https://youtu.be/SQuyCc1Cuac
So just what is in your
L U N C H B O X. . .
Maybe the bigger question is:
just
what
are
you
w i l l i n g
t o
s h a r e. . .
and the greatest question yet:
A R E Y O U ?
B I K E D
I’ve got a mouth that belongs in the Circus.
For as long as I’ve talked, I’ve loved to talk. . .
from A-B-C’s to Abstracts. . .
from simple syllables to significant stories,
I love the written word—spoken.
I’ve made my livelihood with my mouth, from sermons to speaking engagements to Life Celebrations, Memorial Services, Keynotes, Workshops, Weddings, Commitment Ceremonies, Master of Ceremonies, Small groups, Leadership Training Series to Counseling sessions to simple phone calls to 1 on 1 conversations.
My mouth has taken me to many different places and put me in front of a lot of Eclectic audiences,
but one of my favorite of late, without any hesitations,
was at Lake Erie Harley-Davidson Sales Company for
T H E B L E S S I N G O F T H E B I K E S
I unfortunately met Mike Stevens a couple of years ago when his father George, who had been the proud owner of Lake Erie Harley-Davidson, died of a heart attack.
I was honored to conduct George’s service which included an awesome tribute of a motorcycle procession to the cemetery.
Because of a prior commitment,
I wasn’t able to participate in the Blessing of the Bikes in 2014,
but was so honored that Mike didn’t forget me and booked me to be there
the last two years
and then again this year on May 13, 2017
There was not a cloud in the sky and it’s blueness served as a perfect backdrop for a
perfect Sun and all of it’s warm rays. . .
there would be no fear
that this beautiful morning
would be more of a Baptism than a Blessing,
in fact,
the only thing that outshone the Sun
was the multitude of warmth and brightness
by those who came to have a complimentary pancake breakfast before
a brief meditation. . .
and standing proudly by their Bikes
before heading out on their various treks.
“There’s a huge ROCK that you can’t help but to see when you pull into this Dealership. It represents a man, George Stevens, the foundation for this Company and more, the one who has brought countless people together. . .and still is. The Road promises us nothing, in fact, it almost always guarantees lots of danger and uncertainty, but it offers up a Creed where the Law is Love and the Gospel is Peace…Ride Well…Ride Safe…,”
I offered up before going to each bike and individually blessing it and its Rider(s).
I usually asked each bike owner how many miles they had on their bikes and no matter what their answer,
I would offer,
“And yet the best miles are those still yet to be ridden. . .No matter what roads you go down or come back up, from the most dangerous to the most comforting, may you be blessed to bless those you’ll undoubtably meet. . . .”
A 68 year old lady who as ready to saddle up for a day of riding told me that she never felt more alive than when she was riding.
Another lady told me that this was a Sanctuary on two-wheels; that she felt truly worshipful and the Presence while riding.
A man, eyes filled with tears told me that he only had gotten his bike because it was his dying wife’s last wish for him and he now rides every mile not for her, but with her;
A proud grandfather stood beside his bike with his small grandson by his side and proudly said, “This is his, he’s just letting me ride it for a little while longer. . .”
Couples, Ladies, Men, Young, Old
and all in between were there to show
intensely that Road before them
was for the Riding and the Living. . .
I was being accompanied to each bike by Lori, who literally had an offering bag, where the riders gave donations for Hospice of the Western Reserve.
I got B I K E D that day in a most intimate way.
B l e s s o r B l e s s e d
is there a distinction?
Uh. . .not THAT Saturday,
not for those couple of hours in the Sun
where the Sun was even more
magnificently manufactured
and much more pure because of it. . .
A Community came together
and He-Who-Was-First-Created was very Present;
A Journey wasn’t begun that morning,
only Continued in a most profound way
and the hummmmmm of the Engines
was really a Symphony of
H E A R T B E A T S
A b r a c a d a b r a a w e s o m e l y h e a l i n g
( S t i l l i s )
Harmonics
It’s true. . .
