“If I told you what it takes to reach the highest highs, you’d laugh and say, ‘Nothing’s that simple.’ But you’ve been told many times before, Messiah’s pointing to the door, and no one had the guts to leave the temple.” – from “I’m Free” by The Who

“That’s what a writer does. A writer’s job is to tell the truth.” – Andy Rooney

I was reading an article about Andy Rooney’s death earlier this week, and I came across that quote.  Rooney, best known for his curmudgeonly opinion pieces at the end of episodes of “60 Minutes“, is one of my heroes.  Granted, I haven’t worked my way through all 1,097 of his show-enders, but what I’ve seen consistently is a man who wasn’t afraid to speak his mind.  He didn’t hold back.

Sometimes he offended people, sometimes he caused an uproar, but he always spoke his truth.  He didn’t form his opinions by sticking his finger to the wind or consulting focus groups; he knew where he stood.  Whether you agreed with him or not, whether you like him or not, you got the sense that he was a person of conviction.

So here’s a question to ponder while you reflect on Rooney’s passing: can people say the same about you?

Speaking your truth isn’t always easy.  It’s not always popular.  It’s not always going to make people like you.  And it’s the most important thing you’ll ever do.

Of course, in order to speak your truth, you have to know what it is.  Are you taking the time to reflect on what’s truly important in your life?  Are you seeking to find your truth?  Or have you checked out and resigned yourself to living out the plans others have made for you?

I read this on Steve Hamm‘s Facebook wall earlier tonight: “Building a life by design, not by default.”  Yeah…that’s it.  That’s what I’m talking about.  Steve is spot on: if you’re not choosing your truth, designing your life every step of the way, then you’re building a life by default.  Usually those defaults have been programmed by someone else, and the default programs are typical not going to give you the life you want.

Andy Rooney made a career out of speaking his truth; there’s absolutely no reason your truth should be any different or less meaningful.  You just have to develop the audacious habit of standing in it, living it, and choosing to do so every minute of every day.  And that, dear readers, is the secret sauce to a fulfilled life.

Just for fun, here’s my favorite Andy Rooney moment:

How about you?  Do you have a favorite Andy Rooney-ism?  If so, or even if you hated him, share it in the comments below.

You know what a BHAG is, right? It’s an acronym for Big Hairy Audacious Goal, and if you have any, you know they can be scary. In fact, BHAGs are all about setting your sights on something that really scares the piss out of you.

The first definition I could find for “audacious” was “extremely bold or daring; recklessly brave; fearless”; I like that. It conjures images of people running into burning towers to save the lives of complete strangers, and risking (or losing) their own lives in the process. It’s a noble attribute that we all aspire to but that very few of us ever have the opportunity to test; I don’t think it’s the definition I’d use to describe a goal. After all, just because the goal is big and hairy and makes your knees knock land your heart skip beats doesn’t mean you have to pursue it recklessly.

I like this definition better: “recklessly bold in defiance of convention, propriety, law, or the like; insolent; brazen.” Or even this one: “lively; unrestrained; uninhibited”. I think that captures the spirit of a BHAG: you’re doing something that flies in the face of your norm, something in defiance of the conventions and limitations of your current life situation, something that your family members or friends might consider insolent or brazen, something uninhibited; in short, something all you. BHAGs are about speaking and living your truth.

But how do you pursue a Big Hairy Audacious Goal, well, audaciously? After all, audacity isn’t a quality that’s encouraged in our society; in fact, audacious children are scolded, disciplined and medicated in an effort to get them to “just behave”. And it’s no different when they leave school and go off to work: audacity and middle management are blood enemies. So how do we learn to behave audaciously again?

It’s simple, really: do something that scares you. Don’t think about it…just do it. Start with something small and work your way up. Don’t ignore the fear you feel; don’t fight it or judge it as bad. Feel the fear, then do it anyways.

You’ll be amazed at how taking simple, small, audacious action on a regular basis (daily, if possible) will change you. Right now, go make a list of the things that scare you: put everything on it, the large and the small, the things that terrify you and the things that just make you sweat a little. Pick one of the not so scary things, and make it happen this week, today if you can (and you can…it’s just your fear that wants you to schedule it for Friday at noon).

