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 ?
Who Cares - What Matters
If you're new here, you may want to subscribe to my RSS feed. Thanks for visiting!
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 ?
It was a big inside and outside game we all played when we got together. . .
in fact, it always seemed like Easter
was that Official call to bring FAMILY
together and start the
Spring-quickly-into-Summer activities.
I was G O O D. . .
REAL GOOD. . .
So Good that the Game would sometime END without me.
Hide and Seek
I had a real classic hiding place–
(Psssst: Don’t tell anyone)
It was underneath my grandparents front porch–
their old coal cellar.
I think it was so good,
because even if someone opened up the door,
it was too dark to venture down there. . .
Real dirty like too,
with Spiders and centipedes and other things
I never learned the names.
There was a real part of me that hoped I’d NEVER get found
and a part of me that
was really hurt when
I D I D N ‘ T G E T Found.
Mr. Borchert, lived across the street and he always sat on his front porch,
listening to Pittsburgh Pirate ball games on his transistor radio.
He never gave me up or paid me much mind.
L i t e r a l l y,
when the kids would move on to the next street to play
Kick-the-Can or
Red-Light, Green-Light
and leave me without so much of an
A L L – I E , A L L -I E , I N F R E E ,
he’d spy me coming out,
dirty and hurt from underneath the Front porch and yell over,
“They didn’t find you again,”
as an offered up badge of honor,
but it never stuck much.
I WAS MAD. . .
H U R T
We all kind of want to get
F O U N D
don’t we?
NO. . .
Not FOUND OUT. . .
just F O U N D
Not many ever really continue the Search. . .
in spite of some really great Hiding Places,
We often give up the Search much too early.
Maybe we get bored easily. . .
Maybe we get redirected. . .
Maybe we get misdirected . . .
Maybe we get sophisticated. . . .
But. . .
but we all yearn for the call of
A L L – I E , A L L – I E I N F R E E ,
don’t we?
To be Counted
To be IN
To be Included
To be Important
To be Recognized
To be Found
TO BE. . . .
What’s your Game?
Are you winning?
Have you lost?
Have you given up P L A Y I N G long ago?
Have you been FOUND
(o u t) ?
S h h h h h h h h. . . .
Listen. . .
It may be far off, but still just barely audible
. . .heard above the
T H U M P I N G
of your heart in your ears that’s caused by getting
F O U N D. . .
or just not hiding as well as you thought!
No matter. . .
The Game’s over and you’re
H O M E. . .
F R E E!
Seriously,
there’s no better feeling is there?
THEN,
NOW,
Maybe FOREVER:
There was a real part of me that hoped
I’d NEVER
get found
and a part of me that’s
really hurt when I DIDN’T. . . .
Apples,
Peaches,
Pumpkin Pie,
Who’s NOT READY
Holler,
” I “
Have you?
Have you ever been EMPATHETIC-ED?
I mean. . .
the The New York Times. . .T W I C E in the Sunday, July 12, 2015 edition (See at the Bottom of the Blog)
Stewart Butterfield’s article,
IS YOUR EMPATHY ON YOUR RESUME?
actually states:
“If you have no ability to empathize, then it’s difficult to give people feedback, and it’s difficult to help people improve. Everything becomes harder.”
Daryl Cameron’s article: EMPATHY IS ACTUALLY A CHOICE, reports:
“It’s not that you can’t feel it. You just don’t want to.”
Something like
e m p a t h y
should never come down to
S c i e n c e,
but what could actually offer more proof?
Decades of research, including behavioral studies, in which people act empathically in controlled situations, even when it’s in their self-interest not to,
and in MRI studies,
in which emotive brain structures activate when the subject hears about another person’s experience.
Let’s face it, it it weren’t for
E M P A T H Y
Authors and Hollywood would be out of business
. . .F O R E V E R
But. . .it doesn’t matter, does it?
BEHAVIORAL SCIENCE
tells us, there are mental disorders, such as sociopathy, that stops people from being able to feel empathy.
BUT. . .
most people aren’t sociopaths.
Some research suggests that 4% of the population is sociopathic. . .
