A friend's Life Legacy: he chose love.

In the late 90s, when I first moved to Asheville, NC, from Los Angeles, I regularly attended a friend's Friday night old-time jam.  He held the jam in his studio, which was a man cave of built in his garage. It was the highlight of my week in those days.

One Friday, a group of younger guys barged in. They were all exuberant young men, who mostly played bluegrass, and they had heard about our jam and wanted to meet us. They were engaging, full of life, funny as all get out. The were generous and spent time hanging out with me, playing music and teaching me about Southern Culture, often in the form of tall tales which I had to sort out from the truer stories.

One of them was Gawain Mainwaring (pronounced G'wain Mannering). Gawain was my neighbor when I lived for a time in a sweet little neighborhood in West Asheville.

I was drawn to Gawain's love for life. I have to admit that at the time, I was on the downslope of a challenging marriage, so I was a little envious of his family life. He had a kind, beautiful wife and 3 equally beautiful young girls. I didn't know them well, but I was glad they were my neighbors, and enjoyed chatting with them when I'd swing past their home with my dogs.

In later years, I ran into Gawain occasionally since his daughters and my stepdaughter attended the same school. I had heard he had gotten cancer, but had beaten it initially. He was such a strong, strapping guy that I thought to myself, "Of course he beat it!". But then it came back with a vengeance.

I saw him at the school one day, visibly weaker, but I still made the assumption that he was stronger than cancer, and was going to kick its ass. I was stunned a few months later when I heard the news he had passed away. As I said, I didn't know him that well, but I cried all evening as the Billy Joel song "Only the Good Die Young" was an ear worm rattling in my head.

I was in the huge crowd at Gawain's memorial service last Saturday. Asheville's former mayor Leni Sitnik read Gawain's Legacy Letter, which he had written the previous Summer. In it, spoke of love and connection. Then he made the quizzical statement that he had beaten cancer. It didn't make sense until Leni read on.

Gawain wrote, "I won the battle and war with cancer and secretly know that I used cancer to get closer to love. I could have gone my whole life avoiding the inevitable end, but knowing you will die sooner than later is a gift that gives you a chance to choose the love sooner, knowing this love now has brought me the peace that I want and need to share with all of you."

I can't tell you how much Gawain's embrace of love and connection - especially during his time of adversity - has impacted me.

I have been separated from my wife for 5 months. I moved to a cabin outside Asheville, where I have been reclusive, drinking a few more beers than usual and not eating my vegetables. I embraced distraction. I've been dealing with my recent loss in dribs and drabs, but haven't fully plunged in.

But something has shifted. Though I accept my need for the time I have taken grieve and drown my sorrows a bit, I hear Gawain's words like a clarion call. It is time for me to make a shift.

There's no beer in the house right now. I woke up this morning clear-headed and ate a healthy breakfast. I feel energy and optimism for the next steps I want to take.

Once in awhile, I've been given the gift of an acquaintance later telling me how profoundly something I had said or done had impacted their life. I wish Gawain was still here so I could tell him that he has done the same for me.

If I can live the rest of my life with half the passion and love that Gawain expressed, I will know that I am doing better than fine.

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Here is Gawain Mainwaring's complete Life Legacy Letter. I wish you could have known him, too:

July 6, 2015
Dearest Friends and Family,

I am sorry I couldn’t be with you all today. I had a prior engagement I just couldn’t seem to break away from.

It’s hard to know just what the best words are to share with you all. I pray you will know that I am at peace with what has come to pass. I am at peace this very moment though part of me remains here with all of you in the memories and times we have shared. When I strip everything away, I believe all I can really leave behind is captured in the word love. L-O-V-E - those simple four letters capture all of me that I want to remain, all that can remain. 

We throw the word love around with great abandon, using it to describe an individual preference for things we feel set us apart or distinguish us from others, but the love I speak of here is one older than the universe. It was present when all the stars were nothing more than a creative urge, waiting to be called forth into time and space. This love connects us all and I can only hope that today you will remember me as someone who loves you deeply from this place of love. My love for you all will remain as long as the stars in the sky shine. Love has drawn me to it, like a magnetic tractor beam, un-ending, absolute in its purpose. It is from this place of love that I seek to be with you now. 

In every breath, there is the potential to be with love, completely surrounded and enveloped with a joy that transcends even death. In every moment, we can choose to have love rule our lives. It’s just below the surface, just below the waves and ripples we allow to blow across the mind’s eye. Two deep breaths in stillness and you are there with me, soaking in the stillness and power that surrounds everything and binds everything. 

I believe we run away from move for much of our lives. We are masters of distraction, inventing endless ways to create new imaginative ripples that interfere with that love connection. Love is always there and avoiding being one with it is an impossibility. Love will have you in the end, but it is human nature to ignore what we have in favor of what we believe we want or need. We think it’s up to us to create something better than love so we strive to leave things behind to be remembered by. It is because love is so powerful that we fight against its pull. 

“And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make,” rings as true today as when the Beatles wrote it many years ago. So please remember me as a person who was blessed in love. Just look around you - all of you loved me in some way, in your own way, and that love is my legacy. You can’t see it, or hold it, but you can feel it always, just below the surface, holding everything together, holding all of us in its flow. 

During this journey towards my final resting place, I have often wished I could stop because I know my passing has hurt those I love deeply, but this pain you feel from my passing will fall away eventually. I won the battle and war with cancer and secretly know that I used cancer to get closer to love. I could have gone my whole life avoiding the inevitable end, but knowing you will die sooner than later is a gift that gives you a chance to choose the love sooner, knowing this love now has brought me the peace that I want and need to share with all of you. 

So for today, raise a glass to me, and bid me farewell, friend, as you see me float by on the smooth water that carries us all. Raise a glass knowing that we are all together on this great journey. We are all going to the same river, absolute in its path, clear in its purpose, and steady in its oneness. I will be there waiting for you always, and if you sit still enough beside the calm waters, you can find me no, at Peace, complete, and in-Love with you always. 

– Gawain

Thoughts on Robin Williams and Depression

I, like millions of others, was unprepared for how profoundly Robin Williams' suicide affected me. Let's face it - I didn't know the man, nor did most of us. Yet we yearn to understand why he did it. He was talented, he was wealthy, he was famous, he was a fountain of mirth - and yet he couldn't bear to stay on the planet another day.

For myself, Williams' death reminds me of the delicate knife's edge I walk when dealing with my own anxiety and depression.

I have experienced times when I felt like I couldn't bear another day of intense internal suffering. Most often, I survived those days by remembering things I had to look forward to. I found relief by anticipating a holiday or trip, or a planned gathering of friends.

On occasions when I could think of little or nothing to prevision, I focused on simpler future moments: like the golden sunlight coming in early November, or the next cool night I will relax by the firepit and watch the sparks waft toward the stars.

When even those simple anticipations eluded me, I tried to remember that life still holds a few delights and surprises I couldn't yet foresee. On the few dire occasions when I could think of nothing else, I told myself that there were jokes I hadn't yet heard that would coax future guffaws from my belly.