And make your commitment to do it even stronger by leaving a comment on this post; if you commit to it in a public forum like this, the chances that you’ll actually do it will be much greater. When you’ve done it, be sure to come back and share that, too. Your story might be just the thing that will push someone out of a life of timidity and into a life of bold, daring, audacious action.

Well hello there; it’s been a while, hasn’t it. Don’t worry, though: I’m not going to bore you with the details this time. I’ve just been off hibernating. Ruminating. Percolating. Meditating.

The Foo Fighters have always been a favorite band of mine and their new song “Walk” (the video above) takes it to a whole new level. It’s a fantastic song on a lot of levels, but more than anything it’s the lyrics; they really hit home right now. I am, indeed, learning to walk again. I’ve certainly waited long enough. So…where do I begin?

Everything is moving. My business is steadily growing, I’m working on a couple of joint ventures that look promising, and I have a project in the works that’s looking to be incredibly fun and exciting. At the same time, I’m getting acquainted with being single for the first time in a long time. And I’m performing again.

Relationships are changing, work is changing, play is changing. And I’m definitely changing: more relaxed, more productive, in the flow, watching the unfolding of my life instead of trying to control the outcome. Letting go of my need to be in control.

Personal evolution is a funny thing; it’s only when you stop trying to evolve that it finally happens. It happens when you start showing up, appreciating the present moment, and detaching from the need to know how things are going to turn out. It happens when you stop worrying what other people are going to think and start speaking and living your truth.

I think T.S. Eliot was right:

“We shall not cease from exploration,
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.”

This place certainly looks familiar…but also different. It must be the new eyes.

Last week was another one of those “learning” weeks.

It all started on Wednesday when my BFF Carolyn posted the video for Nickleback’s song “If Today Was Your Last Day” on Facebook.  I’m not a huge Nickleback fan, but I love the message of this song.  My favorite line: “Against the grain should be a way of life. What’s worth the prize is always worth the fight.”  After all of the discoveries from the past few weeks, you’d think I’d be used to this by now, but hearing this song stopped me in my tracks and reminded me just how fragile life is and how I shouldn’t be wasting any time doing things I don’t really care about.

Then came the hard lesson: on Friday morning, I learned that a kid I had known out in Calaveras County, and who I’d spent some time mentoring when I lived there, had died in a car accident the day before.

Holy. Shit.

He was only 20…newly married…his whole life ahead of him.  And gone.  Just like that.  His Facebook page is still up…his friends have been leaving messages and tagging pictures.  Welcome to mourning in the digital age.  I keep going back and reading the new posts and thinking over and over about the delicate thread we hang on by.

And then I read this post by Johnny B. Truant, where he basically drove the point home in a way that only Johnny B. can: with a 2×4 to the back of the head.  He basically said, although much more eloquently, that if you’re planning on doing great things in your life, what the hell are you waiting for?  If you’re not doing it now, when do you plan on starting?

And you know what?  I think I’m finally starting to get it…

If you’re waiting to say “I love you” until “the time is right”, stop waiting.  Say it now.  You might not get another chance.

If you’re waiting to start  that business of your dreams until you have more time, stop stalling.  Be about it.  Now would be good.

If you’ve been thinking of changing careers to one you’ll actually enjoy, stop thinking.  Take the first step.  Now.

At the end of the day, now is all you’ve got.  Use it wisely.

________________________________________________

In loving memory of Ryan Vlavianos, 1991-2001.  You will be missed by all of us who knew and loved you.

Yesterday I promised to reveal the question that has transformed my life and taken me from playing small to playing larger than I ever have, from showing up as the janitor to embracing my inner rock star and finally, finally starting to live on purpose. But before I do, let me tell you a little about the events leading up to this discovery and how taking some of these steps can help you to finally quiet those voices in your head that keep telling you that you’re not good enough.

I’d been up visiting family in Oregon for my niece’s graduation. On the way home, we decided to stop overnight in the little town where I grew up, Cave Junction, Oregon (go ahead, Google it…you’ll be stunned). We spent Sunday night at my uncle’s house, and Monday morning we decided to putter around town for a few hours before heading back home to Sacramento.