I’m a One – Song – Musician
When it comes to the Harmonica the very first song I learned,
ended up literally being the last one:
O L D S U S A N N A
I usually get lots of mileage out of that when I’m giving a Keynote Speech.
I relay it back to the strong fact that there’s not really much need for a
One-Song-Musician.
I mean, I can’t book a Concert Hall and play Old Susanna for a solid two-and-a-half hours to be followed by another fifteen minute encore, right?
The point?
Just because we do
ONE OUTSTANDING DEED,
it doesn’t let us off the hook for never having to do another one–EVER!
As much as there just isn’t much need for a One-Song-Musician,
there’s not a whole lot of curtain calls for a
One-Deed-Good-Samaritan, either.
We are NOT called to do good,
to be Compassionate,
Caring,
Understanding,
Accepting,
Forgiving,
just once or once in a while. . .
but E V E R Y T I M E
I had just given an early morning talk to an area Rotary Club
and actually began the talk without saying a word. . .
just pulling out my harmonica and playing my beloved,
O N E S O N G
I made my point.
I finished my talk to a standing ovation
(I knew I could play THAT song, but I had no idea it would cause such a powerful reaction)
and after staying around and talking with several people,
I made my way to the nearest STARBUCKS for my morning cup of coffee before during some patient visits,
a funeral
and another talk to end the day.
I KID YOU NOT
while I was standing in line,
there was a guy who came into a now fairly crowded STARBUCKS to get his morning fix actually
playing a harmonica!
Everyone kind of stopped. . .
I mean texting, googling, face-booking, tweeting, talking–
and looked up as the guy get in line right beside me playing his bluesy song.
When he came up for a breath,
I told him that I too was a HARMONICIST
“Really,” he sounded surprised?
“Really, ” I echoed back,
“but I’m a very specialized harmonicist.”
“Specialized?”
“Yes sir! I know just one song, but I know it real, real, REAL good–Old Susanna!”
We both laughed.
I asked him what he liked playing the best and he answered me by playing some rag-tag-hot-bluesy-piece.
I told him
T H A T
just earned him a free cup of coffee.
Now that our order was in, we went to the end of the other line to wait to our Fixes.
He told me that he played at as many amateur nights as he could find,
but often had to compete unfairly with guitarists.
Our orders now delivered,
I shook his hand,
thanked him for his mini-concert and wished him continued success and blessings in the present and future.
His last sentence to me was of pure music. . .
Grammy worthy:
“Thanks, my man. . .
I’m just a song looking for a pair of ears!”
Ain’t we all?
Well, worth a cup of coffee, huh?
Who would have thought that I walked in thirsting for a Breve Venti Latte
and walked out with my latte,
a smile,
a story and a great memory that I,
that we,
are m o r e,
so very much more than meets the eye or the ear.
What a shame if it were just shared
O N C E !
B E
the song that needs heard,
sung,
danced,
remembered
–repeatedly–
often. . .
H A R M O N I C S
At it’s Best !
(and o u r s)
PUNCTUATED
Hurt people hurt people. . .
especially themselves
I don’t keep those statistics. . .
over thirty-six years I don’t know how many Celebrations of Life I’ve conducted of those who have committed suicide. . .
Personally, I find only still-born or infant/children Celebrations of Life more difficult to do and
. . .to understand.
He literally kept his truck running as he pulled into a parking lot near a bridge and ran to it, full force, until reaching the middle and then without hesitation he hurled himself over the edge to the 200 foot plunge to a ravine below.
W H Y ?
She had just had a long, but painful relationship come to an end. She ran herself a bath, lined the tub with candles and framed pictures of them–dances, weddings, New Year’s Eve parties, vacations, the recently passed Christmas, kissing under a sprig of Mistletoe they both held above their heads. A CD they had compiled was playing as she laid back in the warm water and slit her wrists and ankles.
W H Y ?
She received a diagnosis of not just cancer, but cancer that has in fact, metastasized but decided not to let the disease take her life when she could control, the how, the when and the where. . .and did with some meds that she stockpiled and went to bed, to sleep forever one snowy night.
