier... or who COULD HAVE made a contribution - but didn't. Start making the changes you need to make TODAY... so that you can become the person you want to become TOMORROW!
Both boys were well behaved in school and brought home mostly A's on their report cards all through grade school.
But coming from a working-class family with eight children, money was always tight, so the boys often had to go without. In fact, things were so tight, the two growing boys were often hungry.
So they did what many boys do when they're hungry and have no food - they stole. From the time they were five until they were well out of high school, the boys stole. They stole crackers from the cupboard in the middle of the night... they stole cookies from the grocery store... and they stole sandwiches from the sandwich shop.
If it wasn't nailed down and was worth something, Michael and Chris would find a way to steal it. They even stole money from their parents from time to time. But more often than not, they stole to satisfy their hunger.
When it was time for Michael and Chris to attend high school, they were bused across town to Kennedy High School. It was during high school that something happened that made Chris decide to change his behavior. At the end of his freshman year in high school, Chris had received three A's and three F's on his report card - the first time he had failed anything in school.
Because Kennedy High School only allowed three failures over four years, one more F and Chris would be kicked out of school. That's when he made up his mind to change. Years later Chris would recall that defining moment in his life with these words:
"I sat outside my house at the beginning of that summer knowing that I was letting my chance slip away. One more F and I'd be just another high school dropout, hanging around the neighborhood, hoping to get on with the county or to get into the service.
"At the time I didn't know my brother Rusty would end up in prison... or that my brother Harold would die without having seen much of the world. I certainly didn't know what would happen to Michael. I only knew that I had to get out of there. I wanted to see San Francisco every day, to pick out my own clothes, drive my own car, and be whatever a man could hope to be, not just a black man, not just a man from the flats of Richmond. I wanted no limitations. I wanted to be whatever a man could hope to be."
Chris' decision to change his behavior wasn't an easy one. He took a lot of grief from his friends for choosing to excel in school, instead of squeaking by with C's and D's. But that decision to change took him in an entirely different direction from his brother Michael, who resisted changing his unproductive behavior.
Chris went on to graduate from high school... graduate from college... and graduate from law school. For 15 years he worked as a Deputy District Attorney in Los Angeles, California, prosecuting murderers, drug dealers, gang members and crooked cops. Today Chris is better known as Christopher. You probably recognize him by his full name - Christopher Darden, one of the lead prosecutors in the trial of the century, the O. J. Simpson trial!
What became of Christopher's brother, Michael? After high school Michael joined the army and returned to his hometown shortly after his tour of duty. Back in Richmond, Michael continued his pattern of anti-social behavior - hustling in the streets... and stealing to support himself and a growing drug habit. On November 29, 1995, Michael Darden died at the age of 42... from AIDS.
This story of triumph and tragedy serves to remind us that when it's all said and done, who we are and what we become is determined by the choices we make.
We can choose to get better... or we can choose to get bitter. Whether we make those choices to improve at age 14, like Christopher Darden... or at age 64, like Colonel Sanders, those choices have the power to dramatically increase our value in virtually everything we do.
That's what the saying "change... or be changed" is all about. Christopher Darden changed. He changed from being a criminal... to prosecuting criminals.
He changed his attitude from being angry and sullen... to being open and accepting.
He changed from an underachiever... to an honor student who took responsibility for his grades and his education.
He changed from a disillusioned teen-ager with low self-esteem... to an optimistic young man determined to turn his dreams into reality.
His brother Michael, on the other hand, was changed. He was changed by grinding poverty... he was changed by the code of the streets ... he was changed by illegal drugS... and finally, he was changed by an insidious disease.
Christopher Darden made the tough choices... he made the changes in his life that helped him accomplish his dreams.
His brother Michael, on the other hand, took the easy way out - or at least what he thought was the easy way out. He kept hanging around the same group of loser friends... he kept practicing the same self-destructive habits. As a result of the changes they did or did not make, both men chose their fates: Christopher chose to became a successful prosecutor. And Michael chose to become just another sad story of the streets.
The sobering truth is, "Either way, you pay!" The truth is the price that Michael paid for refusing to change was much higher than the price that Christopher paid for seeking to change.
I'd like to think that Michael didn't die in vain. I'd like to think that by hearing this story, some people will finally understand the profound importance of making positive, productive changes in their lives.
When it's all said and done, you have a choice.