It had been a long, long time, like a couple of decades, since I’d spent any significant time in CJ (that’s what we locals call it). I’d been back in my adult life for three occassions: the funerals of my grandparents, the funeral of my cousin, Steven, and the wedding of my niece, Kristy. Each of those trips had been accomplished, round trip from Sacramento, in a single day. Meaning in and out, no time for sight-seeing. This time was different; no one was in a hurry, and we just wandered around a bit.

And then it happened: I said I wanted to go to my old elementary school and take a picture and, as soon as I set foot on that hallowed ground, I started shaking and getting choked up, then crying. It made no sense. There I was, a grown man, standing in front of this timy little school and weeping. Ummm…WTF?

My brother Kevin had jumped out of the car with me and he suggested that we take a walk around the school grounds and see what happened. As I was walking through the halls and out on the playground, I felt like I was wrestling with a ghost. I heard all the voices of all the kids calling me “nerd” and “four-eyes” and making fun of my hand-me-down clothes. I remembered what it felt like to never quite fit in because I’d been moved up from first to second grade in the first few weeks of school because I could already read at fourth-grade level.

And it hit me: this is exactly where I learned to feel “less than”. To feel inferior. To not like myself. It was a scene that would be repeated throughout my school days, right up until I decided in high school that I’d rather be liked than be smart, and started to pretend so that I could fit in.

In that moment, a lot of questions got answered. Like why I’ve been sabotaging myself for so long. Like why I seem to be determined to prove my negative, self-destructive beliefs right by behaving in a way that supports them. Like why I’ve been acting like…well…like a big weenie for so long.

The drive home was intense. I sat quietly, staring out the window. I think my folks thought that maybe I’d had some kind of psychoyic episode or break with reality. But I was just thinking. Thinking of all the ways that I’d been letting a bunch of second-graders hold me back in my life. Thinking of all the times I’d let their voices win the debate. And realizing that it was finally all over, that I was done with it, that I’d left that ghost back on that playground.

It was a couple of days later and a few tons of emotional baggage lighter when I first discovered the most powerful question question. I’d just finished a conversation with a close friend, someone who’d proved to me the meaning of friendship and stuck by me through some pretty dark days.

As I hung up the phone, I asked myself, “Now, would someone as amazing as that really want to be my friend and stand by me through times like this if I’m really the piece of shit I try to convince myself I am?”

I was literally shocked into silence. Even the chatter in my brain stopped for a full beat as I processed the question. So I asked it again, this time demanding an answer from myself. Silence still. I had no answer, other than the obvious one. So I didn’t stop; I kept asking. “And what about _____? Would he like you if you were such a wretched human being? And _______? Would she always call to check in on you if you were all that bad?”

And so for the last ten days I’ve been playing this game; every time someone demonstrates friendship or kindness toward me, I ask myself, “Now would they have done that if you’re really the bottom-feeder you think you are?”

And, of course, the answer is always the same: no. I must not be, because I really respect that person, and I don’t want to make them wrong just so I can be right. Now, more than ever, I want to earn their belief in me by letting myself show up as the rock star they think I am.

So here’s what I want you to do: if you did your homework yesterday, you should have a list of people who really dig you. It might not be a long list to start with; hell, mine only had one name on it at the beginning. It will get longer as you start to pay attention. Got your list? Start asking yourself the question: “If I’m really the piece of shit I believe myself to be, would ________ really like me and want to be my friend?”

And here’s the tricky bit: when you start to doubt yourself and beat yourself up and act like a weenie, you have to stop and ask yourself the question. And answer it honestly. And start to pay attention to all the people who love you and believe in you. Trust me, it’s way more fun and, in the end, far more satisfying.

So now that you know the secret, how will you use the most powerful question in the universe? Be sure to share your strategies and successes in the comment section below, and thanks for reading!

You know how sometimes a person pulls a Thoreau and wanders off into the woods to do a little soul-searching, then when they come back all they want to talk about is all the existential shit they discovered while they were off with the trees, but all you really want to talk about is what a bitch Becky at work is being? Yeah, it’s gonna be one of those posts.