W H Y ?
Straw is lighter than a whisper without a breeze
. . .unless it’s the last one. . .
the one that makes whatever load born now incredibly
u n b e a r a b l e
Such a piece of hay was his
as he faced yet one more strand of straw with the news of possible incarceration
and he walked in front of an oncoming train.
W H Y ?
The studies will tell you that 90% of the people are dealing with a mental illness at the time of their death.
In the end,
because there is the end,
it really doesn’t matter if it’s because of depression or psychosis,
or an impulse,
or a crying out for help,
or a philosophical desire to die or because of terrible mistake made. . .
there’s an end;
I’ve just recently come across an idea I’d never heard or seen before
that spoke to me not so much in words, but
p u n c t u a t i o n. . .
It’s called:
THE PUNCTUATION PROJECT
and it’s purpose is the use the semicolon when a sentence could have ended
. . .but didn’t;
The movement is for anyone who has ever self-harmed
has a personality disorder
or has tried to kill themselves.
The semicolon is being used as a sign,
a symbol of hope.
It’s s h o u t i n g out:
“YOUR SENTENCE IS NOT OVER YET!”
The movement seems to be catching on because,
obviously it’s not just a Robin Williams-like celebrity that commits suicide;
Many are getting it ‘inked’ on their wrists or other parts of their bodies.
;
I think it’s growing on me. . .
this semicolon symbol. . .
and if it just allows one. . .
j u s t o n e
person to keep their sentence moving,
well then. . .
Mother Theresa once said:
“THERE IS MORE HUNGER IN THE WORLD FOR LOVE AND APPRECIATION THAN FOR BREAD.”
Indeed. . .
the World is one hungry place. . .
but you have all the food necessary to feed one
or all carrying that one, single,
devastating piece of straw.
It just may be a phone call,
whether one made to you or the one you share at the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255
or share: suicidepreventionlifeline.org.
There is no greater sentence in anyone’s book more powerful than the one that’s lived;
punctuated with exclamation points of
love,
acceptance,
compassion
and understanding—
all within your DNA.
H e a l e d p e o p l e h e a l e d p e o p l e
A Helper’s High(er)
Have you ever suffered from
A L T I T U D E S I C K N E S S ?
I’m not asking what’s the highest mountain you’ve ever climbed
or if you’ve ever hiked a Pike’s Peak-like trail;
I’m asking did you ever feel the highest of high’s:
A H E L P E R ‘ S H I G H ?
No, it’s not a myth or even a goal to have or aspire. . .
it’s very real and like most real things,
it not only evokes a lot of opinions and theories,
but also a lot of studies that actually present facts.
Take any N D A D. . .
That’s right, a Non-Directed Anonymous Donor. . .these are people who literally walk in off the street and say that they are healthy and would like to donate a kidney; not to a family member or a distant relative or a very close childhood friend. . .NO, to an actual person they have never met and quite possible never will; a true; NON-DIRECTED ANONYMOUS DONOR.
Dr. David Lansburg, director of kidney transplants for British Columbia, Vancouver says that such a donation sets off a chain reaction of giving as well as a saving multiple lives.
You think?
Dr. Abraham Maslow called such acts, witnessed and shared,
P E A K E X P E R I E N C E S. . .
Dr. Jonathan Haidt is a psychologist calls this peak experience ELATION and describes it as a warm feeling in the chest, a sensation of expansion in the heart, an increased desire to help, and increased sense of connection with others.
Well. . .
are you buying THIS a cup of coffee
or treating it like some discarded moldy grounds?
BE YOUR OWN STUDY
You don’t have to go too far back into your own personal photo album to remember,
do you?
If someone yells at you for no good reason, first thing in the morning. . .
it’s sets off a chemical reaction inside of you that would make the most sophisticated Chemistry Sets pale in comparison.
Pssssssssssssssst:
The same is true if you
DO GOOD. . .or even witness good being done!