You can choose to become Michael.
Or you can choose to become Christopher.
You can continue to do the things that will lead to frustration and unhappiness.
Or you can make the changes that help you get what you want most out of life.
Don't choose to become like so many people who COULD HAVE become a millionaire... or who COULD HAVE become happier... or who COULD HAVE become healthier... or who COULD HAVE made a contribution - but didn't. Start making the changes you need to make TODAY... so that you can become the person you want to become TOMORROW!
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Quote of the Day
"When we are motivated by goals that have deep meaning, by dreams that need completion, by pure love that needs expressing, then we truly live life."
Who You Are Speaks Louder (Day 79)
teach economics at UNLV three times per week. Last Monday, at the beginning of class, I cheerfully asked my students how their weekend had been. One young man said that his weekend had not been so good. He had his wisdom teeth removed. The young man then proceeded to ask me why I always seemed to be so cheerful.
His question reminded me of something I’d read somewhere before: “Every morning when you get up, you have a choice about how you want to approach life that day,” I said. “I choose to be cheerful.”
“Let me give you an example,” I continued, addressing all sixty students in the class. “In addition to teaching here at UNLV, I also teach out at the community college in Henderson, 17 miles down the freeway from where I live. One day a few weeks ago I drove those 17 miles to Henderson. I exited the freeway and turned onto College Drive. I only had to drive another quarter mile down the road to the college. But just then my car died. I tried to start it again, but the engine wouldn’t turn over. So I put my flashers on, grabbed my books, and marched down the road to the college.
“As soon as I got there I called AAA and arranged for a tow truck to meet me at my car after class. The secretary in the Provost’s office asked me what has happened. ‘This is my lucky day,’ I replied, smiling.
"Your car breaks down and today is your lucky day?" She was puzzled. "What do you mean?"
“’I live 17 miles from here."I replied. "My car could have broken down anywhere along the freeway. It didn’t. Instead, it broke down in the perfect place: off the freeway, within walking distance of here. I’m still able to teach my class, and I’ve been able to arrange for the tow truck to meet me after class. If my car was meant to break down today, it couldn’t have been arranged in a more convenient fashion."
The secretary’s eyes opened wide, and then she smiled. I smiled back and headed for class. So ended my story.
I scanned the sixty faces in my economics class at UNLV. Despite the early hour, no one seemed to be asleep. Somehow, my story had touched them. Or maybe it wasn’t the story at all. In fact, it had all started with a student’s observation that I was cheerful.
Deepak Chopra has quoted an Indian wise man as saying, “WHO you are speaks louder to me than anything you can say.” I suppose it must be so.
© Lee Ryan Miller ------
His question reminded me of something I’d read somewhere before: “Every morning when you get up, you have a choice about how you want to approach life that day,” I said. “I choose to be cheerful.”
“Let me give you an example,” I continued, addressing all sixty students in the class. “In addition to teaching here at UNLV, I also teach out at the community college in Henderson, 17 miles down the freeway from where I live. One day a few weeks ago I drove those 17 miles to Henderson. I exited the freeway and turned onto College Drive. I only had to drive another quarter mile down the road to the college. But just then my car died. I tried to start it again, but the engine wouldn’t turn over. So I put my flashers on, grabbed my books, and marched down the road to the college.
“As soon as I got there I called AAA and arranged for a tow truck to meet me at my car after class. The secretary in the Provost’s office asked me what has happened. ‘This is my lucky day,’ I replied, smiling.
"Your car breaks down and today is your lucky day?" She was puzzled. "What do you mean?"
“’I live 17 miles from here."I replied. "My car could have broken down anywhere along the freeway. It didn’t. Instead, it broke down in the perfect place: off the freeway, within walking distance of here. I’m still able to teach my class, and I’ve been able to arrange for the tow truck to meet me after class. If my car was meant to break down today, it couldn’t have been arranged in a more convenient fashion."
The secretary’s eyes opened wide, and then she smiled. I smiled back and headed for class. So ended my story.
I scanned the sixty faces in my economics class at UNLV. Despite the early hour, no one seemed to be asleep. Somehow, my story had touched them. Or maybe it wasn’t the story at all. In fact, it had all started with a student’s observation that I was cheerful.
Deepak Chopra has quoted an Indian wise man as saying, “WHO you are speaks louder to me than anything you can say.” I suppose it must be so.
