Life Perspectives Archives - Page 6 of 16

Everyone Is An Artist

30 May 2013May 30, 2013Eric

I've made the point before, but everyone is an artist and everyone has an art. This post is about two views of art. One is rooted in arrogance and the other humility.

I find it strange and sobering when I encounter an artist who is arrogant. I can say this because of the days of my own arrogance. Not to mention, my current struggles with the subtleties of arrogance. My struggles are rooted in the arrogance of my own knowledge (often torn down when I learn something new) and the age-old practice of not slowing down. The beauty of this struggle is in not surrendering and to be found fighting.

The big take away for the arrogance view is that it prostitutes the glories of art. When an artist begins to take credit, look down-upon or just ignores, there is a serious problem. If truth be told the artist is very insecure and can't handle the beauty in their hands. Crazier still, the artist usually has someone in their lives to keep things real. Man, is that like a glass of cold water on a hot summer's day. But often the artist will banish those folks, out of fear, the fear of being exposed.

The view of humility is rooted in hope. I know it is for me. A hope that I can become what is pure and lovely. That all my mistakes don't make it too late. That if I embrace humility, I will be given a second chance to create something beautiful. Maybe a few chances, if I just remember the gift and remember what I could have turned into.

Yes, it is difficult to have and hold the view of art that is humility. It surely means you'll cry, your heart will break and the world will laugh at you. Most of the truly great artists have experienced this, often in anonymity. Humility is the surest path to art that will make you happy and make you alive. Anything less, is akin to sleep walking or living-death.

Everyone is an artist.

A Minute in Boston

25 April 2013April 25, 2013Eric

What happened in Boston has left me without a conclusion. I am still processing all that was, and is, a tragic event. Maybe it comes down to a minute in Boston. A minute to reconsider, a minute to stop and text an I love you message or a minute to react to what was not supposed to happen.

Many of us in America are searching for answers. Inside of us is this inescapable feeling that what was over there is now permanently over here too. Maybe that's an inherently good thing. The recognition that we do live in a dangerous world-terrorist or not. Maybe we now understand that taking things for granted is no longer an option to be chosen by accident.

A minute in Boston, or anywhere else, should teach us the power in "now" and living life accordingly. No more waiting on a government to fix things or restore things, no more worshiping at the alter of career, no more depending on someone else to do what only you can do.

If we don't get this right soon, history will swallow us whole.

The Week That Was

16 March 2013March 16, 2013Eric

This past week was definitely the week that was. It started with a call from my mom needing to be taken to a emergency care facility. It turned out to be nothing major, but I'll confess I saw ghosts. Ghosts from four years ago, when my deceased father was making seemingly "no big deal" visits to the ER.

As I'm sitting the waiting area for my mom, my wife calls and tells me company has filed Chapter 7 bankruptcy and the entire company shutdown. To add measure to this, no severance, ho healthcare (the company disbanded the group health plan prior to entering the bankruptcy), no job.

Ok, I was a little disappointed!

The irony is on two fronts for me:

I went though a similar experience in mid-December of last year. One of my entrepreneur pursuits was negatively impacted when a contract was terminated without warning. Again, game over! I have since regained footing with a local tech startup. You're probably thinking; "why take on more risk?" Part of my DNA.
I have experienced sudden change/loss in such a way that when I got my wife's news, it didn't cause me to drive off the road. I think the magical formula set in after my second goodbye encounter with corporate America. I am thankful for this and it has made me a better man, husband and dad.

Just so you know, we're (my family and I) are taking a hit from this situation. Don't want you thinking I'm Superman. There are things we've got to figure out and adjust to. Here's a few of the issues we're working through:

Thankfully, my wife got 2 job offers (in writing) in a matter of 48 hours. She'll be starting a new venture in the next week or so. The drawback is around healthcare. I've got to go without insurance for approx. 90 days, until the benefits kick-in again. As someone with Type I diabetes, I'm not thrilled, but I was able to secure coverage for my wife and kids during this interim period.
Change. Enough said.
Getting back money owed from a poster child organization for why sociopaths should only live in North Korea.

Stay tuned.

What Ed Reminded Me Of

7 February 2013February 7, 2013Eric

This post came over to me as a gift last week. It's from Ed Batista, a writer and coach, out of the San Francisco area. He does some marvelous work with graduate students at Stanford and beyond. Needless to say, I count him as a source of inspiration and fellow pilgrim.

The gift of the post was beautiful and it reminded me of some things easily missed. I just couldn't help thinking about Ed's view and impression of my writing. His words encouraged me that my voice, my notes, are coming out. It wasn't as if I doubted this, it's just great to know that it is connecting as I desire. Ed's comments also wrap around some transitions I'm going through relating to Epic Living, entrepreneur pursuits and life (of course). More to come on this front in the coming weeks.

I believe my Father (I'm trying to get out of just calling him God) speaks and works through connecting the dots. You know, one conversation a month ago that connects to an email seemingly out of the blue. It's a great way of communicating.

