Category: post

Many of us tend to mark our relationships based upon a place, experience, or time period they began. For instance, I have friends I have known since high school. Others that began at past jobs. Still others are tied to events. For instance, I met my wife when her computer broke through a mutual friend who called on me for help.
These marks also infer a relative timeline for the length of the relationship and, sometimes, even its depth. If I tell you about my friend Dan who I have known since high school, that automatically tells you I have known him for a fairly long time. You might even infer that the relationship was a close one if we are still friends after all these years.
If I tell you about a guy I used to work with a particular company, and you also know that this company closed in the late 1990’s, you now know I have known him for a bit more than 10 years and, once again, if we are still in touch it must have been a relationship of some meaning.
We have so many more places we are now. For example, I have friends on Twitter that I have known since we met on Jaiku. I can use that now departed social network as a place – a point of first contact – as any other. Saying this, you know roughly how long I have known them in that context. And what does the fact that we remain friends infer? Perhaps one might guess that we followed each other to this new network after the other one died to maintain that connection.
I’m sure some of us have a few friends that we know from, say, Facebook that are not on Twitter so we maintain a presence on both. Still other relationships can blossom in online forums or blogs that we frequent and comment on.
I wonder if will one day, many years from now, I’ll be able to say, “I’ve known her since Twitter” and have that impart the same sort of immediate understanding of length and importance as high school does?
All of this is to say that these virtual places are as much a point of beginning and ending as those we have long-held in the real world. And, just like school or business or events, these virtual places begin and end, open and close, occur and stop. Yet, as well, the connections and relationships are what remain and the strongest transcend.

You should have seen their faces.
This group of about twenty men and women had just spent the past thirteen hours beginning at one in the morning doing the hardest and most physically demanding activities of their lives. Over the last seventeen miles they had run, crab walked, bear crawled, alligator walked, elephant walked, carried a giant fallen tree trunk (for three hours), and even ran for a mile or two carrying another person across their shoulders. When they weren’t moving forward, they had done push ups, squats, lunges, and more. Some of it while standing in a cold river or lake. All of it, while carrying a backpack weighing forty-to-sixty pounds that was never allowed to touch the ground (as well as a couple of additional twenty-five-plus pound weights the team also had to figure a way to manage).
They thought at this point it was over. After a grueling five-mile Indian run through the busy streets in the heart of the city, they thought there could be no more. Mission accomplished. That they would get their reward (a small patch and the knowledge of having completed the course) and find a way home. They were wrong. There was more. And, when they discovered this, their faces bore the weight of every minute that had come before. In their eyes, the thousand yard stare of a people lost in suffering and pain. Yet, when the word was given to go that extra mile, carrying a buddy, they rose up, gathered what remained of their resolve, and did it.
I don’t consider myself very handy. In fact, when it comes to most DIY home fix-up stuff, I’m actually quite intimidated. Mainly because I have no clue where to start or what to do if something goes wrong. So, you might imagine what was going through my head when we purchased a house for a price so low that we could have put it on a credit card had the closing company been able to accept them. The caveat being, of course, that it needed a lot of work. Not as much as one might think, given the price. Yet, a fair amount. Enough so that it is things I have never done before. I’m like a deer in headlights.
Right now, our plumber can’t continue his work until the bathroom sub-floor is replaced. The Instructions show two people, one weekend, and a skill level of moderate-to-hard. I’m one person, with a few hours, and a skill level of w-t-f. Yet, here I am, about to load up my car with a crowbar, a reciprocating saw, my broken-toes, and a hefty helping of gumption and devil-may-care.
My four-year old daughter, Beatrix, always — Always! — tries food she has never had before. Despite the fact she knows she won’t like it. She tastes it, chews it, swallows it, and then decides. It does not matter what it is, she will always give it a fair shot. I contrast this with the large number of people who will refuse to eat something just based on how it looks or sounds. Not my Beatrix.
All of us have struggles, challenges, fears, and other impediments that we must overcome on a daily basis. More often than not, our boundaries are illusions created by the fear of what we are truly capable of. All of us, at some point, push through this fear and learn a valuable lesson in the process.
That, in ways both large and small, we are all superheroes. We move faster than speeding bullets (that we pull the trigger on), are more powerful than locomotives (that we purposefully step in front of), and bound tall buildings (of our own making) with a single bound. A secret identity we don’t ever see or admit to. Yet, when the task calls for it, we step into the booth as a person incapable and step out the other side as another doing things we never dreamed we could.
This essay is dedicated to GORUCK Challenge Class 167. A group of superheroes if there ever was.