I’m terrible at Math. . .
but even I know that would obviously mean 96% of all humans feel empathy. . .
a pretty large number, huh?
What. . .
what does it matter?
If you’ve truly been
E M P A T H E T I C – E D
It means you care in return. . .
or you fake it. . .
or. . .
you can’t feel it all. . . .
referrer=http://mobile.nytimes.com/2015/07/12/opinion/sunday/empathy-is-actually-a-choice.html?referrer=
We all need a feel good Video
to begin the week, don’t we?
Here’s the YouTube sensation
cruising the web
since first airing
last week on
AMERICA’S GOT TALENT
Eleven-year-old ventriloquist
Darcy Lynne
W O W
doesn’t do it justice. . .
I don’t know what you saw
I don’t know what you heard
S E E
H E A R
it again
and just simply
a s k
What S O N G is in me
that needs
not so much
s u n g
but
h e a r d
by an audience begging to scream
W O W
. . .S I N G
t h a t
S O N G
e n d l e s s l y
Be
a
V O I C E
h e a r d
Sometimes it happens to
M E. . .
Y o u ?
Sometimes my inner and outer
Caring Catalyst
gets scabbed over
o k. . .
C A L L O U S E D
and then it gets
s o f t e n e d
with the
s i m p l e s t
the most
s i g n i f i c a n t
things:
A mere phone call. . .
I hadn’t heard from him in a long time–
y e a r s
We had been colleagues
but never close
and never social. . .
we might have seen each other across the room
at a conference or a luncheon presentation
but neither would make a move to meet
in the middle. . .
an acquaintance
nothing more
maybe even
l e s s
and then
I had heard recently after giving a presentation
at a local hospital
that he had suffered a severe stroke. . .
I think I reached out
benignly
via a FaceBook Instant Message
that I was thinking of him and wishing him the best
and then. . .
h o n e s t l y
I f o r g o t a b o u t him. . .
When the cell phone rang
I didn’t recognize the number
but I broke my rule of answering a
number I didn’t recognize
and it was him. . .
He quickly identified himself
and even before I could say
h e l l o
or ask him how he was doing
he was apologizing. . .
asking forgiveness for
not keeping in touch
talking about me behind my back
not being supportive when he knew I had been going through a particularly tough professional situation. . .
and then through broken sobs
he was asking if I and everyone I knew
could pray for his healing—
not his complete healing from the stroke,
just a partial healing that would allow him to play his music
on the piano and guitar
he often did for patients and families
and with a jazz group he would jam with
on Friday nights. . .
the scab gave loose. . .
the callous
s o f t e n d
Sometimes it happens to me. . .
y o u ?
Sometimes my inner and outer
Caring Catalyst
gets scabbed
ok. . .
C A L L O U S E D;
Has that happened to you?
When was the last time?
Me?
It happened when
Humility Dialed A Phone
and
I
a n s w e r e d
the scab gave loose
the callous–
softened. . .
Me. . . ?
h u m b l y
c h a n g e d
S i m p l e Q u e s t i o n:
W H A T M A K E S Y O U H A P P Y ?
A good Cigar
Some fine music
Adult Beverage
A Book
A Beautiful Outside Setting
? ? ? ? ?
Not for everyone, huh?
Is there that overwhelming
100%
slam-dunk
one-size-fits-and-pleases-all
solution to
W O R L D
or
p e r s o n a l
H A P P I N E S S
Hmmmmmmmmmmmm. . .
the answer might not
uhhhh make yoiu
h a p p y. . .
Maybe it’s just being overemphasized;
Did you know that
H A P P I N E S S
has it’s own it’s own
h o l i d a y ?
Just a few years ago
The General Assembly of the United Nations
proclaimed MARCH 20
to the be the
International Day of Happiness. . .
Oops. . .
I missed it;
I didn’t celebrate. . .
But it is easy to see why
H A P P I N E S S
is worth celebrating:
Happy people are healthier;
they get sick less often
THEY LIVE L O N G E R
Happy people have better realtionships
more friends
make more money
are more productive at work. . .
