The Caring Catalyst

Who Cares - What Matters

THE OCEAN

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I am not an Ocean
I am THE OCEAN
A Turbulent
C H U R N I N G
Slap you Down
J U M P I N G S A L T Y

KIND OF THE OCEAN
That sees
That seeks
No Shore

But an occasional Raft
That I won’t so much Wreck
But gently ROCK YOU

From One WAVE to the Next
Or the ONE
That never Breaks

I am not an Ocean
I AM THE OCEAN
Waiting for a Fisherman
to drop his nets
or His Guard
and dance on my Tides

I am not a WAVE
I am a SAND SHIFTER
A Hurricane
not to be feared or evacuated
F R O M
but relished
invited
accepted
As a
ONCE UPON THIS TIME
m o m e n t

I AM THE OCEAN
as are You
Meet me at the Perfect Storm
that sports an
everlasting
RAINBOW
with no Pot of Gold
but the entire
undiscovered
ever rich
M I N E




S O N D E R

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Are you?

Are you a people watcher?

Are you more of a STORY-TELLER
than a
S T O R Y – H E A R E R. . .

I certainly wasn’t looking for this video

THE DICTIONARY OF OBSCURE SORROWS

so I don’t know if it
FOUND ME
or I discovered it
after having my
A T T E N T I O N
averted to it
but now it’s one of my most favorite sites:

S O N D E R

was the first one I saw
but it’s far from the last
and they are now
o n g o i n g

S O N D E R:
“n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own–populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness–an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you’ll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk.”

I love watching people
at the beach
at the store
at the bank
at the casino
at the restaurant
at the postoffice
at any intersection that brings
my path
to theirs

and as it does countless times over
every single day. . .

I wonder:

WHAT’S THEIR STORY

and then I hope that I don’t so much become a part of it

as to simply
N E V E R
mess it up–
affect it negatively. . .

What’s INTOXICATING:

Awaiting
Coming to the next guaranteed
I N T E R S E C T I O N

Everyone has a story. . .
but not everyone has a
H E A R E R
of the Story that not so much desperately
needs to be told
AS HEARD

Pay Attention, Class:

SCHOOL IS ALWAYS IN SESSION
(and EVERYONE is your Professor)

Cookie Borrowers

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tea-cookies

You’ve done it before,  haven’t you?

Even as an adult,

maybe even more so as an adult,

I’ve kifed my share of cookies when no one was looking

or better, at home.

I’ve got great alibi’s too.       .       .

G    R   A   N   D   K   I   D   S

I can always say,

“I bet the kids stuffed their pockets or book bags with those cookies!”

Or, just the lame,

“Geez, I  don’t  know  what  happened  to  those  cookies.”

So.         .         .what are you?

A  Cookie  Stealer?

A  Cookie  Borrower?

A  Cookie  Sharer?

I love the story,

you probably do to,

or at least, now you will.        .        .

Ben was still a little boy who had no great alibi’s.         .         .

no kids,

no grandkids,

no brothers or sisters.        .        .

Just Ben.       .       .

But, Ben possessed something that most don’t ever have:

An Imagination!

He knew how to use it as well.       .       .

Ben smelled the cookies

baking all the way from his homeroom in school.       .       .

When he got home from school,

the smell was the most sweetest,

best smelling ever.        .        .

Heaven on Earth

is when you get home from school

and the air is more filled

with fresh baked cookies than oxygen,

A             N             D

there’s a note from mom, saying,

“I had to go run some errands I’ll be back very shortly,”

And then in real bold,

Black Permanent Marker letters,

D   O       N   O   T        E   A   T        C   O   O   K   I   E   S !

Uhhhhhhhhhhh, Really?

He’s a boy.       .       .

He’s hungry.       .       .

Cookies are begging him

if he as one single taste bud to

A            T            T            A            C            K

until thoroughly conquered.

He does.       .       .

Mom comes home

and finds the obvious.        .        .

a lack of cookies on the tray

and in the jar,

even though Ben strategically rearranged them

to look as if not one had been broached

let alone eaten.       .       .

Mom’s good.          .          .

r  e  a  l      g   o   o   d

and lays down some

G o d l y    M o t h e r l y

I     N     Q     U     I     S     I     T     I     O     N     I     N     G 

that would buckle the strongest of knees:

“Did   you   eat   any   of   the   cookies   I   told   you   NOT   to   eat?”