So when melancholy gets the best of me and I'd like nothing better than to avoid another day of pain, I tell myself this: If I were to force my premature exit from this planet, I'd miss something good I have yet to experience - maybe something important I was meant to experience?

I'm grateful that even in my moments of deepest anguish, I have had the capacity to remind myself that of the many good reasons I have to stick around. It's frightening to consider what might happen if I were so consumed by darkness that I could no longer imagine those future highlights worth living for.

I have a Tarot deck that depicts The Devil card not as a goat-headed beelzebub, but as a man and woman trapped in a dark hallway, held back by chains and material possessions. At the far end of the hallway, a portal opens to a bucolic landscape, but the man and woman can't reach it. That's what I think Hell is: the feeling of being so disconnected from the splendors of life that we completely lose sight of them.

Maybe we were so fond of Robin Williams because he gifted us with so many of the belly laughs that helped us survive our own trying times? So now, we can't help but ask ourselves, "How could someone whose powerful genius brightened so many lives be incapable of brightening his own life when he needed to? How did someone like Williams end up so far down that dark hallway that he no longer believed there was light at the other end?

Again, none of us really knew Williams, so we'll never know the answer.

Rather than try to make sense of Williams' death, I think we can best honor Williams' memory by asking ourselves a more pertinent question: "How can we avoid ending up in that same terrible place, where darkness becomes so pervasive that we no longer believe in the existence of light?"

Getting Clear About What I Want and Need

When my bank balance is low, I often catch myself repeating the same statement over and over: "I need more work!"

I caught myself whispering that mantra to myself recently: "I need more work, I need more work, I need more work!" I was whipping myself into an anxious frenzy.

But as I mentioned, I caught myself. I stopped and said, "Wait a minute! Is work the thing I really want to request?"

I took a few deep breaths and then considered what work means to me. I usually associate the word work with effort, toil, struggle and exertion. Thinking of work in those terms (whether having or lacking it), usually makes my muscles tense up. Is that what I want?

Do I want to toil and struggle? No! Do I want to be a vibrant, productive human being? Yes!!

So if that's what I really want, then why do I keep specifically requesting more work? I thought about it for a moment, and realized that the thing I was really asking for was income – and that I was making a very limited request by assuming that income can only be gained through hard work.

So next, I decided to rethink my "If you're not sweatin', you're not getting'" paradigm.

I considered some of my friends, who approach their careers with passion, but whose postures communicate ease and relaxation most of the time. Sometimes they, too, spend long days devoted to their careers, but they never appear to be exhausted. They enjoy their work so much that the hours fly by without their noticing. They often finish those long days exhilarated and eager to tackle tomorrow's to-do list.

With all this in mind, I carefully recrafted my mantra. I looked at my bank balance again and declared:

"I need more income. And I want the acquisition of that income to feel fun and exciting...maybe even effortless!"

After all, when I am doing what I do best, harnessing my natural creative talents and abilities, work does seem nearly effortless. When I'm in "the creative zone", the hours do fly by. When I'm doing my best, I am confident that the work I perform is unique and valuable – and well-deserving of a commensurate income.

The first declaration addressed my short-term issue of needing more income, but I also wanted a declaration that would serve me in the long-term. So I created another declaration to fit that scope:

"I want my career to evolve so my work is creative, passionate, playful and invigorating, and maximizes the best use of my talents and abilities!"

I can feel the tension in my shoulders melting away when I say these words. I can feel a spark of excitement welling up inside me. This new statement feels so much more expansive and full of potential than the original "I need more work" statement!

Yes, now I must to do the work to determine how my personal evolution will proceed. But it doesn't feel like I'm about to dig an 10 foot hole with a garden shovel. It feels like I'm packing my suitcase for an exciting expedition, which makes taking the next step seem...well, fun and effortless!

Maybe Our Only Problem Is the Way We Approach Problems?

A problem is simply a situation or state that doesn't fit someone's desires or needs, and requires a solution to alter that situation or state to create a better fit.

When you consider the word "problem", does it have a positive or negative connotation? Your answer could make the difference between living a fulfilling or a frustrating life.

You may have heard the tale of the guy who went to a friend for help, complaining about the daunting number the problems he faced. His friend simply smiled and told him, "I'll take you to a place where nobody has a single problem!"

The complainer went eagerly with his friend to find the location of this magical place, only to have his friend lead him to a graveyard. "Here are all the people who don't have any problems!" the friend declared.

You could make the argument that life is a series of problems, and that the presence of problems is misery, while the absence of problems is joy. Sounds like a harrowing roller coaster ride! But what if we could smooth out that roller coaster simply by changing our attitude about problems?

When confronted with a problem, do you see it as a setback or frustration? Or do you see it as an interesting challenge that may lead to a fulfilling journey?

Problems are often unexpected or unanticipated. We see them as bumps in the road, setbacks in our schedules, pains in our necks. But what if we could remember that the process of tackling a problem often leads us to new insights or discoveries?

Instead of cursing under our breath when a problem arises, what if we could instead say, "Look at that hurdle someone stuck smack dab in my path. What a welcome surprise! I wonder where it will take me? I wonder what it will teach me?"

What if we embraced the idea that problems are the very things that make life interesting - maybe even exciting?

Perhaps we simply need to change the negative charge often associated with the word "problem". What if every time we see the word "problem", we instead replaced it with a word like "project" or "puzzle"?

When faced with a particularly difficult problem, would it help to visualize it as a fun toy like a Rubik's Cube and approach it with a playful attitude, setting a reasonable pace and making one twist at a time until we solved it? I think it's worth a try.

I started playing the violin in my early 30s, which is a relatively ancient age to begin the process of learning a challenging musical instrument. For at least the first year, it didn't sound pretty. One day while I was squeaking out a tune, I stopped out of frustration and dropped the fiddle in my lap. I sat and glared at it for a moment. Oddly, it felt like the instrument was smiling back at me – a mischievous smile, at that. That's when I knew.

I said to the fiddle, "You're going to take me on a journey, aren't you?"

"You bet!" the fiddle winked.

That was a couple dozen years ago. I have since moved from Los Angeles to Asheville, NC to be closer to the source of Appalachian mountain fiddling. In the process, I have transformed from a city boy in a swank bachelor pad to a chicken farmer living in a rustic mountain home with my wife and daughter. I've gone from angry and agitated to relaxed and happy. It has been one heck of a journey – a journey that would never have begun if I hadn't been confronted with the problem: "How in the world am I ever going to figure out how to make this fiddle sound decent?"

By the way, I already know what my next problem will be: to remember to heed my own advice next time I'm confronted with a problem!

Finding Balance Between The Digital and Natural Worlds

Lately, I've caught myself feeling an urgency to keep up with the myriad of new technologies, social networks, programming languages and website innovations that continually flood the digital market-o-sphere. 

I've been enamored with the digital world for 30 years. In many ways, it has served me well. The countless hours of unbridled productivity have far outweighed the hair-rending frustration of technical glitches.