FACT: When you do even the simplest of kind things, you literally feel happier–because you do; it’s the brain’s natural versions of morphine and heroin–they call it dopamine.
FACT: Kindness gives you a healthier heart. Oxytocin causes the release of nitric oxide which expands the blood vessels, hence, lowering blood pressure.
FACT: Kindess slows down the aging process. The study of Tibetan Buddhist’s Loving Kindness Compassion meditation found that kindness and compassion did, in fact, reduce inflammation in the body.
FACT: Kindness makes for better relationships. Seriously, do you hate seeing an act of kindness or actually having one done to you?
FACT: Kindness is contagious. Let’s go back to our 28 year old Non-Directed Anonymous Donor (NDAD) who walked into a clinic and donated a kidney. It set off a “pay it forward ” type of ripple effect where the spouses or other family members of recipients of a kidney donated one of theirs to someone in need. The “domino effect,” as it is called in the New England Journal of Medicine report, spanned the length and breadth of the United States, where 10 people received a new kidney as a result of a that single anonymous donor.
So. . .
you want to get H I G H ?
Get your kindness on. . .
It’s the one Rock you can throw
that’ll start three ripples with the first skip:
The ripple for the recipient
The ripple for you
The ripple for the one who might see the kindness. . .
One simple act of kindness will get you a one way ticket to a
H e l p e r ‘s H i g h
W A R N I N G:
B E W A R E. . .
T H I S I S H I G H L Y A D D I C T I V E
A True VICTOR
Are you a Victim
or a
V I C T O R ?
Or just a
Chuck,
Erin,
Sam,
Henry,
Danica,
Johnny,
Joe,
an Anybody. . .
Somebody. . .
Nobody. . . ?
About once a month we get free buffets at the Horseshoe Casino
Great Dinner. . .
but the
S E R V I C E
was way beyond ordinary;
V i c t o r
He seated us
and poured out ice teas
and then gave us some complimentary bottled waters. . .
He got real excited when he announced
that he had something very special for us,
and he even more excited
when he brought some special made appetizers. . .
did I mention that this was a b u f f e t
and not some Four-Star restaurant?
He brought us back fancy desserts
that weren’t up on the dessert tray. . .
He couldn’t be more accommodating and kind;
He got a little embarrassed
when I asked him about himself
and how long he had been working here at the casino. . .
He said he loved
w a i t i n g
on people
and that we had been great people to serve. . .
W O W
I was watching the other servers,
but no one was running around like Victor. . .
No one was giving
who they were serving
anything e x t r a. . .
I even saw a few roll their eyes
when someone had left them a less than satisfactory tip. . .
Victor was a most excellent
S E R V E R
A True Caring Catalyst
I gave him a huge tip that night. . .
He was very grateful and very surprised;
I told him that he was most excellent and he
m a d e
our night extra ordinary. . .
I have him a big tip
but he had given me a
t i p
much larger
and even more significant:
S E R V E P E O P L E
MORE THAN THE EXPECT OR DESERVE
WITHOUT ANY EXPECTATION OF ANYTHING IN RETURN
He made me ask a question
a r e a l q u e s t i o n:
Am I more of a
V i c t i m
or a
V I C T O R ?
Victor showed me that no matter what Color
No matter what your Race,
No matter what your Creed,
No matter what your Gender,
No matter what your political Persuasion,
You can still serve others by serving in the best way possible;
Victor showed me that it’s not about
doing for others as you would have them do unto you
so much as serving others as they would like
in a most perfect way. . .
Victor s h o w e d
that it’s not about giving people what they deserve,
it’s about just giving to others
j u s t b e c a u s e
Are you?
Are you more
A Victim
or
A V i c t o r?
Psssssssssssssst:
S H O W M E. . .
better still
S H O W O T H E R S
(lots of them)
o f t e n
T O U C H E D
He was the first AIDS patient I had ever met, let alone visit.
He was in the hospital and I was a part-time Protestant Chaplain.