“N   o   p   e,”

Ben shoots back over his shoulders.     .     .

“Now, you know God was right here when you stole those cookies, right?”

“Y u p,”

Ben says, wiping the last of the cookie crumb evidence from his mouth.       .       .

“And you know he was looking at you the whole time, right?”

“Y u p,”

“And just what do you think he was trying to tell you?”

“I think he was saying, ‘There’s no one here but the two of us–TAKE TWO!'”

Classic, right?

Classic, except,

we’ve all been caught red handed,

crumbs on the lips,

milk mustachioed,

belly-filled-not-so-little-kids-anymore, huh?

I guess it’s alright to be caught red handed

every once in a while.          .          .

especially if that every once in a while

also includes getting caught red handed

b       o       r       r       o       w       e       r       s

and even more,

s        h        a        r        e        r        s

Bake me up a batch of

T          H          O          S          E

c  o  o  k  i  e  s   and   I   guarantee,

the air won’t just smell sweeter.          .          .

Life itself will suddenly become

i   r   r   e   s   i   s   t   i   b   l   e       t   a   s   t   y

with your hand

in and out of the

C   o   o   k   i   e        J   a   r!

Hey,

Want    a    Cookie–

Why  not  T W O ?

W O R D S

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Sometimes the best
W O R D S
I’ve ever said
are the ones
I’ve never spoken. . .

Sometimes the Heart Shouts
what a mouth can’t Whisper. . .

SOMETIME WORDS
AREN’T THE RIGHT WORDS TO SAY. . .

Sometimes if you just use WORDS
to communicate you’ll never quite say
the right thing. . .

Sometimes if you just use Words
no one will ever know exactly what
you’re saying. . .

S O M E T I M E S

Inspired Compassion

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When   was   the   Last   Time?

He was standing at the off ramp of the highway and a car had stopped and the driver handed him a 12″ Subway.     .     .he immediately ran across a 4 lane street, tore the Subway in half and hand it to another who was standing on the On-Ramp of the highway.       .       .

When   was   the   Last   Time?

An estranged wife lay next to her dying husband who gave her countless reasons not to ever be there with him at that very moment.       .       .

When   was   the   Last   Time?

A Toddler sharing her large pretzel with her father in a crowded food court without ever being asked to give him a bite.       .       .

When   was   the   Last   Time?

A man in a walker holding open the door to a restaurant for a young couple with a baby.       .       .

When  was   the  Last  Time?

A little boy picking and bringing dandelions to a funeral home for his grandmother’s memorial service.       .       .

When  was  the  Last  Time?

A hospice doctor who sat on the floor when he met with a patient so that the patient could look down on him as opposed to the patient looking up to him as he asked,    “How can I serve you?”.       .       .

When  was  the  Last  Time?

Seeing a squirrel on a snowy afternoon dragging a dead squirrel out of the middle of the  road as it dodged traffic.       .       .

When  was  the  Last  Time?

Does  Compassion

S         E         E         N

Inspire  Compassion

T O    B E  ?

When  was  the  last  time

you actually saw an act of Compassion?

Maybe the more pending question:

When  was  the  last  time

you  unknowingly 

provided an act of compassion

to be witnessed.     .     .     ?

Is your Compassion

more of a Verb

Is your Compassion

more of a Noun

Is your Compassion

more of a good idea

Is your Compassion

more of a nice thing

Is your Compassion

more of a thing

to be performed

or

e x p e r i e n c e d.         .          .            ?

Sometimes the greatest

C  O  M  P  A  S  S  I  O  N

there is

Is the Compassion

yet   to   be   seen

d  o  n  e

k   n   o   w   n.     .     .

When

Was

The

Last 

Time

?

Make   a    c r a c k e d 

h e a r t

beat

w  h  o  l  e

BE  COMPASSION

(where compassion hasn’t always been).

 

A COMMON THEME

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What connects us?

There will be many answers to that simple question. . .

What connects us?

There have been wars fought attempting to prove the answer. . .

What connects us?

There’s a common thread to our Tapestry’s

There’s a common note to our Symphony’s

. . .And we don’t have to
F I N D
what’s already been
D I S C O V E R E D. . .

we but have to
R E C O G N I Z E
it

and then the near impossible part. . .