Today, however, I am acutely aware of how often digital devices pull me further away from my natural patterns and rhythms. Computer gizmos have set a pace that keep me moving faster than I want to. It's like cleaning house while listening to the William Tell Overture. Before you know it, you find yourself out of breath, trying to beat the kitchen counter scrubbing world record. Music and computers are both alluring and both can easily alter your internal tempo without your even noticing.

That increased tempo was exhilarating when I was younger and brimming with energy. Fast forward a few decades, though, and I find myself scrambling to catch up with the constant and prolific introduction of the newest technology. Granted, some of that technology has gotten less complex in the last 10 years. It's just that there's so much of it, and it changes the instant we get accustomed to the last new innovation.

In the 1990s, I read that in the span of a modern career, we have to relearn 8 times more new information and techniques than our parents did. I expect that number has expanded even further in recent years. 

The shelf life of a newly-launched website is constantly shrinking. Better interfaces emerge, and hackers find new workarounds to security safeguards. When I tell my clients they need critical upgrades less than a year after their site has launched, they don't always realize that I am being pro-active to keep pace with innovations (and one step ahead of the latest security breaches). Some think I'm trying to foist premature, unnecessary upgrades upon them. I understand their doubts because I, too, often think: "It's all completely changed again? So soon??" It's hard not to be dubious when change comes at such a breakneck pace. 

It's hard to stay resilient when you're being asked to roll with relentless change. How much can we expect the human mind and body to keep up with digital paradigms that last but a fleeting moment? How long can we withstand a pace that differs so much from the organic cycles of the human body? How long should we even attempt to?

Personally, I need to strike a balance between the digital and the physical: to harvest the benefits of computing while also honoring my natural physical and emotional patterns. I want to live at a tempo that doesn't grind me down to the nub, I want to disregard the digital message that says, "Human, you're not accurate enough or quick enough. So either become superhuman or step aside." I want to reject that message in favor of a more authentic, human, organic life experience. I want digital devices to adapt to my speed, not the other way around.

I'm guessing that there are lots of people just like me, trying in vain to keep up with the digital parade, yet yearning for a more soul-nourishing lifestyle, a more relaxed pace. 

I am 55, and have a wife and 12 year old daughter. I can't work 70-80 hours a week any more, nor do I want to. But I still want to contribute to the world prolifically, authentically, humanly and honestly. I want to strike a balance of productivity and physical harmony. I want to use digital tools, not have the tools use me.

How do I find that balance? What can I do today to start making a change? 

It's the first warm Sunday of the season, so the solution today is a no-brainer: I will step away from the digital box, and go outside. Using all 5 senses when stepping away from the computer will help me better appreciate the moment.

Outside, I can see the white brightness of the March sun, and the way the bare tree branches wave in the wind, as if to beckon Spring to come closer.

I can hear the whisper of the breeze and the staccato knock of the woodpecker against Doug's maple tree.

I can smell that sort of fecund, fertile smell that the earth burps up in these in-between seasons, mixing with the faint smell of the few, vanguard quince and daffodil blooms.

I can feel the hair on my arms jostle in the wind, feel the slight sting of sunlight on my skin, feel my pores open up as my body's radiator remembers how to adapt to warm air.

I can touch the ground, still moist, still holding in Winter's cold beneath its layer of bedraggled grass, feel the tufts of grape hyacinth leaves poking through the firm layer of loam. 

Today's solution was easy. How to I get closer to that balance tomorrow? (Luckily, I've changed my mind about blogging. I used to think that I could only blog if I had the answers. I now believe that to run a successful blog, I simply need to keep asking the right questions. And finding out where those questions lead me.)

So what do you think? What is your relationship with nature? With the digital world? Is it in balance? If so, how do you keep it that way. If it's not in balance, what do you do to try and get back to a manageable equilibrium?

Christmas Rowdiness and Quality of Life - Are They Connected?

Is Christmas revelry getting rowdier? And if so, is the trend toward a more raucous Christmas something new, or merely a resurgence of more ancient rituals, harking back to past times when opportunity and prosperity were at an ebb? 

Case in point: the annual SantaCon festivities, where gaggles of merry makers get their Kringle on for a massive, day-long bar hop.

Many SantaCon participants probably consider their event to be quite novel. After all, 2013 marked SantaCon's 20th year, which makes the event a baby in comparison to millenia-old Yuletide practices.


The seeds of SantaCon occurred as early as the mid 1970s, but SantaCon as we know it officially began in San Francisco in 1994, described by its original organizers as "a nonsensical Santa Claus convention that happens once a year for absolutely no reason".


Others have a less charitable opinion of the event. The New York Times describes SantaCon as, "...a daylong pub crawl that begins with good cheer and, for many, inevitably ends in a blurry, booze-soaked haze".

Opposition to SantaCon seems to be growing, despite the fact that in recent years, SantaCon organizers have added a charitable component (contributing to Toys for Tots), in order to mitigate the bad PR created by the inappropriate behavior that naturally flows from public inebriation. In an attempt to tone down the event, SantaCon organizers have now begun to designate "helper elves" to detect and defuse inappropriate behavior before it gets out of hand.

Despite its unsavory aspects, I probably would have participated in SantaCon had it existed when I was a younger man, filled with spirit and irreverence. So why wasn't there a SantaCon-like event in the 70s-80s? And what has changed to incite gregarious events like SantaCon now?

The fact is, SantaCon would have been the perfect fit for the Christmas celebrations of past centuries, which more closely resembled Halloween than Christmas. 

A more mischievous Christmas makes sense when you consider the social aspects of early agrarian society. December was a time when all the crops had been harvested, and peasant farmers could enjoy a well-deserved respite from long days of toil. The year's batch of ale had finally fermented, and it was the perfect time to slaughter surplus livestock, since grain would soon become scarce, and the cold weather would preserve the meat through Spring. It only seems natural that the laboring class confronted this frightening season of darkness and bitter cold by engaging in excessive drinking, feasting and merriment. People adopted an attitude of "In your face, Winter!", responding to the tumultuous weather with their own brand of tumult.

Gangs of aggressive carolers roamed the streets, banging on doors, demanding that the occupants share their finest food and ale with the rambunctious merrymakers. It was a season of role reversal, a time to replace darkness with light, a time when the servants temporarily became the masters. A local ne'er-do-well was often ordained as the "Lord of Misrule". Rules of sexual conduct were temporarily suspended, and as a result, birth rates soared every September.


Those in power often tolerated the chaos, seeing it as a time when the poor and oppressed could blow off some steam (which would hopefully lead to more compliant behavior the rest of the year). But in the mid-1600s, straight-laced religious leaders attempted to outlaw these more belligerent expressions of Christmas.

The Puritanical-types of the 17th century succeeded for a decade or two, but in the end, hooliganism prevailed. By 1712, fundamentalist preacher Cotton Mather disapprovingly stated, "The Feast of Christ's Nativity is spent in Reveling, Dicing, Carding, Masking, and in all Licentious Liberty . . . by Mad Mirth, by long Eating, by hard Drinking, by lewd Gaming, by rude Reveling." Sounds like a party to me!