So there is my wife, Eileen, Marc, and Ed over a 45-day period exhorting, suggesting, confirming.

I am grateful.

A Lady Named Giselle

30 January 2013January 30, 2013Eric

A couple of months ago I met a lady named Giselle. It was a chance meeting. She was the physical therapist assigned to my mom who is embarking on the journey of knee replacement surgery. As I sat with my mom during the interview, Giselle asked about my dad who passed away in January of 2009. This information must have been in my mom's records. She seemed genuinely concerned as she reviewed my mom's history. After a brief pause she explained that she had lost her mom three weeks prior.

A chapter opened.

Giselle spoke much of her mom. She mentioned her mom's career achievements, how much her father loved her and how sudden she passed after being diagnosed with cancer. I just listened, as I remembered my own words after my dad's passing. I felt like I was watching a movie of my own life.

Giselle then surprised me by asking about my own journey through grief. I explained to her that my dad's passing looked nothing like what I thought it would have. I was one of those people who believed they could prepare for the fateful day. Consequently, I experienced what the Valley really looked like from my own experience. A cruel teacher at times.

I went on to tell her that after his funeral, it felt like the earth (at least where my dad existed inside of me) was scorched. As if some great fire had consumed all that I knew. But with all of that, a shoot of green appeared from that charred ground. I wasn't paying much attention and I was consumed by who was lost. I'm sure she understood the process of looking for the face and presence of someone you love. I told her that in that place, over time, gave way to what began looking more and more like a flower. As more time passed the flower bloomed into something like I'd never seen before. The most beautiful flower where Charles once was.

I told Giselle that my little story was my best attempt at describing my process of dealing with my dad's passing. Funny thing was, I'd never told anyone that story until that day and time. Amazing how life unfolds. Amazing.

5 Things I Haven’t Forgotten

28 January 2013January 28, 2013Eric

The following are 5 things I haven't forgotten along the way of my travels:

It will be my life that will be measured in eternity. God won't be spending 60% of his time with me asking about my career and money choices. It'll be a part of the conversation, just not as big as it often can be in this world.
Relationships are hard work. In America, we have this obsession with ease and pleasure. In some areas this is totally appropriate. In a relationship (you fill in the blank) ease and pleasure come as a result of the hard work. It's hard work because anything worth your time should require something big from you.
I can't fix or save anybody. All I can do is offer with encouragement and kindness. The choice to do something is totally out of my control. After watching many of my family members experience the affects of alcohol and drug abuse, I know this well.
Change is a part of life and you'd better be prepared to face ridicule for embracing it. I never had as much peace as when I was in the box that many had grown comfortable with. Some of this is people getting used to change, but the remainder is from the "crowd." I now understand that the two are intertwined.
I don't have to have all the answers.

The Moment

10 January 2013January 10, 2013Eric

I know many are in goal-setting overload right now and as a follow-up to Tuesday's post, I'm going to chime in. Just not in a way you might expect. Here goes:

Don't set any goals for 2013.

The reason is quite simple. Until you have a moment, the moment, setting goals is more wishful thinking. You may feel better that you created a list or have a feeling of temporary validation, but it will fade. Trust me.

In my own journey I have found myself confronted with "the moment" multiple times, even when I didn't want to. The moment is a place and time where there's no more BS and there is the appearence of a crossroads. Sometimes it's life and death, sometimes it's a place where I've been humbled. Either way, the bridge was burned and change was waiting just beyond the flames and embers.

In 2004, my dad had an aortic aneurysm. It was caught in time and they operated to quickly address a very dangerous condition. My dad didn't tolerate anesthetic very well, so his recovery from surgeries could be dicey. On the day of the surgery, my mom called me at work to tell me that he wasn't coming out of the post-surgery anesthetic well and the doctors were concerned.

I went to the hospital that day "put out." I wondered how bad could it really be. You see, I was in a place of prosocuting my dad for his past sins. And I thought this was just another situation to get through. Besides, his sins were the real issues.

I entered his hospital room and found myself surprised and disarmed. He looked so fragile and vulnerable. Not the man I grew up watching. The moment had come. I felt like God was right next to me whispering "it's time to rest your case and forgive." The moment. That set forth a process of learning how to forgive and accept forgiveness. My dad passed away 5 years later.

You should also know that I spent time setting goals around my relationship with my dad in the preceding years. Multiple years of resolving and planning. You know the drill, "I will have breakfast once-a-month, I will go to a baseball game, I will invite him to, the list goes on. I never did it because there was never a moment.

I have learned some valuable lessons in the last few years. Two of the most important ones are the need for the moment and that I don't have to wait for the moment to come to me. The latter implies that you can humble yourself and look at your life soberly and make the move. Regardless, without out the moment goals rarely stick.

You want them to stick.