I installed a Nest Learning Thermostat in our principle home today. I have to say that I am really impressed all around. In fact, it is one of the most impressive technology experiences I have ever had. I think, one reason for this is the same as one found in most Apple products — magic.
Installation was a breeze for me. I’m normally one of those people who are intimidated by such things. That said, in preparation for its arrival I watched the very clear instruction videos on their support page and it eased any fear I had considerably. It made it look so straight forward and easy. It seemed like magic.
Then, initial setup was equally simple and intuitive. There was help exactly where you needed it and clear simple language to guide your way in the few places it was. Every single step had an element of “A Ha!” that is rare these days in most things. And the fact that things just worked provided the “Ta da!” that magic requires.
Then, in the few hours of use, seeing how it operates and begins to learn, is the prestige. We left out for a couple of hours this evening, and arriving home, it was clear it had noticed and began to cool the house down. We arrived home and, in just a few minutes, the heat kicked on and it was back up to temperature within just a few minutes. Magic.
It remains to be seen how well it will be able to “learn” from us. We are an edge case. Both my wife and I keep irregular schedules that take us in and out of the house often many times a day. We do not have a pattern. Thus, even trying to “teach” it would likely not work. So, I suspect, this will be an interesting real world test. Even if it is not able to “learn” our home and away patterns, the ability to turn the heat down when we are away for a few hours and up in advance of our return will likely be pleasure enough alone.

 
There is a playground near our house. Relatively new. It is called the Tot-Lot and it is purpose-built, as the name would suggest, for children aged five years or less. We take Beatrix, my four-year old daughter, to play there several times a week. It has quickly become the neighborhood destination for families with young children.
The play equipment at this scale is age-appropriate but also just a tad bit challenging. There are some slides, a rope net for climbing, a balance beam, a chair swing, and a few other standards one would expect.
Instead of grass, there is a surprisingly soft professional grade AstroTurf. I was dubious of this choice at first. Worried
Recently, Beatrix has really taken to the monkey bars. This took some time for her to try.
“What if I fall, Daddy?”, she would ask.
“Well, you might and that is OK. The best part of falling is that you can get back up and try again.”, I would respond. It sounded good in theory at least.
Her skills and abilities get better with each turn on them. The very first time, with a bit of help up, she would only hang on the first bar. Then, she learned how to jump up and reach it by herself. Now, she can traverse the full set with no difficulty. Each time we go to the playground, she seems to take it just a bit further.
This last time, she added a twist that even I did not expect and managed to find a new level to her ever-increasing bar skills. She now jumped from the small platform to the second bar. Deftly grabbing on mid-air. Her fear of falling seemingly gone.
The first time she did it, my heart nearly stopped. Yet, she succeeded. I was amazed and proud.
The second time immediately followed the first (I got a video of it this time). She made a couple of cautious attempts before, finally, throwing caution to the wind and doing it again. I was even prouder still.
The third time, she was clearly tired out. Her bravery and confidence overcame her body though so she got up on the platform. This time, no cautious test jumps. She just jumped. But, this time, her hands slipped and missed. She twisted mid fall and landed like a pancake — the whole front of her body hitting the ground at once. It was one of those terrifying parental moments where as you run to their aid you start to wonder what the doctor bill will be.
She was crying hard as I knelt down to help her up and comfort her. I took a good scan and there appeared to be no injury. “You’ll be OK, honey.” I assured. “Does it hurt anywhere?”
She shook her head no. Her crying slowed and then, to my amazement following such a hard fall, she said, “I want to try it again.”
I took a deep breath and realized that this was as much a test to my fear and confidence as it was for hers. I let her go and watched as she got back up on the platform. By the time she was ready for a re-attempt she looked as if nothing happened. I was so proud. I could sense she was too.
She jumped a couple of more times and made it just fine. But, again, on the third time her body could not keep up. She lost her footing and fell off the platform, face first into the AstroTurf. I was sure she broke her nose this time. I rush down and pick her up. She is crying even harder than the first time. I pick her up and lightly caress her face. Marks from plastic grass embedded in her cheeks. I check her nose. It appears to be fine.
“I want my Mommy!”, she wailed.
“Mommy’s not here.”, I said, “Do you want to go home?”
She shook her head yes.
“Well, let’s go sit on the bench and calm down a little before leaving.”, I said. She agreed. So, I carried her over to the bench on the other side of the park, placed her on it, and sat down next to her.
After a few minutes, the crying stopped. She took a final deep breath, turned to me, and asked, “Can I try again, Daddy?”
“Sure, honey. Sure.”
I was even prouder still.