LIVE LIKE
THE ONLY WAY
WE LIVE
WE SURVIVE
WE THRIVE

. . .is together
C R E S E N D O I N G
into a magnificent
PHILHARMONIC SOCIETY
that
NOTE BY NOTE
finds us incomplete without
E A C H ‘ S
O T H E R. . .

M A E S T R O

we’re not so much waiting to begin

but to play our part

add our notes

and make sure the music

that connects us

is never-ending

#cultureconnectsus

Power QUOTED

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“YOU GET THE JOB DONE, OR YOU DON’T.”

“IF THERE’S SOMETHING THAT’S YOUR PASSION, DO IT. LET EVERYTHING ELSE TAKE CARE OF ITSELF. DON’T PICK A CAREER FOR MONEY, OR SOME OTHER REASON. DO WHAT YOU LOVE, BECAUSE IT WILL NEVER FEEL LIKE WORK.”

“IT’S NOT ABOUT TALENT. IT’S ABOUT DEPENDABILITY, CONSISTENCY, BEING COACHABLE, AND UNDERSTANDING WHAT YOU NEED TO IMPROVE.”

“TALENT SETS THE FLOOR, CHARACTER SETS THE CEILING.”

“THE LESS VERSATILE YOU ARE, THE BETTER YOU HAVE TO BE AT WHAT YOU DO WELL.”

“I THINK EVERYONE IS A CASE BY CASE BASIS. WHATEVER THE CIRCUMSTANCES ARE THAT COME WITH ANY INDIVIDUAL, THEY EXIST AND YOU HAVE TO MAKE A DETERMINATION AS TO WHAT YOUR COMFORT LEVEL IS WITH THAT PERSON AND THE CHARACTERISTICS THEY BRING.”

“IF YOU SIT BACK AND SPEND TOO MUCH TIME FEELING GOOD ABOUT WHAT YOU DID IN THE PAST, YOU’RE GOING TO COME UP SHORT THE NEXT TIME.”

“TO LIVE IN THE PAST IS TO DIE IN THE PRESENT.”

Not bad quotes, huh?

Any guess wh said them?

Would it be easier if I gave you a clue?

Each quote comes from the same person who’s famous but not very popular although highly successful?

Any idea?

S U R P R I S E D ?

Does it make a difference if great quotes come from a highly successful but not an overly popular person

I F

the quotes come
NOT
from a place of
“I THINK”
but
I KNOW

. . .a place of
M A Y B E
or a Continent of
D E F I N I T E L Y. . .

R E S U L T S
t h e y say
are the only things
that matter. . .

what say you?

Before you get power quoted
answer the question:

ARE WORDS MORE POWERFUL THAN ACTIONS. . . ?

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm of Day:
Maybe the greatest words said
are the ones
L I V E D
(c o n s i s t e n t l y)

More Stupid or Less LOVING

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Are we becoming more Stupid

o r

L e s s L o v i n g

or

DO WE EVEN CARE. . .

INC Magazine’s Jessica Stillman recently asked the same question with some interesting
or not so interesting answers to follow. . .

Whatever incredibly dumb things humanity got up to in the 20th century (and there were, as you know, some doozies), we all had at least one thing to crow about: as measured by IQ tests humans were at least steadily getting smarter.

The steady uptick in average IQ scores is known as the Flynn effect, and it lasted for decades. Basically wherever scientists looked they found a rise of intelligence of about three IQ points per decade.

But recent research has worrying news: this trend appears to be reversing.

Humanity is now officially getting dumber.

It probably shouldn’t worry us if some pocket of the population saw a decline in IQ as things like education and diet affect IQ and these factors can vary from one group or time to another. But according to this new study it doesn’t appear to be some small segment of the population whose IQ is going down. It appears to be the entire nation of Norway.

When scientists from the Norway’s Ragnar Frisch Centre for Economic Research analyzed some 730,000 IQ tests given to Norwegian men before their compulsory military service from 1970 to 2009, they found that average IQ scores were actually sinking. And not just by some miniscule amount. Each generation of Norwegian men appear to be getting around seven IQ points dumber.  

And as PsyBlog points out, this isn’t even the first study to find that the Flynn Effect has reversed, though it may be the most convincing to date.

The million dollar question:
w h y ?

That’s pretty horrifying news for fans of progress, but it also begs one incredibly important question: Why? What’s causing IQ scores to start heading in the wrong direction?