Over the next century, however, new societal changes succeeded where the Puritans had failed.

As historian Stephen Nissenbaum cites in his 1997 book, The Battle for Christmas: "With industrialization in the early 1800s, people were moving to cities, where there was more economic opportunity and material goods were more widely available." In other words, an increase in quality of life tamed savage Christmas customs.

From the 1800s through to the new millennium, food was abundant at every season, and an increase in disposable income brought comfort and joy via consumeristic pursuits. The gap between the rich and poor narrowed, and most people's prosperity steadily improved. Now crafted more by merchants and marketeers than by organic social inclination, the manner in which we celebrate Christmas came to resemble the proverbial long Winter's nap.

That was the Christmas I knew as a child: a slumbering, suburban holiday filled with presents, food, relatively moderate amounts of drink for the adults and unmoderated amounts of sugary treats for the children. Christmas was primarily a domestic event, though we often went caroling door to door, expecting nothing more than to bring the joy of music to the homes we visited. Christmas was structured and lawful.

During these two centuries of relative stability and prosperity, silent nights reigned, and rowdier Christmas customs seemed to have been stifled for good. But as most people can personally attest, that stability and prosperity has steadily crumbled during the last 3 decades. It begs the question: are new customs like the gregarious SantaCon natural by-products of a loss of prosperity?

The future will prove if there is connection between quality of life and the amount of chaos that accompanies Christmas. If prosperity continues to contract, and the gap between haves and have-nots continues to widen, I expect these trends will naturally inspire more mischievous expressions of Christmas. If the rich and powerful tolerate more boisterous popular celebrations, as they did centuries ago, I expect the level of mischief will remain manageable. Otherwise, Christmas might devolve into a sort of Halloween on steroids and the current turmoil of SantaCon might in retrospect seem like a fond memory.

You Are A Gold Mine!

When you hear the word "pretentious", the mind usually pictures people who are haughty and condescending, who think of themselves as being above everyone else.

However, the word "pretense" has a much broader meaning. Exhibiting pretense means attempting pass yourself off as something other than your true self.

So a pretentious person can be a someone who "puts on airs", behaving as if they were superior to others. But the opposite can be true, too - and probably far more commonplace. How many of us think we're more inferior than we really are?

How often do you belittle yourself and underestimate your own value? It's a bad habit I fall into more often than I'd care to admit, thinking I'm made more of rusty scrap metal than of gold.

Lately, I've been thinking about pretense from both of these sides. When I'm busy with work, I sometimes catch myself swelling with self-importance, thinking that I don't have time for other important activities, like keeping in touch with friends or spending time with my wife and daughter.

When work is slow, I sometimes forget about all talents and abilities I have, thinking that they must have withered away since nobody is seeking them out. This is the kind of pretense I've been struggling with lately.

I've been trying to find ways to remind myself of my talents and abilities - in other words, my value. I came up with the idea of telling myself, "You are a gold mine!" I like imagining all these gold nuggets of creativity buried within myself, just waiting to be revealed.

I then realized that reminding myself of my inner value isn't enough. I also need to roll up my sleeves and get to work to unearth that value and express it. So I figured that the natural follow-up to the proclamation "You are a gold mine!" is the statement "Start digging!"

I started by creating a graphic (it's what I do!), that I could put on the front of my computer to remind myself about my value - and the work required to make that value shine.

I then realized that other people might resonate with this message and want to display it somewhere so they can be reminded, too. So I created magnets, stickers, cards and other products using this design. Check out my page on Cafe Press if you are interested. Enjoy!

You are a precious, valuable person. Now get to work showing it!

Return to Bliss (formerly The Experiment) Days 2-5

It's day six of the return of The Experiment, and I'm just now getting around to my second blog post about it. I'm glad to say it's because my workload has increased dramatically since we started The Experiment last Fall, though it's been challenging to keep up with the tasks this week.

First off, at breakfast, Rebecca and I discussed a name change for our little project. We took into account some of the suggestions that people offered (thank you all!), and arrived at "Return To Bliss", which Rebecca agreed is her objective. I like that it can simply be abbreviated as R2B, (even though some might confuse the acronym with a Star Wars android).

Back to the week's tasks:

Day Two - Only one task, and I was successful in completing it. I wrote a poem about a river. In pencil, for some reason - I guess Rebecca thought it would be a more organic way to write than pecking it out on my iPad.

 I've been asked to write a poem before, and last time, I don't think I posted it. The critic in me tells me, "Don't you dare publish that thing on your blog! It's primitive, uninspired crap, don't you know?" And maybe it is. But posting it here is, in essence, my way of firing a salvo back at that pesky critic and telling him to drink a big steaming mug of STFU!  So here's my poem - published for all to see, you pernicious little critic. Take that!

Day Three - I didn't stare into a candle on Day One, so Rebecca added the task again. And again, I didn't do it.

I may have had 3 conversations when I didn't mention myself, but I didn't consciously complete that task, so I expect it will be repeated on a future task sheet.

I did meditate - both at home, and in the dentist's chair. While having a molar ground down for a crown, I visualized dancing around the house with Beth and Rebecca because I had just received my first residual check for a book I had written. The amount on the check was $4,300,000. I pictured living in my dream house, traveling, sending Rebecca to the university of her choice. And the best part of the fantasy was that it was only the first check of many to come. The dentist and her assistant both commented on what a great patient I was - one of the most relaxed they'd had in weeks! Visions of sugar plums will do that.

Day Four - Damn, there's that candle again. I really didn't want to take 15 minutes and stare at a candle flame. I guess I'm digging in my heels on this one. I wonder why?

I stayed off Facebook all day. It wasn't that hard. What with all the insidious new filtering schemes, Facebook is not as alluring as it once was.

There was only one occasion when Rebecca interrupted me while I was working, and I complied with the task. Interruptions are a tough one for me. I work in a main area of the house, and there are constant interruptions. This task reminds me I really have to get cracking on renovating our outbuilding so I can have an office space.

Day Five - If you look, Rebecca's candle drawings became more persistent each day I failed to complete this task. Finally, on Day Five, I did it - with a real candle, not the iPad. And you know what? 15 minutes went by much more quickly than I thought it would. While I stared at the flame, I visualized handling a tricky client with compassion and care, and resolving our impasse that way. Not bad!

I am still awaiting my task sheet for today, Day 6. Hopefully next week, I can make more frequent blog posts about Return To Bliss! Until next time.

The Experiment: It's Back On!

Imagine my surprise when daughter Rebecca handed me a note yesterday. I expected it to say something like "I love you, Daddy!", but instead it was a resumption of The Experiment we started last Fall.

For those of you who didn't follow The Experiment, it began when I was looking for an interesting way to shake up my morose and grumpy attitude, shake off some stress and introduce a little more fun and whimsy into my life. So I asked my daughter (who is nothing but fun and whimsy), if she would assist me.

I asked her to assign me daily tasks that I would agree to complete. It started out as a week-long commitment, but once the week had ended, it felt like we were just getting warmed up. So we extended The Experiment to last an entire month.