“Have I reached that age, Doc?”, I asked the Optometrist towards the end of my last eye appointment. I was past due for new glasses and I had a gut feeling I was going to need bifocals.
“You’re kind of right on the edge.”, he said sensing my indignant resignation. “I think you would benefit from them today. But, you could get by a few more months before you really need them. Tell you what, I’ll write the prescription both ways. That way, if you decide you don’t want them right now, you can always get the bifocals when you are ready.”
I’m sure the doctor sees people like me everyday. He tells us we need bifocals. But he knows we are not quite ready for bifocals. We are not quite ready to face that truth. The truths we must admit to ourselves are often the hardest we have to tell. He knows that some people, when on the edge, will choose the option that is easier to face and not get the bifocals. Then, they will get their new glasses, realize that they can’t read anything smaller than twelve point type unless it is held at arm’s length, and thus be forced to face the truth. Then, and only then, will they be ready for them, despite the fact they already needed them.
I’m ready now.

The majority of people that I interact with on a daily basis live on the other side of the planet. A few years ago that would have seemed bat-poop crazy—but I think this is starting to shift. People are becoming more world-social and making friends across the globe, some they may never meet in person. Relationships (friendship and love) are being forged online more and more often these days and the Internet is becoming a tool to help people interact on an emotional level. Twitter may be text at 140 characters at a time, but it is an enabler of conversation that can spill out in to many different forms.

via It's More Than Just 140 | mykehurley.net.
A beautiful post by Mr. Hurley on the many benefits he has received from Twitter. I too, can say that I have had a similar experience. That said, in order to receive such benefits, like any tool, one must use it with the right intentions and a mindful approach. Seems as if his are in the proper place.

I was on a flight to Washington DC. This was the first leg. Minneapolis to Milwaukee. I was rushing out, last minute, to be with my father. A medical emergency. His heart had decided to fail. The doctors were unsure why. He had been admitted for further testing and, well, to keep him alive. Not my best day at all.
My row mate was an attractive young lady. Early thirties would be my best guess. Long dark thick hair pulled up and back to keep it out of the way, lest the strands have their way with the frame of her face. And that face! Sturdy. Midwestern. A lesson in beauty through strength. I could see the glimmer of stories unfold before she even began to tell them.
Small talk ensued. I told her about the reasons for for my trip to DC. She offered her heartfelt concern. I wished not to dwell and asked her about her trip — as much out of distraction as interest. I’m glad I did. She too was headed out to DC.
“What is bringing you out to DC?” I asked.
She explained that she was a Farmer. Had been all her life. Like her Father. She lived in a small town she was certain I had never heard of. In the northwest corner of Iowa. She worked a piece of her father’s five hundred acres. She belonged to an independent farmer advocacy group and was going out to DC as part of this to talk to legislators about ious issues. This was her first time doing so. She was excited about the trip and experience.
I said, “Wow. That’s awesome. I never would have pegged you as a farmer but I have tremendous respect for it. What do you grow?”
She explained they had decided to start experimenting with organics on her portion. They had some preliminary success with a couple of crops and were expanding this year to more. She explained in laypersons terms the ious challenges and why it is so different yet exciting. That her father had even started experimenting a bit with the animals he raised too.
“I don’t pretend to know much about farming but I have read a bit and know what tremendously hard work it is.”, I stated. “I mean, especially as an independent family farmer. From Big Agra to diminishing returns you must be beset on all sides. What keeps you doing it?”
“You gotta love the land.”, she said. Her whole tone of voice and body language changed when she said it. There was an unassuming yet palpable passion behind every word. “Not just the way it looks. The way it feels to be in it. To be a part of it. I wake up before sunrise every morning just itching to get up to my neck in it. The smell too. I smell like shit all day but that shit is part of the land and the land needs it as much as it needs me. I go to bed each night broken, exhausted, yet thankful. Not just thankful for the three showers I need to wash it off me but for the chance to do it all over again tomorrow. I love the land and my place within it. You have to.”
“You have to love the land…”
This farmer realizes that the relationship with her work, like any good relationship is, and should be, reciprocal. That the work, the land, would not be as good without her commitment to it. And, in turn, it returns that commitment to her. And, because of her intimacy with it, it returns that much more.
This. This passion. This love for what we are born to do. Whatever that is for each of us. Like her, our days should be filled with it. Every moment. We should wake up each day inching to get up to our necks in it. To be covered with it. To be a part of it. To be intimate with it.
As a writer, I have to love the words. I desire to wake each day and get up to my neck in them. I want to be covered with their stench. I want to end each day broken and exhausted from them yet anxious in the anticipation of my return to them tomorrow. And, by loving the words, they return that commitment to me. I have to love the words…
How about you? How about your land? Do you love it? Do you need it as much as it needs you? Why? Why not?
Want to know what you should be doing with your life? Find the shit you want to be covered in. Start there.