© Lee Ryan Miller ------
Saturday, December 5, 2009
The Retirement Cruise (Day 78)
About 2 years ago my friend and I were on a cruise through the western Mediterranean aboard a Princess liner. At dinner we noticed an elderly lady sitting alone along the rail of the grand stairway in the main dining room.
I also noticed that all the staff, ships officers, waiters, busboys, etc., all seemed very familiar with this lady. I asked our waiter who the lady was, expecting to be told she owned the line, but he said he only knew that she had been on board for the last four cruises... back to back.
As we left the dining room one evening I caught her eye and stopped to say hello. We chatted and I said, "I understand you've been on this ship for the last four cruises". She replied, "Yes, that's true." I stated, "I don't understand" and she replied, without a pause, "It's cheaper than a nursing home".
So, there will be no nursing home in my future. When I get old and feeble, I am going to get on a Princess Cruise Ship. The average cost for a nursing home is $200 per day. I have checked on reservations at Princess and I can get a long term discount and senior discount price of $135 per day. That leaves $65 a day for...
1. Gratuities, which will only be $10 per day. And the rest can be put into the slot machines.
2. I will have as many as 10 meals a day if I can waddle to the restaurant, or I can have room service (which means I can have breakfast in bed every day of the week).
3. Princess has as many as three swimming pools, a workout room, free washers and dryers, and shows every night.
4. They have free toothpaste and razors, and free soap and shampoo.
5. They will even treat you like a customer, not a patient. An extra $5 worth of tips and your casino winnings will have the entire staff scrambling to help you.
6. I will get to meet new people every 7or 14 days.
7. T.V. broken? Light bulb need changing? Need to have the mattress replaced? No problem! They will fix everything and apologize for your inconvenience.
8. Clean sheets and towels every day, and you don't even have to ask for them.
9. If you fall in the nursing home and break a hip you are on Medicare; if you fall and break a hip on the Princess ship they will upgrade you to a suite for the rest of your life.
Now hold on for the best! Do you want to see South America, the Panama Canal, Tahiti, Australia, New Zealand, Asia, or name where you want to go? Princess will have a ship ready to go. So don't look for me in a nursing home, just call shore to ship.
P.S. And don't forget, when you die, they just dump you over the side... at no charge.
I also noticed that all the staff, ships officers, waiters, busboys, etc., all seemed very familiar with this lady. I asked our waiter who the lady was, expecting to be told she owned the line, but he said he only knew that she had been on board for the last four cruises... back to back.
As we left the dining room one evening I caught her eye and stopped to say hello. We chatted and I said, "I understand you've been on this ship for the last four cruises". She replied, "Yes, that's true." I stated, "I don't understand" and she replied, without a pause, "It's cheaper than a nursing home".
So, there will be no nursing home in my future. When I get old and feeble, I am going to get on a Princess Cruise Ship. The average cost for a nursing home is $200 per day. I have checked on reservations at Princess and I can get a long term discount and senior discount price of $135 per day. That leaves $65 a day for...
1. Gratuities, which will only be $10 per day. And the rest can be put into the slot machines.
2. I will have as many as 10 meals a day if I can waddle to the restaurant, or I can have room service (which means I can have breakfast in bed every day of the week).
3. Princess has as many as three swimming pools, a workout room, free washers and dryers, and shows every night.
4. They have free toothpaste and razors, and free soap and shampoo.
5. They will even treat you like a customer, not a patient. An extra $5 worth of tips and your casino winnings will have the entire staff scrambling to help you.
6. I will get to meet new people every 7or 14 days.
7. T.V. broken? Light bulb need changing? Need to have the mattress replaced? No problem! They will fix everything and apologize for your inconvenience.
8. Clean sheets and towels every day, and you don't even have to ask for them.
9. If you fall in the nursing home and break a hip you are on Medicare; if you fall and break a hip on the Princess ship they will upgrade you to a suite for the rest of your life.
Now hold on for the best! Do you want to see South America, the Panama Canal, Tahiti, Australia, New Zealand, Asia, or name where you want to go? Princess will have a ship ready to go. So don't look for me in a nursing home, just call shore to ship.
P.S. And don't forget, when you die, they just dump you over the side... at no charge.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Th Greatest Hitter (Day77)
A little boy was overheard talking to himself as he strutted through the backyard, wearing his baseball cap and toting a ball and bat. "I'm the greatest hitter in the world," he announced. Then, he tossed the ball into the air, swung at it, and missed.