It was a fun month, and I completed about 90% of the tasks. And it was a success: after The Experiment ended, I was more joyful and less stressed. And I've been that way ever since. And, the tasks provided more opportunities for Rebecca and I to spend time together.

Rebecca and I discussed whether we should resume The Experiment since it was so fruitful. We hadn't set a start date or hashed out the details, but when she brought me the first task, I said to myself, "OK, here we go!" This time, I'm starting out feeling pretty good overall, so it feels more like exploration and fun than a quest to eradicate a bad condition.

Here's how I fared on Day One:

I didn't stare at the candle. I meant to, but I had just gotten my first smartphone around 5pm and I spent too much of the evening gazing at its screen instead, figuring out settings and such. Sorry!

I accomplished Tasks 2 and 3...well, maybe the jury's out on Task 2. It was a hectic day and I didn't consciously take an hour off work, but I am participating in Winter Feast for the Soul again this year (40 days of meditation) - so I did take an hour off to meditate. Does that count?

By the time I thought about telling 3 different family members that I loved them, it was dinner time. I told Beth and Rebecca I loved them, and then thought about who on the West Coast I would call. Rebecca cracked a mischievous grin and suggested that I think about the task a little more creatively. I pondered for awhile, with a few subtle clues, finally realized that I could tell myself I loved me! Apparently, that was the solution Rebecca hoped I would find, and she danced a little end-zone-style dance after I figured it out.

Tomorrow, I'll post the results for Day Two's tasks.

I'm also looking for a better name for this exercise. "The Experiment" doesn't seem to fit any more. It seems like we're past the beta testing phase with this practice, and the evolution of it deserves a better moniker. Got any ideas?

The Paper Trail

Today, I organized and packed away all my 2011 paperwork: receipts, business documents, bills, contracts, etc. Everything was sorted into its own manila envelope and tucked into a banker's box for storage.

I usually dread this chore - because I still remember how much work it takes. But the problem is, I'm thinking back to 5-10 years ago! Back then, it was an 8+ hour chore, longer if I hadn't already done some mid-year sorting.

Today, it took me less than two hours!

I considered why my pile of business paper is so much smaller than it used to be. Easily 75% of the transactions and work that once required  me to generate paper to archive are done on the computer.

I pay almost all my bills on the computer. I still must write one physical check per month, and I procrastinate because I have to pull out that clunky binder, scrawl with an analog writing device, tear out the check, and then fish for an envelope and 44¢ stamp.

Overnight delivery is another relic I rarely use nowadays. Thanks to broadband internet, I can send massive computer files to printers anywhere in the country. Clients send me scans instead of physical photographs. I once used overnight services on a daily basis - now I use them around a half dozen times a year. And at the end of the year, I no longer have an inch-thick wad of receipts. Better yet, I'm no longer responsible for the consumption of countless gallons of fuel by jets and trucks.

I still have a printer, but it no longer needs to be the workhorse it once was. I save documents to PDF, and resort to print a few times a week. And when I do, I print on both sides of the paper before it goes into the recycling bin.

Is it good that my business and personal life require so much less paper? For the trees, definitely! But since I handle so many transactions sitting alone at my computer, I don't get out as often because I don't need to. The paperless world is a lot lonelier.

I've been thinking about how I miss the daily newspaper. In earlier decades, I loved hearing the early-morning thunk of the paper arriving at my doorstep - it was my alarm clock many mornings. And I miss the practice of receiving doses of information at a few daily intervals: in the morning with the arrival of the newspaper - and later in the evening, with the evening news broadcast. Somehow, it created more opportunity to discuss the day's news with others.

But the newspaper had its downside, too: I recalled how some people used the unfurled newspaper as a barricade in order to avoid contact. But I guess that barricade hasn't gone away- today, it exists in the form of bowed heads transfixed as if in prayer by the glow of smart phones and electronic tablets.

And though we spend more time in isolation thanks to the electronic world, we have less privacy. More companies have access to the minute details of our financial transactions than ever before. At best, we're giving them free marketing information. At worst, some of the information gathered could be used against us someday.

I suppose the transition from paper to electronics is a mixed bag. I delight in knowing that we're sacrificing less trees to the paper mill. But I miss the opportunities for human contact that accompanied the paper-based world. Maybe the solution is to call some folks and schedule a group hike on a path that winds through all those wonderful trees?

Stocking Up For The Holidays

It's two days after Christmas. I've eaten more in 3 days' time than I usually do in a week. The fridge is still bursting with food, and I ponder all this overconsumption wondering, "What was I thinking?"

What is it about the mania leading up to Christmas that is so attractive to me?

I have to admit that I love it all: stocking up for a big feast, buying and wrapping the last presents, prepping firewood, festooning the house with decorations. And especially wandering amongst gaggles of people sharing the same pursuits.

This year, it all led up to a great Christmas Eve with family and friends around the bonfire, eating eggplant casserole and homemade caramels, performing songs by the firelight, laughing and joking. It was perfect!

However, this magical evening could have been accomplished with half the prep. I overstocked, to be honest. The cooler in my shed is still swimming with high-gravity beer. I still can't see the back of the refrigerator.

I wonder if I'm holding onto some centuries-old past-life memory - from a time when preparing for harsh winters was serious business? A time when adequate harvests and and a cellar full of root vegetables and preserved meat were necessary for survival? 

There is something I love about seeing cords and cords of firewood neatly stacked, a larder full of food, a refrigerator bursting at the seams. These elements served people well in past centuries, but they aren’t necessary now. Still, I cling to the practice of stocking up, prepping for a long stretch of time when I can’t replenish my supplies. 

Why do I do it, even though I know the stores barely close for holidays?

Yes, the marketeers still inundate us with holiday messages reminding us to buy the feast, stuff those stockings, to make triply sure we have everything we need – and then some. Because if we forget one critical item, Christmas won't be as perfect as it could be. I'm too smart to fall for that ploy, aren't I? Yet somehow, these advertising tricks tickle my primordial urges to stock up so effectively that I abandon reason and go on a spree almost every year.

I need to remember that “enough” is a much smaller quantity than it used to be. Hopefully in this case, awareness is the first step toward change. 

I think I'll take a few photos of all the extra provisions I still have laying around the house today, so I'll prepare a little less next time. And hey, around mid-December next year, would someone please remind me of this post?

What is Enough?

I'm going to take a break today from The Experiment and talk about a great new website I discovered. It's called Occupy The Board Room, and it allows people to send "Pen Pal" letters to some of the 1% richest people in our nation.

I hope you'll check out the site, and write your own heartfelt letter to one of these wealthy individuals.

I wrote a letter to James Johnson, a board member of Goldman Sachs. (I wonder if he might be related to Jamie Johnson (of the Johnson & Johnson family), creator of the compelling documentary "The One Percent", which aired on HBO in 2006?)

Here's the letter I sent him. I hope he writes back!

Mr. Johnson: 

My name is David Lynch. I am a solo-preneur with my own graphic design business.
Up until a few years ago, I didn't mind working 60, 70, 80 hours a week, because I was building something for myself. 