I’m pleased to announce the launch of my new book, enough. It is available starting today in Paperback, ePub, and Kindle format. (iBooks coming soon, Apple willing. ePub works great on iPad though)
This series of original essays help to answer the question, “What is enough?”.
Enough is a very personal metric. Like our center of gravity, each of us must find what is enough by swaying from less to more until a comfortable medium is found.
The goal, then, is not to find what is, or will be, enough forever. That is impossible. The goal is to discover the tools and strategies you need to find what is enough for you right now and provide the flexibility to adjust as the conditions change.
The essays in this book explore many of the methods, practice, and strategies needed to meet this goal and discover what enough means to you.
This book represents years worth of work exploring this topic and writing the book. For those not in the know, that the first draft of this book was written entirely on iOS. So, to some, that may serve as invitation alone to purchase a copy and check out just what is capable on a post-PC device.
I know you will enjoy it and walk away the better for it.
I should also mention that, in celebration of the new release, the price of my first book, Keeping It Straight, has dropped for a limited time. If you have not read it yet I would be humbled if you bought both.
Finally, a heartfelt thanks to Randy, Penny, and Aaron at my publisher, First Today Press, for once again taking my words and turning into something worth reading. If you have a book in you I can think of no better group of people to help you get it out.
Once again that is…
Paperback  • ePub • Kindle