You see, while I haven’t been off “finding myself” in the woods, the place I was wandering was almost as scary. I’ve been on walkabout in my own head, and let me tell you: it’s no walk in Central Park in there. Unless we’re talking about the scene in that Roy Scheider/Meryl Streep flick “Still of the Night” where the crazy killer lady is just on the other side of that tunnel waiting to kill someone; it’s kind of like that Central Park.

And what did I find on this dark and dangerous excursion? As corny as it sounds, I think I finally found my self-worth.

Look, you and I have entered into a kind of unspoken arrangement: you come here because you like the things I say or because what I talk about resonates with you (thank you for that!), and I come here because I’ve realized that openness and honesty are the first steps on my road to redemption. On your side of the unspoken agreement, you’ve concurred that if you like what you read you’ll come back again, maybe leave a comment, maybe tell a friend or two, and help grow this community of rebels and non-conformists. On my side, I’ve agreed to share it all, no matter how messy, in the hope that something I say or do will be just the thing you needed to see or hear today.

A couple of months ago, that got a little edgy. Believe it or not, tomorrow will mark the two month anniversary of me going all Juliet on this blog. In some ways, it seems like an eternity has passed; in others, like it just happened yesterday. So much has changed that it hardly seems possible. There have been ups and downs, of course, and even a time or two when I came really close to plugging back in to the matrix.

And still, I wouldn’t trade a single minute of it. Or of the life I had before this, for that matter. It was all part of the fabric that represents the life I have now, and changing one thread would change the whole thing.

To those of you who used to come to this blog for business advice, I’m sorry; I know it’s been a while since there was anything really business related here. I’ll be returning to more of that, now that some of the demons have been dealt with and I can think again. I’m even toying with the idea of setting up a separate RSS feed with only business related topics. If you’d like to see that, leave me a comment below and I’ll make sure it happens.

And to those of you who’ve been on the sidelines, reading all the bloody, messy, gritty posts and cheering me on toward the finish line, I can only offer my humblest, sincerest thanks. You may not be aware of it, but it’s all of you who’ve seen me safely to the other side. You’ve helped me answer the most powerful question I’ve ever asked myself in a way that has brought me back into myself, reconnected some pieces of me that have been disconnected for a long, long time, and given me the perspective that I needed to get to the next level of my personal evolution.

And just what is that magical question, you ask?

Stay tuned. I’ll write about it next. And soon…I promise. While you’re waiting, though, there’s something you can do to prepare for it. I want you to start looking around you and taking note of all the people who love you, all the people who think you’re special, all the people who put faith in you even when you don’t think you deserve it. I promise they are out there; you just have to start looking for them.

One of the realizations I’ve come to over the past few weeks of breakdowns and breakthroughs is that I have to, at all costs, stop pretending to be someone else.  You’d think that would be pretty easy; on the surface, consciously, we don’t like to think of ourselves as posers.

And yet, every day, we do and say things that are out of line with what we really want to do and say.  I’ll wager lunch at your favorite drive-thru restaurant that you did it at least once today; I know I did.  Why do we do it?  Because we’re afraid.  Afraid of what other people will think, afraid that we might be wrong, afraid that nobody will like us if we let them know who we really are.

Meanwhile, we’re slowly dying inside.  Keep turning off those aspects of your personality that you fear, one by one, and eventually you’ll wake up one day wondering who you are and what you’ve done with your life.  Trust me when I tell you that it’s not fun.  Fruitful and necessary, yes, but not fun.  Because it’s at that point that you have to start untangling yourself from the story and sorting out which bits are the real you and which bits were the version of you that was engineered to please others.

The problem for some of us is that we’ve spent so long pleasing others that we’ve completely forgotten what, exactly, it is that’s important to us.  We get so caught up in school and work and kids and activities that we never take the time to reflect on the direction we’re headed.

It’s time to get back in touch with your dreams.  Don’t let another day go by; start now.  Take some time today, even if it’s only five minutes…hell, even if it’s only one minute…to really think about what it is that you want to do with your life.  Write it down and ask yourself why you’re not doing it; what’s holding you back?

Then, when you’ve got the vision and purged the excuses, start doing it.  You owe it to yourself and, more importantly, you owe it to the world.

We’re counting on you.  It’s time to stop pretending and start being you.  It’s time to be amazing.  You can do this!