In my mid 40s, I was able to buy my first home. I started building a SEP account for my retirement. I was close to meeting my financial goals. 

Then, the housing market tanked, and 75% of my diverse clientele either went bankrupt or cut back dramatically, leaving me with 1/4 of the workload I once had. 

I decided to act in the most financially responsible way I could. I agreed to a short sale of my home, but my bank wouldn't forgive the deficiency, so I went bankrupt to protect myself from that debt. Though I have simplified my life to the bare essentials, I still struggle to find enough work to meet basic expenses. 

I'm not complaining - I'm simply laying out the state of my life and how it's changed in the last few years. 

I'm learning to find satisfaction in simple things, like a warm, sunny day when I can go outside and listen to the birds, or a tight embrace from my daughter. I'm learning not to focus so much on the material things I may or may not have, but rather to find contentment in the relationships I have, and be satisfied that I  have access to enough food, clothing and shelter to live simply, in relative comfort. 

On occasion, I think about someone of your stature and wonder if you ever feel that sense of satisfaction? 

Is there ever a moment when you lean back in your executive chair, or in your garden chair and say to yourself, "Ahh! I've finally got enough. I am thoroughly satisfied with all I have!"? 

Or once an acquisition is completed, do you experience an anticlimactic sensation that leaves you hungry for the next merger, the next financial triumph? 

John Muir once said of billionaire railroad magnate E.R. Harriman, "I have all the money I want, and he hasn't." 

Do you think you'll ever reach a point when you have all the money you want - a time you can relax and enjoy the fruit of your labors? 

If not, and you continue on the quest for more riches, what goal do you hope to attain, besides increasing your net worth? How will you know when you reach that goal? 

You might well say to me, "Wait a minute, Mr. Lynch, do you have all the money you want?" 

And I would have to truthfully answer, "No." 

I want to be able to send my daughter to college, to provide decent health care for my family, to build a nest egg that affords a modest retirement. I do not currently have sufficient funds to accomplish these things. Those are my goals, and once I reach them, I will be able to say, "I've got enough. 

I wonder: if a few of the most wealthy people in our country were capable of saying "I've got enough", might there be enough for Americans like myself to meet our modest financial goals? 

And if that doesn't happen, aren't you at all concerned about the vast number of Americans who are beginning to stand up and say "I've had enough!" and have begun to work collectively to change the unfair distribution of wealth as it currently stands? 

I hope that you can see outside your personal realm and consider that the question "What is enough?" applies not only to your own personal estate and family, but also to the needs of the entire nation. 

We are all in this together. What you do affects the rest of us, and what we do also has the potential to affect you. 

I hope you consider helping create a nation where we all have enough. The rest of us are on that path. Our current call to action is "We are the 99%." However, I look forward to the day we can say, "We are the 100%." 

Enough said.

The Experiment Continues!

To my delight, yesterday Rebecca handed me a new task sheet - one she wants me to accomplish this work week (Monday - Friday).

If you're not familiar with The Experiment, please visit earlier posts on this blog.

My week's tasks are:

1) Start a new Vision Board. I had one at my old house in 2007, but Rebecca thinks it is in need of an update - and I think she's right. I am to work on this a little each day. I was delighted to receive this task, because I have been wanting to update the Vision Board (Dream Board), for quite some time. This task gives me permission to put some energy into it!

It's nice to look back on the old Vision Board and see some of the things on it that are now reality. The biggest one is of course "Passion - A Partner - The Perfect Fit". I created this Vision Board right after my separation - and just before I met Beth. It's amazing to think back on how this wish arrived via expedited delivery! Our relationship has been growing ever since, and we plan to get married soon. If I had to choose to have only one element on the Vision Board come true, it would be this one.

Lucky for me, that isn't the only item on the Vision Board that is becoming reality. There are other elements that I've achieved - and some goals that I am on the pathway toward accomplishing.

A few years ago, we did travel to a surprise destination - Alaska. And since 2007, I've also traveled to California, Maryland, Ohio, Michigan, Pennsylvania, New York state, Virginia and West Virginia. Hopefully, a trip to Europe or back to the West Coast will come soon - I'd love to go back and visit more of my old friends on their own turf.

I've been on the path to spiritual growth, as well. I expect I'll be on this path the rest of my days. I have made meditation a fairly regular practice in my life. And I go to yoga class once a week - something I had never done before making this Vision Board!

I look forward to updating my Vision Board and continuing to chase my quests and muses. I'll post the new Vision Board once it's finished.

2) Visit Only 3 Media Sources (Monday only). Rebecca and I had a big discussion about this one. What she is asking me to do is release some of the weight that bad news lays on my shoulders by minimizing my exposure to all news.

I tried to explain that there are many news stories that I find positive and uplifting, like the hope and promise of the Occupy Wall Street protests. Rebecca asserted that news is news, and I should minimize my exposure to all of it. On Monday I adhered to the task, but today I allowed myself to check in at all my regular news sources.

Still, in the spirit of the task, I will continue the week minimizing my focus on what Rebecca would call "dreadful" news stories.

I'll let you know how I did with both tasks at the end of the week!

My Life Job Description

I have been thinking a lot about the state of my career lately.

I have identified myself as a graphic designer since 1984, when I got my first job at a greeting card company. A few years later, I started my own company. For over 27 years, I have labeled myself "graphic designer" - and during most of the time, I could confidently add the word "successful" to that moniker. During a good deal of my career, I also based nearly 100% of my self identity on that career.

However, with the changes in the economy, being a graphic designer has become a part-time enterprise for me. So lately when I think of the myself as a graphic designer, the association is accompanied by stress and negative feelings. Many descriptors come to mind, mostly negative - none are currently synonymous with the word "success".

If I were to base my estimation of my life solely on career right now, it would not be an attractive endeavor; it would be about as productive as hopping on a butt-kicking machine for a protracted round of gluteal smacks. I include the diagram above to remind myself how ridiculous that would be. And I need to be reminded frequently, because I engage in such mental self-spankings more often than I care to admit.

I've thought of a way to break this habit. The solution sounds simple enough: throw out the equation that states "career = life". However, after years of embracing this formula, I realize it's going to take some practice before I can abandon it completely.

One of the techniques I am using to break my acceptance of this faulty equation create a "life job description". Step one is to realize that my career is merely a fraction of my overall life job description.

This weekend, I declared that part of my life job description is "to be a good father".

I worked diligently at that job, especially this weekend. Beth was out of town, so I devoted most of the weekend to being with Rebecca - and not just being with her geographically. I paid close attention to her, dialogued with her, shared experiences with her. I made sure that I was as "present" as I could be.

We went to the farmer's market, I took her to her tennis lesson, then to the Fall Festival at Hickory Nut Gap Farm, then for ice cream. Once we returned home, I cooked dinner, and followed it up a backyard fire (complete with marshmallow roasting). Finally, we finished watching a kid's movie we had started. Sunday morning, we went to the local tennis courts and practiced together. I needed to spend much of the rest of the day painting the remainder of the exterior of my work shed, and I made sure to include Rebecca. She was a great help, wedging into a tight area and painting the portion I could not reach.