My Great Grandmother Handy always kept her kitchen clean. Despite the fact that it seemed she spent most of the day within it in a state of constant activity.
She would awake early to start cooking breakfast for my Great Grandfather “Pa Pa” Handy and whomever else was staying over at the time. Eggs. bacon, biscuits, potatoes, fresh squeezed orange juice, and half of a grapefruit for Pa Pa. Just as routine, not a single pan was waiting to be cleaned by the time any of it hit the dining table. The kitchen looked just as it did before it all started. And, one could be assured, it would be just as clean only minutes after the dishes were cleared.
She often would tend the garden and start the laundry following breakfast. Which, in my child mind, never seemed to take that long. She would return to the kitchen with a full basket of figs freshly harvested from the tree in the yard. These figs found their way swiftly into a pressure pot and then into mason jars for preserves. The kitchen remained tidy the whole time. The only evidence to the contrary were the tools of task being actively used. Once their job was done they always swiftly and effortlessly returned to the place from which they came.
Lunch and Dinner seemed to be a blur of a single meal in her kitchen. As soon as one was served, preparation for the next was already underway. There was never a time in that span of hours that a pot was not on the stove, a pan was not in the oven, or a serving bowl or utensil was not being used. But, as I’m sure you can surmise, by the time it was all served, consumed, and cleared, the kitchen was spot free and ready for its business the following the day.
Even more amazing was that everything else got done as well. The laundry, the gardening, the grocery shopping, the cleaning of the rest of the house, and tending to Pa Pa’s growing list of needs as his health began to turn. One woman against a mountain and she managed to plant her flag at the summit each day.
It was many years after she passed that I was able to truly appreciate any of these minor miracles, let alone care enough to dissect how they were achieved. But age, passing time, and having the responsibilities of maintaining a family and household of my own has made me ponder my Great Grandmother’s deft skills regularly. How did she manage to do it? How did she juggle all of those tasks? The demands and needs? No matter the day or her own health or conditions?
I don’t have all the answers to these questions but I have some clues — especially in the kitchen cleaning department.
Before she started cooking she filled the sink with soapy water. Whenever she used a pan, as soon as she was done with it, she washed it, dried it, and put it away. Instead of saving up all of those ten to fifteen second actions until they added up to an hour of washing after the meal, she learned in her years of experience that it was better for her to do them right away. That the time following a meal could be better spent on the next task than having the detritus of one create another. Remove pan from oven, plate food, wash, dry, put away, serve.
This memory lands home for me these days when I go to add yet-another-task to my list. More often I find myself thinking this — Would I rather add it to the list or would I rather add it to my journal? One is a record of things to do. The other, a record of things already done.
I know what Grandmother Handy would say.

As I write this, I am at Mall of America, the largest enclosed shopping mall in the country. I’m sitting on a chair that is right between the Apple Store and Microsoft Store. Yes they are, literally and not accidentally, right across the hallway from each other. The Apple Store was here first of course. For many years. I was here for its grand opening. Now that Apple has proven great success in retail, Microsoft is seeing the potential and opening its own similar stores as close to the Apple Stores as possible all across the country.
The cultures of these two tech behemoths could not be any more worlds apart and that gulf is easily apparent when contrasted by such short distance.
In one you have the clean minimalist designs that Apple is long famous for. Whites walls, blonde wood tables all designed to accompany and highlight the brushed aluminum iDevices for sale within.
In the other, bright reds, blues, greens, and yellows. Wrapped around the length and inset in the walls is one long giant video screen that is constantly changing with stock photos of cheerful people, screen captures from XBox games, and Metro UI suggestive tiles.
In one, you have a bustle of activity. People getting help in a iety of ways from young hip folks in matching blue shirts. No employee, far more than I can easily count, is want of anything to do Each has a customer they are attending to and it looks like others are waiting for their turn. Everyone is standing as there is nowhere to sit and, in any other environ, one might mistake it for a really cool party full of conversations you’d be tempted to eavesdrop on.
In the other, there are more employees than customers. You can tell who they are simply because their shirts are the same yellow, or green, or red, or blue of the Windows logo outside. The customers that are inside are sitting and surfing – perched upon on the stools that are at each demo laptop and desktop. I can see over the shoulder of the few from the other side of the glass. They are mostly on Facebook. The employees don’t seem to mind. One might mistake it for an internet café if one did not know otherwise. The customers seem to be treating it as one at least.
It is the chairs or lack thereof that really pique my interest the most. I wonder if they, more than anything else I see, speak the loudest to the differences between these two stores and these two companies. The existence of these chairs seem to me to be a symbol. Not a wholly negative or positive one. But a mark of something deeper all the same. Certainly an important distinction between how these two companies want you to engage with the products they have for sale in the places they have built to sell them.
In some ways, the chairs could be perceived as symbol of hospitality. But, looked at another way, they communicate inactivity and complacency. Standing, even when still, looks like activity more so than sitting does to me. Perhaps when a customer enters a store such as this, and can sit down and use the equipment without interference or engagement with the staff, they become less motivated to do anything more than that. Why buy the laptop when you can have the surfing for free? Perhaps when they enter a similar store without chairs, and are engaged on a regular basis by friendly but determined staff, there is a sense to take some action, even if that action is to leave empty-handed.
I wonder how much the Apple Store experience would change if there were place to sit at every station. Would the customers still buy or would they check their Facebook for free? I wonder how much the Microsoft Store experience would change by simply removing them.