I HAD TO VISIT HIM
within the first 24 hours of his admittance;
He was sick. . .
very, very sick. . .
It was 1993
He didn’t say he was gay
. . .I didn’t ask.
I introduced myself and explained why I was coming by to visit him.
I asked if he was comfortable and if there were was a Church or someone he wanted me to contact?
He told me that he grew up Catholic and had fallen away. . .
that he never felt comfortable or was made to feel welcome. . .
He told me that
‘t h e s t o r i e s’
didn’t ever make much sense to him
and felt like it was a little late to make any sense of them now. . .
He told me that he was a professional Ice-Skater/Choreographer
and really missed being with his students;
While we talking an Aide brought in his lunch–
Soup. . .
some orange jiggly jello. . .
a toasted cheese sandwich. . .
a carton of milk. . .
and an extra side of sandwich;
There were tears in his eyes which started streaming down his cheeks. . .
and before I could say another word. . .
“THEY do this three times a day. . .
THREE TIMES. . .
and then walk out thinking I can feed myself. . .”
He half laughed as he started sobbing
“JESUS CHRIST. . . I’M IN HERE BECAUSE I CAN’T FEED MYSELF!”
We both started laughing. . .
I opened up his milk carton and put a straw in it and gave him a sip
I cut his toasted cheese sandwich into small squares and gave him a bite
I brought the bowl of soup to his lips so he could sip it
I put a spoon in the jello and brought a small spoonful of jiggle to his mouth
I wiped his chin when another sip of milk dribbled out
and I held his hand
and I held his hand
and I held his hand
and I held his hand
and asked him if he wanted me to offer a prayer. . .
He put his other hand over top of mine
and didn’t look up
for what seemed like a longer than a significant moment could ever hold;
He spoke very slowly and almost in a sigh:
“You know. . .
I can’t remember the last time that anyone has ever touched me without having to. . .
I can’t remember anyone ever touching me without gloves on or wearing protective clothing. . .
I can’t remember. . .
I can’t remember. . .
I can’t remember. . . .”
he said over and over again.
I broke the trance
by asking him again if it would be okay if I offered him that prayer. . .
I’ll never forget what he said next:
“YOU JUST DID”
I said what you usually do a the end of a prayer as I squeezed his hand:
“a m e n”
T O U C E D
It wasn’t the first time
it certainly hasn’t been the last time
but I’m at the very best of me
when I can’t answer,
t r u t h f u l l y
WHO
TOUCHED
WHO ?
The Man on The Moon
https://youtu.be/wuz2ILq4UeA
Are you more of a
V E R B
o r a
N O U N ?
There are lots of Seasons
There are lots of comings and goings
There are lots of Beginnings and Endings
There are lots of Starts and Finishes
There are lots of things that none of those things can compare. . .
L O N E L I N E S S
being just one of them. . .
Loneliness is the only season that lasts all twelve months—
no vacation or holiday.
H O W E V E R
I F
Loneliness were a Disease,
YOU’D be the Cure. . .
I F
Loneliness were a Destination,
YOU’D be the Road from it. . .
I F
Loneliness were a complex Math problem,
YOU’D be the Answer. . .
I F
Loneliness were an Ocean,
YOU’D be it’s Shore. . .
I F
Loneliness were a a Sunset
YOU’D be its Sunrise. . .
I F
Loneliness were a Sentence
YOU’D be its Reprieve. . .
I F
Loneliness were a Verdict
YOU’D be its Appeal. . .
I F
Loneliness were hunger
YOU’D be its Banquet. . .
I F
Loneliness were Thirst
YOU’D be its Oasis. . .
I F
Loneliness were poison
YOU’D be its Antidote. . .
I F
Loneliness were Antarctica
YOU’D be its Equator. . .
I F
Loneliness were a man on the moon
YOU’D be his first Visitor. . .
Y O U
are the Great answer to
Loneliness in all of its forms and guises
I F
You’re more of a
V E R B
than a
N O U N
by just
s h o w i n g u p
instead of just shaking your head and
t a l k i n g i t a b o u t i t . . .