The best aspect of the weekend was that we didn't argue at all. Rebecca said that we may have had one minor disagreement, but she can't even remember what it was about.

By making "being a good father" part of my life job description, I was able to regard the weekend as a rousing success.

The next step is to further expand the list that constitutes my life job description. Doing so will help me feel more well-rounded, as well as minimize the negative impact of any elements that aren't going as well as I would like. I will make it a point to focus more on those list items which foster success and a sense of accomplishment.

Having many elements within my life job description allows for ebb and flow - some elements may take prominence while others may become less important. Creating a broad and flexible life job description opens the door for more opportunity. Who knows - maybe the element in my life job description that I currently categorize as my career will shift or change some day?

Becoming My Own Taskmaster (in a good way)

I really miss Rebecca's task sheets (see earlier posts about The Experiment)!

So today, I decided to make my own task sheet, using a technique I remembered from a creativity seminar. I wrote out the page using my non-dominant (left) hand - it brings out the child in me when I do it this way (though I'm sure a young child could do a better job of it. Note to self - never try to draw a mandala with your non-dominant hand. It ends up looking like a crumpled wad of paper!) It's no substitute for Rebecca's über-cool task sheets, but it's better than nothing!

The first task I gave myself was a 7-hour Facebook fast. Today, at least, it wasn't difficult to resist the nervous, twitchy desire to catch up on the endless scroll of activity there.

I completed the second task (25 minutes of meditation), albeit a little later than I would have liked. When I wait until 2pm or later, I get a little dozey midway through, and today was no exception. Fortunately, I was able to keep the nodding to a minimum with concerted, deeper breaths.

The third task was to tackle an activity on my "extra curricular" list. Yesterday, when the angst gremlin was trying to get me, I decided to make a list of to-do items for idle times. Just the action of making this list was enough to tame that gremlin yesterday.

One of the tasks on the "extra-curricular" list is to set up my Cafe Press store and start populating it with products. I had struggled with the basic store design a few weeks ago. I had arrived at a great name for the store and created the masthead design and was in the process of hashing out the HTML, only to find out someone else had already taken the name. I got discouraged and abandoned the project temporarily.

Yesterday, I had a flash of inspiration, and came up with the name "GeeGaw", which rekindled my enthusiasm. I did a search, and could not find another Cafe Press store with that name - huzzah! Today, I figured out how to implement an all-graphic masthead and got the basic shell of the store ready. This weekend, I will add products. It feels good to be past that hurdle.

As I put the store together, I couldn't help but notice the exercise in futility occurring in the neighbor's yard. A young guy was feverishly running a leaf blower - on a day when the wind was blowing 20-30 knots and the sky was filled with leaves. It's bad enough to endure the incessant whinny of a leaf blower, but to hear one on a day when the wind negates its every attempt seemed to intensify its shrill wail. In response, I came up with this seasonal bumper sticker design for those of you who feel the same way I do about leaf blowers. You can get one of these stickers at my online store, Gee-Gaw.

Maybe after 30 days, I'll adopt creating tasks as my own habit? Even if I do, I'll still look forward to the creation of Rebecca's task cards!

Taming The Gremlin

As I was driving Rebecca to school, I starting thinking about my day and how much (or little, as the case may be), work I had to accomplish today. The little angst-producing gremlin in my stomach started doing his usual acrobatics.

At this time of year - I used to spend a little extra money on a short trip, or a new Fall shirt, or something like that. These days, there is no extra money, and thinking about lack always excites that pesky little gremlin.

So I started thinking of ways I could stop the gremlin in his tracks and do something different. I want to recapture that peaceful, open feeling that washed over me yesterday while I sat atop the Buck Springs Tunnel on the Blue Ridge Parkway. I felt much more creative after that experience.

Rather than worry about what I don't have, I started thinking about what I do have in plentiful supply: the luxury of time. With time, I can still go on a spending spree, so long as I spend it wisely. There are so many helpful things I can do with my time - things that gremlin won't like, because they starve him. Hee hee!

I'll start with a meditation. I can't travel up the Blue Ridge Parkway every morning to capture that serene feeling I experienced yesterday, but I can sit for 25 minutes and clear my mind.

Then, I can schedule time for work and time for creative pursuits, and stick to that schedule. That way, I'll introduce a little more discipline into my daily routine, and feel a better sense of accomplishment once I check off the activities I complete.

When I think of all the tasks Rebecca assigned me over the 30 days, they were all great gremlin-tamers. If I get stuck for ideas, I have 30 blog posts to remind me!

The Experiment - Wrap Up

Yesterday was the final day of The Experiment where my 10-year-old daughter assigns me tasks I must complete.

First off, here's how yesterday's tasks went:

Meditation went fine. It's been awhile, so my "monkey mind" was chattering quite a bit, as expected. It felt great to sit with the rain and wind swirling around the house. The period at the beginning of yoga class was another opportunity to focus on my breath, so I took advantage of that, too. I marvel at how I can tune out the high-rise construction noise across the street from the yoga studio - and do so for fairly long stretches. And when I do hear the workers, I simply pretend they are elves pounding chocolate chips into giant cookies.

I had at least 5 conversations without talking about myself. I had a few at yoga class, then a few more at our polling place. (I was disgusted to learn there was only a 10% voter turnout yesterday, but that's another can of worms.) I made sure that when Rebecca returned home from school, my first conversation with her was all about her day. I am committed to continuing this practice: listen more, prattle less.

And yes, I walked the full neighborhood loop. Our polling place is on the loop, so we walked in the rain to go cast our vote, and then completed the loop afterwards. The air was wet and fairly warm, and it rained lightly during the entire walk. The part I liked was coming back home after a wet walk - that  stretch of time when you warm up and dry off, and the house feels cozier than usual.

That wraps up the last day of The Experiment. So now what?

Even though I don't have one of Rebecca's task sheets with her amazing illustrations to follow today, I still feel like I have a duty to carry on in the spirit of The Experiment. And I think I'm off to a good start:

After dropping Rebecca off at school, I decided to take a short stretch of the Blue Ridge Parkway back home, since there is already some Fall color on what is called "the commuter stretch" of the Parkway. The road changed moods at every twist as it road snaked in and out of the fog. The first rays of sun pushed through the mist, making for some amazing light. I kept planning to turn around, but the drive kept getting better.

I regretted not having my camera, but I told myself that this was a morning I needed to drink everything in with my senses, and not let a mechanical apparatus interfere with that process. (The photos below are not from today's excursion.)

By the time I got to Bent Creek, I knew I was headed all the way to Mount Pisgah. Soon, I was driving through fog-shrouded trees enveloped by rays of sunlight. Before long, I climbed above the clouds left by the clearing storm and into a clear, royal blue sky. The ridge lines were illuminated by the low sun, making the mountains look like a giant, bunched-up polarfleece blanket. When I arrived at Mt. Pisgah, I took the path I recently discovered that leads to the top of the Buck Springs tunnel.