You might first wonder if it’s genetic. Maybe some change in the makeup of a particular group being studied has caused the decline (crudely, you could call this the ‘dumb people have more babies’ hypothesis). But that seems to be ruled out by the new research, which shows that even within single families IQ has declined. Marginal Revolution blogger economist Tyler Cowen sums up what that means: “In other words, we have started building a more stupidity-inducing environment.”

So we know that the culprit is nurture rather than nature (or, sorry xenophobes, migration), but scientists are still baffled as to what exact aspect of modern life is driving the decline. Some have proposed that our tech obsession might be to blame, but as the decline started in the 1970s, well before everyone spent their days staring at screens, that can’t be the whole story.

Other proposed explanations are unhealthy modern diets, increasingly trashy media, or a decline in the quality of schooling or the prevalence of reading.

The issue could even be down to a technical detail of IQ tests. Scientists make a distinction between crystallized intelligence (all the stuff you’ve been taught and remember) and fluid intelligence (your ability to learn new stuff). IQ tests generally measure crystallized intelligence more, so changes in schooling that de-emphasize memorization might be driving a decline in scores. If this explanation is true, students remain as smart as ever (just way more reliant on Google).

The bottom line, however, is that the cause of the decline remains a mystery. Whatever it turns out to be, however, we should all probably start worrying about what our sedentary, screen addicted, junk food-munching lifestyles might be doing to our brains.

And what does that really say about how we go about treating each other
or even ourselves. . . ?

Is our intelligence directly related to our Caring
our Loving
our Accepting
our Forgiving
our Sharing

The Answer might well do with

The Stupidest thing we’ve ever done. . .

The Smartest thing we’re doing. . .

or the most
L O V I N G E S T
we can ever be. . .

Place your bets: what do you think is behind the recent mental decline of humanity?

Pssssssssssssssssssssssst:
It doesn’t matter if you carry around a bucket of lights
if you don’t share it
to chase
D A R K N E S S. . .
T H A T ‘ S
not only
s t u p i d. . .

It’s UN-enlightening

The Small Difference

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I am on purpose writing this some 23 hours
B E F O R E
the 2019 Super Bowl

W A Y

before there’s a
WINNER
long before there’s a
LOSER. . .

What was the key to victory:

Turnovers
Execution
Coaching
Skill
Planning
Experience

. . .or a combination of any one of the above?

The weekly Monday Blog Video Clip
is over 20 years old now
with Coach Al Pacino
giving a most impassioned pre-game speech
that had his team in such a frenzy
they didn’t use door
because they were inspired/fired up enough to
run through a wall. . .

W h a t
D O E S
T H A T
for you?

A stirring talk
A significant loss
An inspiring win. . .

L O V E.          .          .          ?

To use the analogy of Mr Pacino
of it being a game of
I N C H E S

when you apply it to the most powerful force
in and out of this World:
L O V E
. . .those very inches
allow you the magnificent power of
e n a b l i n g
A N O T H E R
to be a
R U L E R

It’s the only true way
No matter what the
S C O R E
when you
L O S E
y o u
W I N

Not because of how you play

or even not because you love

but
T H A T
y o u
L O V E

. . .It’s a small difference
that pays a huge dividend
(e v e r y t i m e)

P u t
m e
i n,
C o a c h. . .
I ‘ m
F r e s h

Woodcutter’s Wisdom

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It’d be great to know. . .

wouldn’t it?

It’d be great to know what’s, literally,

D O W N T H E T R A C K. . .

W O U L D I T
D O E S I T
M A T T E R.          .          .          ?

The story has been blamed on many. . .
I’ve heard it
I’ve preached it
I’ve told it
I’ve taught it
and now, now
I’ll blog it:

Once there was an old man who lived in a tiny village. Although poor, he
was envied by all, for he owned a beautiful white horse. Even the king
coveted his treasure. A horse like this had never been seen before—such
was its splendor, its majesty, its strength.People offered fabulous prices for the steed, but the old man always refused. “This horse is not a horse to me,” he would tell them. “It is a person. How could you sell a person? He is a
friend, not a possession. How could you sell a friend?” The man was poor
and the temptation was great. But he never sold the horse.One morning he
found that the horse was not in the stable. All the village came to see him. “You old fool,” they scoffed, “we told you that someone would steal your
horse. We warned you that you would be robbed. You are so poor. How
could you ever hope to protect such a valuable animal? It would have been better to have sold him. You could have gotten whatever price you wanted. No amount would have been too high. Now the horse is gone, and you’ve
been cursed with misfortune.”The old man responded, “Don’t speak too
quickly. Say only that the horse is not in the stable. That is all we know; the rest is judgment. If I’ve been cursed or not, how can you know? How can
you judge?”The people contested, “Don’t make us out to be fools! We may
not be philosophers, but great philosophy is not needed. The simple fact
that your horse is gone is a curse.”The old man spoke again. “All I know is
that the stable is empty, and the horse is gone. The rest I don’t know.
Whether it be a curse or a blessing, I can’t say. All we can see is a fragment. Who can say what will come next?”The people of the village laughed. They
thought that the man was crazy. They had always thought he was a fool; if he wasn’t, he would have sold the horse and lived off the money. But instead, he was a poor woodcutter, an old man still cutting firewood and dragging it out of the forest and selling it. He lived hand to mouth in the misery of
poverty. Now he had proven that he was, indeed, a fool.After fifteen days,
the horse returned. He hadn’t been stolen; he had run away into the forest. Not only had he returned, he had brought a dozen wild horses with him.
Once again the village people gathered around the woodcutter and spoke. “Old man, you were right and we were wrong. What we thought was a curse was a blessing. Please forgive us.”The man responded, “Once again, you go too far. Say only that the horse is back. State only that a dozen horses
returned with him, but don’t judge. How do you know if this is a blessing or not? You see only a fragment. Unless you know the whole story, how can
you judge? You read only one page of a book. Can you judge the whole
book? You read only one word of a phrase. Can you understand the entire
phrase?”Life is so vast, yet you judge all of life with one page or one word. All you have is a fragment! Don’t say that this is a blessing. No one knows. I am content with what I know. I am not perturbed by what I don’t.””Maybe
the old man is right,” they said to one another. So they said little. But down deep, they knew he was wrong. They knew it was a blessing. Twelve wild
horses had returned with one horse. With a little bit of work, the animals could be broken and trained and sold for much money.The old man had a
son, an only son. The young man began to break the wild horses. After a
few days, he fell from one of the horses and broke both legs. Once again the villagers gathered around the old man and cast their judgments.
 
“You were right,” they said. “You proved you were right. The dozen horses were not a blessing. They were a curse. Your only son has broken his legs, and now in your old age you have no one to help you. Now you are poorer
than ever.”The old man spoke again. “You people are obsessed with judging. Don’t go so far. Say only that my son broke his legs. Who knows if it is a
blessing or a curse? No one knows. We only have a fragment. Life comes in fragments.”It so happened that a few weeks later the country engaged in
war against a neighboring country. All the young men of the village were
required to join the army. Only the son of the old man was excluded,
because he was injured. Once again the people gathered around the old
man, crying and screaming because their sons had been taken. There was
little chance that they would return. The enemy was strong, and the war
would be a losing struggle. They would never see their sons again.”You
were right, old man,” they wept. “God knows you were right. This proves it. Your son’s accident was a blessing. His legs may be broken, but at least he
is with you. Our sons are gone forever.”The old man spoke again. “It is
impossible to talk with you. You always draw conclusions. No one knows.
Say only this: Your sons had to go to war, and mine did not. No one knows
if it is a blessing or a curse. No one is wise enough to know. Only God
knows.”The old man was right. We only have a fragment. Life’s mishaps
and horrors are only a page out of a grand book. We must be slow about
drawing conclusions. We must reserve judgment on life’s storms until
we know the whole story. 

 

We don’t know,
do we. . .
Is it a blessing
Is it a curse
this track
this road
this path
this way
we are on. . .


The one sure thing
maybe the only thing
is that while on the road
we travel not alone. . .

. , ,We are all on the same track. . .
just different sections of it;
so reach out and grab
H O L D
a Hand. . .
and make the
J O U R N E Y
a little easier,
a lot more enjoyable
and t h e n,
then notice
R E C O G O N I Z E
The HAND
that extends
and holds our own


Is the only hand
is the only path
is the only good and bad
is the only the happy and sad
is the only woodcutter’s wisdom
we ever need to get us down
the-not-so-easily-seen-ahead-track
that’s before us all. . .
It’s the only story that matters
and it’s not so much told
as LIVED. . .
and it’s
O U R ‘ S






Professional Speaker, Author, Assurance Man