"Strike One!" he yelled. Undaunted, he picked up the ball and said again, "I'm the greatest hitter in the world!"
He tossed the ball into the air. When it came down he swung again and missed. "Strike Two!" he cried out.
The boy then paused a moment to examine his bat and ball carefully. He spit on his hands and rubbed them together. He straightened his cap and said once more, "I'm the greatest hitter in the world!" Again he tossed the ball up in the air and swung at it. He missed. "Strike Three!"
"Wow!" he exclaimed... "I'm the greatest pitcher in the world!"
Your attitude determines how circumstances impact your life. The little boy's circumstances hadn't changed, but his optimistic attitude prompted him to give an encouraging meaning to what had happened.
What difficult time are you going through right now? Can you do something to change it? If you can, don't wait another day... make the needed changes. If you can't change the circumstance, however, change your attitude... you'll discover that circumstances won't have the last word.
The world is so constructed that if you wish to enjoy its pleasures, you must also endure its pains. Like it or not, you cannot have one without the other.
Success is not measured by what you accomplish. It's measured by the opposition you encounter and the courage with which you maintain your struggle against the odds.
You'll find all things are difficult before they are easy. The greater your obstacles, the more glory in overcoming them. So, make up your mind before you start that sacrifice is part of the package.
You've got to go through the negative before you get to the positive. The highway to success is a toll road.
"Strike One!" he yelled. Undaunted, he picked up the ball and said again, "I'm the greatest hitter in the world!"
He tossed the ball into the air. When it came down he swung again and missed. "Strike Two!" he cried out.
The boy then paused a moment to examine his bat and ball carefully. He spit on his hands and rubbed them together. He straightened his cap and said once more, "I'm the greatest hitter in the world!" Again he tossed the ball up in the air and swung at it. He missed. "Strike Three!"
"Wow!" he exclaimed... "I'm the greatest pitcher in the world!"
Your attitude determines how circumstances impact your life. The little boy's circumstances hadn't changed, but his optimistic attitude prompted him to give an encouraging meaning to what had happened.
What difficult time are you going through right now? Can you do something to change it? If you can, don't wait another day... make the needed changes. If you can't change the circumstance, however, change your attitude... you'll discover that circumstances won't have the last word.
The world is so constructed that if you wish to enjoy its pleasures, you must also endure its pains. Like it or not, you cannot have one without the other.
Success is not measured by what you accomplish. It's measured by the opposition you encounter and the courage with which you maintain your struggle against the odds.
You'll find all things are difficult before they are easy. The greater your obstacles, the more glory in overcoming them. So, make up your mind before you start that sacrifice is part of the package.
You've got to go through the negative before you get to the positive. The highway to success is a toll road.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Quote of the Day
"Stand up to your obstacles and do something about them. You will find that they haven't half the strength you think they have."
Norman Vincent Peale
1898-1993, Pastor, Speaker and Author
Norman Vincent Peale
1898-1993, Pastor, Speaker and Author
Goals Only Work When You Do! (Day 76)
Goal setting seems to be a perennially hot topic! Could it be that you hear and, perhaps, read about it so often because it's a subject that is easy to know about and difficult to practice?
It would be very surprising to find an adult in the work force who has not heard about goal setting. A Harvard study of their graduates over thirty years found that there were only a small percentage (3%) of them who actually wrote down their goals--and these were the most successful! You can be certain that every one of those students had repeatedly heard the value of goal setting. Yet only 3% actually wrote down their goals consistently. Imagine what you can do if you both write down your goals and, then, focus on them consistently every day, every week, until they are accomplished!
What is it that causes what I call the "New Year's Resolution Syndrome"? You probably know the one I'm thinking of. People make resolutions, work hard at them for a few weeks, maybe even a few months, and then forget them. Next year, they make the same New Year's Resolutions. That is the syndrome. It is self- defeating and self-sabotaging. So why do so many people do it?
They may be making goals that are too global, too extensive, too unrealistic for the time frame, body type or current finances. That is not to say that they are not worthy goals. They need to be broken apart into smaller, more specific, attainable pieces. The elephant analogy is still the best one I know of to illustrate good goal setting. You probably know it. "How do you eat an elephant? One spoonful at a time." So it is with goals. Make spoon size goals and accomplished them easily. One you've mastered this, get a bigger spoon!