At the top of the tunnel, I felt an inner quiet fill me. I realized that for long stretches, I could not hear a single motor - no cars, no airplanes, just water dripping off the granite escarpment, a light breeze rustling through the trees, and a few bold bird calls. I felt myself slow down internally as I took in all the sights and sounds. After about 30 minutes, I headed back on the trail, walking at a snail's pace and savoring every footstep, pausing occasionally to look at the smear of cirrus clouds in the sky overhead (another sun dog sighting!) and gazed down as the low-angled sunlight illuminated every vein on the leaves at my feet.

A few thoughts from my inner gremlin popped up, like "you should be at work", but I made deep exhalations to push them out of me. I instead told myself that this was exactly where I should be, and exactly what I should be doing in that moment: slowing down and savoring a quiet morning surrounded by nature. I don't know what, if anything, experiencing moments like this one will inspire in me later on, but I trust that this is the path I must take to rediscover inspiration. I need to remember to carve out many more such moments in my life that allow me to shed negative thoughts and immerse myself in the magic this planet has to offer.

Conclusions?

In recent posts, I've posed the question of whether or not I can detect a shift in myself as a result of The Experiment. One friend suggested that maybe the shift will come in my relationship with Rebecca - and I think he's right in that The Experiment has brought us closer together.

I asked Rebecca what she thinks should come next now that The Experiment has concluded. She mentioned that she was planning to observe me for the next five days and if she notices me slipping back into old habits, or getting grumpy and stressed out, that she may assign more tasks.

However, at Beth's suggestion, Rebecca is planning to assemble a set of tasks in the form of a deck of cards, so that I can shuffle and pick one when needed. I think this is a great idea! Perhaps a set of cards with a companion book is in order, so that other people can use this technique? Who knows?

The one thing I do know is: this doesn't feel like an ending. It feels more like a beginning.

Thanks to everyone who has been reading the blog, offering words of encouragement. Rebecca and I were both touched to learn that a few of you actually followed along working on the tasks, so we send our special thanks to you!

The Experiment - Day 30!

Wow! Is it really the final day of The Experiment? Of course, I'll make one more post after this one to let you know how today's tasks went - as well as offer a general wrap-up of the month. Still, it's hard to believe this is the last task sheet. What will I do with my days without these tasks to complete??

Yesterday's tasks went well - though I didn't tackle the first one until 5pm (create a hand-made Thank-You Card). I wanted to give a card to Rebecca to thank her for all her diligent help with The Experiment. It was fun sneaking out to the workshop and fiddling around with leaves, spray-mount and colored pencils - just like the olden, pre-computer days of graphic design. Luckily, I still have a box of pre-digital tools that I saved. Rebecca was very pleased with the card, and emphasized that I was capable of wonderful things even when a computer is not handy.

I had just settled into bed last night when I remembered that I hadn't done Task #2 - write a poem. I chose to write about trees - more specifically leaves. I felt confined having to work with the ABAB rhyming format. I dashed something off that fit the format and returned to bed. I reworked it a little this morning, but my inner critic is slashing it to pieces, with words like "trite", "hackneyed" and "cutesy", and calling me names like "Henry Bumwad Dumbfellow". What a nasty little cat-caller he is. Maybe I need to write another poem in the format of my choosing - a poem that will be so wondrous that it will silence the critics?

Here's today's tasks:

1. Meditate - you haven't done this for a long time!
2. Have 5 conversations without talking about yourself.
3. Walk the full neighborhood loop. (Of course, she would assign this on a rainy day!)

I'll let you know tomorrow how the last day's tasks went. Since it's the last day, I'd better make sure I do them all, and do them well!

The Experiment - Day 29

It's the 2nd to last day of The Experiment where my 10-year-old daughter Rebecca assigns me tasks I must complete.

Yesterday, we drove up on the Blue Ridge Parkway, stopping first at Graveyard Fields. Peak color had pretty much passed at that elevation - or it never got that vibrant up there. It was hard to tell which. Rebecca wanted to hike right away, so we humored her for a bit, but after tromping over a couple quagmires, we turned back, reminding her that we wanted to spend most of our time at a section of the Shut-In Trail. We also stopped at one of the Mt. Pisgah parking lots to show Rebecca the little trail we had discovered a few days previously that leads to the top of the Buck Springs Tunnel. From that vantage point, the view is spectacular, and motorists approaching the tunnel can't help but wave at the people above them.

We then backtracked to the overlook a little south of Mt. Pisgah where we joined the Shut-In Trail. A few hickory trees showed some yellow color, and before long, we had reached the hairpin turn in the trail that partially encircles a magical little campsite cradled in a canopy of Mountain Laurel, Rhododendron and Chestnut Oaks. I announced it as "The Fairy Camp", and mentioned that this was one of the magic spots that came to mind when Rebecca first gave me the task of finding my special place. I lingered and listened to the trees and felt the mossy mound under my feet. I received the message that this was not destined to be my special place, but that the Earth appreciated my fondness for the spot.

Rebecca at the "Fairy Camp"

When we crawled into the little campsite, Rebecca instantly became morose. It was as if she had abruptly flipped an internal mood switch. We tried to draw her out to determine what was bothering her, but were unsuccessful. We coaxed a few smiles from her, but it soon became apparent that she was determined to stay unhappy, and remained so even after we left the campsite to head further down the trail.

As Rebecca dawdled and grumbled, I was getting frustrated, as was Beth. But I remembered Task #3: "Have Fun!" I decided that I wasn't going to allow my fun and happiness be dictated by someone else's mood. So I committed myself to enjoying the trail, the leaves and the cool moody weather - no matter what. This is especially noteworthy, because every year, I hold out high hopes for vibrant Fall color. So far this year, the colors have been pretty muted, but I refused to let myself be disappointed about it, choosing instead to appreciate the rusty, mellower hues that the trees offered. I was able to maintain my good cheer throughout the rest of the day - so much so that by dinner time, Beth and Rebecca started referring to me as "Mr. Zen".

I brought home more than 5 cool artifacts: a forked cherry twig, a patch of moss and many leaves, which I put in my computer scanner to capture while they were still fresh. Rebecca found a huge golden Sassafras leaf, so I asked her to pose for a photo with her hand on the leaf. It took a little art direction on my part, but I managed to get the photo I had envisioned. Thanks for humoring me, Rebecca!

After we came home, I finished painting the backside of my work shed - only one side left to go! It felt good to spend so much time outdoors yesterday - and I may play a little hooky and go up on the Blue Ridge Parkway again today before the wet weather arrives. I'm curious to see how the Fall color is on the way towards Mount Mitchell. And whether the color is vibrant or muted, I plan to enjoy to the fullest.

Here are today's tasks:

1. Make a hand-made (no computer) Thank-You Card to someone for doing something for you or helping you out. Get creative and maybe pull out colored pencils or something. Use card stock.
2. Write another poem (with pen and paper - no computer), about either a) waterfalls; b) Fall leaves; c) tree energy. The poem must be in ABAB format.

I'll let you know tomorrow how I did.