The Value Proposition

3 January 2013January 3, 2013Eric

Welcome to 2013! In today's post I'm focusing on the value proposition. Not in relation to your investments or sales process, but your epic life. Don't turn away. Reading this may be the most important thing you do all year. Not because I'm such a great thinker or writer, but because your life is worth more than you can imagine. Sounds cliche doesn't it. Your awkward smile and feeling of embarrassment that you haven't paid enough attention to life's rhythm is hanging on your sleeve.

I watch people intently-live and written. I gauge their behavior and their words. I want to see if they really are as "whole" as they portray themselves to be. My review isn't to judge or make light, but to see if I've been given the opportunity to focus on helping them move to a place of Epic (their movie, their symphony, their happiness) Living. In many ways my blood runs with a sense of how their story unfolds.

We are in great danger.

I told a friend and fellow-pilgrim some time ago, that I've seen this recurring vision of a large building with an office full of people. On any given day I see a band of mercenaries planting bombs and traps for the people going in and out everyday. I have some experience with bombs and traps. I used to set them. How's that for irony? If you've been reading this blog for awhile, you know my story. In the end, my calling and mission is to save as many as possible. And, yes, I've been called and construed as one of the "crazy ones."

At this point in your story, I would like you to consider how the value proposition can create great odds for success. It will not be easy and it will create a crossroads, just a friendly warning.

Here's how to do it:

Turn off the world (the marketing, the people, the employers, etc.) before you begin this process. By the way, the world will not like this. If you ignore my warning here, you'll go into a form of mental slavery. Someone or something else will sieze control.
I'm giving you 5 diamonds worth millions, the rarest of the rare. Each one represents what you value most in life. Things like God, family, a cause, friends, career, etc. Choose wisely here.
Now, the condition of me giving you the diamonds is you must take care of and keep the value of the diamonds growing at an annual 10% clip each year. Every day in the given year will be the measuring stick. The take-away is, you must take care of your diamonds every day.
If you fail in number 3, you lose your life.
As an added bonus, I will stay with you during the year to help you with perspective and give feedback. I will only do this when you ask. It's your life after-all.

Intersted in this value proposition? You should be, you're already invested.

Meeting Marion in Central Park West

29 December 2012December 29, 2012Eric

Celebrating the best of the Epic Living Blog, 2012. Enjoy!

This is a photo taken of me and Marion Margolis. We met on my visit to NYC last weekend. Marion was very kind to my wife and I on our visit. A seemingly accidental meeting as we were taking in the beauty of Central Park. The photo above was shot in Central Park West.

Marion is an author (among many things). She is a writer of 3 children's books. The one that intrigued me most was titled New Digs for Beau, about her beloved Dalmatian. She spoke fondly, with emphasis, about the her relationship with this special dog named Beau. I don't know if she knew how I was reveling in our conversation. It was so strange and familiar all together. This was important as I am making my way through a new chapter in life, and as I craft a second book.

I asked her about her inspirations and what her process for writing was like. Marion likes silence, I like music when writing. Two authors connecting on the process of writing. It's always intriguing to learn what sparks creativity in artists. She truly inspired me.

Ever been to a place out of a dream that lived out like that dream? That's what my meeting Marion was like. It was like I was invited to participate in something beyond what I could have imagined. All of this and more, in a place called Central Park West.

An Early Morning in June

28 December 2012December 28, 2012Eric

Celebrating the best of the Epic Living Blog, 2012. Enjoy!

I was 14 in June, 1980. Life was a series of things to get over and get past in those days for me. My grandmother had passed the summer before, my parents had been threatening each other with divorce and my brother was on a path that would surely lead to deep destruction.

It was an early morning in June. Like any morning would be for those who slept the night before.

Things can change.

I awoke on that June morning (don't remember the date) to find our house full of people. I didn't know at the time that those people were police detectives and forensic scientists. It was surreal as I walked down the hall to find my mom and dad. I found my mom sitting in a chair in the living room with eyes that had certainly been crying. I asked in a slow, muted tone, about all the people and what was going on. She proceeded to tell me that my brother was suspected of murdering his girlfriend.

What?

Everything was different now and the months and years ahead would be shaped by something irreversible and tragic. After the police, and even TV news crews, had departed, I saw my dad standing at our front door, just staring motionless.

I felt alone.

In the time sense much has changed and much is still the same. For me, as I look back now, I have discovered why I feel things so deeply, why I have such an urgency about living and why I am an entrepreneur (risk-taker). It has nothing to do with a resume or a career. It has everything to do with getting on with what you've been shaped and called to do. I realized early that the table do turn and even if prepration fails you, you must find a way to recover. I guess on that early morning in June, I realized that safety as advertised was an illusion.

There is no doubt that these traits have gotten me into troube, but I have always seen how God took the good and the bad and shaped them into something I can only describe as art-beautiful art. And even though I've matured and learned about appropriate risk, I also know that strength comes from good things and bad. I wouldn't have it any other way.

An early moring in June is still a part of my destiny. It broke me, grew me and sets a course that my DNA is written all over. My hope is it plays to a backdrop of change.