A friend reminded me the other day of the parable (variously attributed to Alexander the Great, Cortes and others) of the adventurer who, on landing on the shores of his destination, burned his ships to send a message to his men that there was no turning back.  She had recently had a “ship-burning” moment of her own and was at the same time ecstatic and nervous.

I had mine last Wednesday, and I know exactly what she’s talking about.

You see, setting the ships on fire is fun: you get to play with matches and lighter fluid, which is always a good time.  It’s only when you’re standing on the shore, watching the flames engulf every last scrap of wood, that you get the sinking, “Oh shit!” feeling in your stomach and begin to wonder if you did the right thing and whether you remembered to pay the insurance premium this month.

Don’t get me wrong; I know that burning the ships was the right thing to do.  If I hadn’t, I don’t think I’d ever have broken away from some of the things that have been holding me back.  I’m simply acknowledging the fear, owning it, staring it in its ugly face, getting ready to let it go.

A lot has changed in just a few short days, but the biggest change has been in me.  There’s an old Zen teaching that I love: “Before enlightenment, chopping wood, carrying water. After enlightenment, chopping wood, carrying water.”  I take it to mean for me that, while the things that need to be done remain the same (i.e. making a living, paying the bills, etc.), they’ll never be quite the same because I’m a different person than I was last week.

Here we go.  No more pretending; time to start showing up as me and doing what I need to do to fulfill my mission.  More on that in a future post; let it suffice to say for now that I’m more excited than I’ve ever been.

In the meantime, there’s something I want to say to you.

The reason for last week’s breakdown was simple: I’d been pretending and, as it turns out, you can only do that for so long before it catches up with you.  I know I’m not alone.  There are a lot of us pretending right now, pretending that we’re doing what we want to do and that everything is okay, while inside we’re dying a little every day.  Sound familiar?

So here’s what I want to say: it’s alright to stop pretending now.  In fact, it’s more than alright; if you want to start living, it’s a necessity.

Yes, it will be hard, and yes, it will upset the people in your life who would prefer that you keep pretending so as not to disturb their sleep.  You can’t change those things.  All you can change is you.

The good news is that once you stop pretending, life just gets better every day.  I’m only four days into my new life, and I can tell you without hesitation that I made the right choice.

Neil Senturia is not your typical…well, he’s not your typical anything, at least as far as I can tell from his new book I’m There for You, Baby – The Entrepreneur’s Guide to the Galaxy, Volume 1 (WARNING: affiliate link).  What I can tell you for certain, though, is that Mr. Senturia knows how to tell a story.

I haven’t had this much fun reading a book since I was a kid reading They Shoot Canoes, Don’t They? by Patrick McManus (yep, another affiliate link…sorry, but it’s just easier than logging out of Amazon).  I don’t often laugh out loud when I read business books, but this one had me chuckling, snickering and, occasionally, guffawing (I may have just made that word up…sorry about that).  Even better, I learned a thing or two along the way.

The book is a series of stories built around The Baby Rules, a set of entrepreneurial truisms culled from Senturia’s experiences as a real estate mogul, venture capitalist, Hollywood writer and all around deal-making addict.  But don’t make the mistake of believing everything you read; Rule #109 states “Never let the facts get in the way of a good story.”  Senturia’s grasp of the ridiculous, his razor-sharp wit, and his blunt-force-trauma style of truth-telling make for a great read.

One of my favorite lessons, and one that made me stop and think about my own journey, is Rule #19: “Entrepreneurs do not do it for the fame or fortune – they do it for revenge.”   I’ve been thinking about that one ever since I read it; it’s been dogging my steps, haunting my sleep, and generally driving me nuts for weeks.

Because I’m realizing how true it is, at least sometimes.  I find myself driven, sometimes to extreme measures, by a deep desire to prove that I can do it, no matter what anyone says.  The voices in my head, the ones that belong to former teachers and family members and well-meaning friends, telling me to settle down and settle in and settle?  I’ve got a middle finger that would like to speak with you.

And that’s the kind of festering truth that I’m There for You, Baby rips the scab off of.

Thank you, Neil Senturia, for a fantastic book.  And thank you for breaking some shit in my head that needed breaking. Consider me a fan.