You may have too many people in your life who consciously or subconsciously are unwilling or unable to support you to reach your goals. On my tape, Creating Your Life: You are the Master Mind of Your Masterpiece, I talk about your personal "tribes". If you have created agreement among your tribe members that you are a certain way, or you do certain things.
They are comfortable with you as long as you are and do those things. They may even be enthusiastic about your desire to change something or accomplish something new. Just know that, as you change and accomplish, they may not like it. They may even go so far as to put you down in small ways or make light of your accomplishments. Do you know why? It is usually because your changes and accomplishments remind them, on some levels, that they could be doing it, too...and they aren't! So surround yourself with people who want you to have what you want for yourself. Be mutually supportive and you'll all achieve your highest goals. This is called master minding.
You may have filled your schedule with so many things that there is little room for your goals to grow. We must be careful not to confuse busyness with progress. Be selective about how you use your time and what you focus on. Success often comes when you know what to leave out, rather than what to include in your life. Notice, too, how much time you spend on trivia. It has a nasty way of taking your attention from what you say you want to focus on, doesn't it? Have you ever just "had" to clean your office before you could begin your project? Then you know how this works!
Goal setting is like the pig and chicken who were out for a walk in town early one morning. The chicken became really excited when she saw a sign that said "Ham & Eggs, $2.99". She said to the pig, "Look, we've got double billing again." The pig grunted and said, "That's all right for you to say. For you, it's all in a day's work. For me, it's total commitment." Goal setting is all in a day's work. Goal achievement is total commitment.
-- By Rhoberta Shaler, Ph.D
It would be very surprising to find an adult in the work force who has not heard about goal setting. A Harvard study of their graduates over thirty years found that there were only a small percentage (3%) of them who actually wrote down their goals--and these were the most successful! You can be certain that every one of those students had repeatedly heard the value of goal setting. Yet only 3% actually wrote down their goals consistently. Imagine what you can do if you both write down your goals and, then, focus on them consistently every day, every week, until they are accomplished!
What is it that causes what I call the "New Year's Resolution Syndrome"? You probably know the one I'm thinking of. People make resolutions, work hard at them for a few weeks, maybe even a few months, and then forget them. Next year, they make the same New Year's Resolutions. That is the syndrome. It is self- defeating and self-sabotaging. So why do so many people do it?
They may be making goals that are too global, too extensive, too unrealistic for the time frame, body type or current finances. That is not to say that they are not worthy goals. They need to be broken apart into smaller, more specific, attainable pieces. The elephant analogy is still the best one I know of to illustrate good goal setting. You probably know it. "How do you eat an elephant? One spoonful at a time." So it is with goals. Make spoon size goals and accomplished them easily. One you've mastered this, get a bigger spoon!
You may have too many people in your life who consciously or subconsciously are unwilling or unable to support you to reach your goals. On my tape, Creating Your Life: You are the Master Mind of Your Masterpiece, I talk about your personal "tribes". If you have created agreement among your tribe members that you are a certain way, or you do certain things.
They are comfortable with you as long as you are and do those things. They may even be enthusiastic about your desire to change something or accomplish something new. Just know that, as you change and accomplish, they may not like it. They may even go so far as to put you down in small ways or make light of your accomplishments. Do you know why? It is usually because your changes and accomplishments remind them, on some levels, that they could be doing it, too...and they aren't! So surround yourself with people who want you to have what you want for yourself. Be mutually supportive and you'll all achieve your highest goals. This is called master minding.
You may have filled your schedule with so many things that there is little room for your goals to grow. We must be careful not to confuse busyness with progress. Be selective about how you use your time and what you focus on. Success often comes when you know what to leave out, rather than what to include in your life. Notice, too, how much time you spend on trivia. It has a nasty way of taking your attention from what you say you want to focus on, doesn't it? Have you ever just "had" to clean your office before you could begin your project? Then you know how this works!
Goal setting is like the pig and chicken who were out for a walk in town early one morning. The chicken became really excited when she saw a sign that said "Ham & Eggs, $2.99". She said to the pig, "Look, we've got double billing again." The pig grunted and said, "That's all right for you to say. For you, it's all in a day's work. For me, it's total commitment." Goal setting is all in a day's work. Goal achievement is total commitment.
-- By Rhoberta Shaler, Ph.D
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