The man on the moon would really like
T H A T . . .
people much,
m u c h closer would, too;
Every Season should have an Ending
after it’s Beginning. . .
Loneliness is the one Season
you can have Effect of
not just ending. . .
but actually making it
e x t i n c t. . .
Are you more of a
V E R B
or a
N O U N ?
SOME ONE
is looking for you to
S H O W T H E M !
F O C U S
in on
t h e m . . .
Make half-way around the world
a
t o u c h
a w a y
All Hands ON. . .
The problem with
H A N D S
is not that we all have them. . .
it’s that they are not always joined;
Our hands c a n
and have done so much on their own. . .
but when they are joined together with other hands
the imagination isn’t vast enough to comprehend
what can be accomplished;
Could have H A N D S joined together
stopped the tragic,
senseless violence that takes place all to often in
Anywhere, USA. . . ?
P E R H A P S
We will never know. . .
but H A N D S joined together can go along way in
providing the
H E A L I N G
What to do. . .
Imperfect hands in an imperfect world. . .
S I M P L E :
H E A L I T !
I’m often. . .
too often reminded
Of the story of a Rabbi who prayed daily that God would make a perfect world in which there would be no hatred, jealousy, pain, disease, pain or problems. One night, God appeared to the Rabbi in a dream and took him on tour of the world made perfect. The Rabbi saw his house, his synagogue, his town. Lions and lambs laid together. Still, the Rabbi was troubled. . .something was missing. “Where am I in this perfect world?” the Rabbi asked. God offered an apologetic answer: “This is the Perfect World you requested. You must understand that you are not perfect, so you cannot be included.”
Now, this is where
I would usually plug in some
facts,
figures,
data
scientific studies
that would prove
K I N D N E S S
is not just an option
it’s a healthier life style. . .
but
sometimes you just don’t need a study
to tell you
what you already know. . .
F A C T :
Terrible. . .
most horrible things take place in our lives and in our World
but they have no relationship on how we live our lives of
Care and Compassion. . .
F A C T :
Expecting the World to treat us fairly
because we are nice people
is like expecting a Bull not to gore us
just because we’re vegetarians. . .
F A C T :
We may never be able to prevent horrible events from happening again. . .
but by coming together
by joining hands
by Unconditionally Caring
by Unrelentlessly being Compassionate
we lessen pain and make the World a better place
N O M A T T E R W H A T
F A C T :
The Future isn’t a place we go to
It’s a Place we Create
F A C T :
By joining hands in Care and Compassion
the Future becomes a much better
P R E S E N T
a more hopeful
N O W
Join me
p l e a s e
oh please oh please oh
p l e a s e
NOT Lives Touched
I became a part-time-on-call-Chaplain at Fairview Hospital in 1988
The hours were from 5 p.m. to 8:00 a.m. five or six days a month,
and it was usually Emergency Room cases
that had me rolling out of my warm bed
on cold winter nights to attend to those crises. . .
It was those catastrophes
that involved car accidents,
shootings,
heart attacks,
still births,
suicides
and some natural caused deaths. . .
I met and cared for many more family members
than I ever did patients in those settings and they taught be
the most important,
the most sacred,
the most intimate,
the most significant,
the most heart-wrenching,
the most profane
the most consecrated,
the most hallowed lesson
I’ve learned in all my 61 years
and had affirmed and validated countless times over since:
IT IS NOT THE LIVES
YOU TOUCH THAT MATTERS. . .
SO MUCH AS THE
L I V E S
T O U C H E D
BECAUSE OF THOSE YOU FIRST HAVE TOUCHED !
It’s a lesson
I’ve learned
re-learned
continuing to learn
and never fully
comprehend
or
understand. . .
and hopefully never will–
even with the very next life I touch
to continue the never-ending
wave. . .
Go ahead. . .
T O U C H A L I F E
Create a Ripple–
try seeing where it ends. . .
or better still. . .
what it starts in yet another person
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