Based on decades of research
it’s become very clear
that Happiness is not just a personal issue;
it’s a matter of public health,
global economics
and natural well being
B U T
it’s subjective, isn’t it?
THE GREATER GOOD SCIENCE CENTER
(Yes, it really does exist–Google it)
They simply recommend through
S C I E N T I F I C S T U D Y
ACKNOWLEDGE THE GOOD
(WRITE DOWN 3 THINGS A DAY YOU ARE GRATEFUL )
ADD HAPPINESS THROUGH SUBTRACTION
(GIVE IT UP PRACTICE–GIVE UP WHAT YOU REALLY LIKE JUST FOR A LITTLE BIT OF TIME SO YOU CAN APPRECIATE IT EVEN ALL THE MORE)
FIND MEANING AND PURPOSE
(TAKE PICTURES OF PEOPLE AND THINGS THAT ARE MEANINGFUL TO YOU AND LITERALLY JOURNAL FOR 15 MINUTES A DAY JUST ABOUT YOUR IDEAL FUTURE AND WHAT IT WOULD LOOK LIKE)
USE YOUR STRENGTH
(PICK ONE OF YOUR STRENGTHS AND USE IT EXCLUSIVELY IN A NEW AND DIFFERENT WAY FOR A WEEK AND THEN ANOTHER AND THEN ANOTHER. . . )
CONNECT WITH OTHERS
(JUST DO FIVE RANDOM ACTS OF KINDNESS A DAY–NOT OVER A WEEK, BUT A DAY FOR A WEEK; STUDIES SHOUT THAT WHEN YOU DO–GIVE–IT SIGNIFICANTLY MAKES YOU HAPPIER)
WHAT REALLY MAKES YOU HAPPY ?
It’s different for everyone
T H A N K F U L L Y
QUICK ANSWER:
WHATEVER FEEDS YOUR SOUL
but you’ve got to
ACTUALLY FEED YOUR SOUL
it won’t happen
through osmosis
IF HAPPINESS IS A TRAIN
YOU DON’T HAVE TO RIDE THE CABOOSE
OR JUST BE A PASSENGER
WATING TO GO TO THE DINING CAR
ENGINEER THAT TRAIN
AND TOOT-TOOT YOURSELF DOWN THE TRACK
NOT TO HAPPINESS
BUT TO YOUR
S E V E N T H H E A V E N
SEE YOU AT THE STATION!
CHOOO-CHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Do you have one?
Do you remember a time when you actually saw an
A C T O F G E N E R O S I T Y ?
Erin, my wife, gave this Parka from Alaska via a Thrift store, right off her back on a cold winter day when she saw someone she recognized, who rode his bike everyday from his house to a local coffee shop, now in a cold snow storm, without a coat.
A friend, Terry, did the same thing a few years ago. A group of us from Church made sandwiches, bought gloves to literally pass out to the homeless on a cold, Sunday afternoon. We literally had given everything we came downtown to give and there was one, cold gentleman who got there late and asked if there was anything left; the sandwiches, gloves, hats had all been distributed, but Terry literally took off her coat and sweatshirt and gave it to the man.
I just heard about a guy on an airplane who actually tipped the Flight Attendant a $100.00 for the amazing job she did serving during the flight.
He was standing at a Stop Light in front of a Strip Mall with a Panera Bread. As I came up to the light he was standing there just holding a sign. . .no bucket or anything to collect money. He wasn’t aggressive. . .just standing there holding a sign I’ve never seen anyone E V E R hold before:
S E E K I N G H U M A N K I N D N E S S
I rolled down the window and for the first time in my life,
gave a $10 d o l l a r b i l l
and the meal we had just bought. . .
I never knew that such an offering could buy such an expression on someone’s face;
Do you have one?
Do you remember a time when you actually saw an
A C T O F G E N E R O S I T Y ?
There is no way to ever measure,
is there,
the exact effect it had on the
O N E
who actually received such an act of generosity–
F O R G E T T H A T
Having witnessed an Act of Generosity…
WHAT EFFECT DID IT HAVE ON YOU?
Has it worn off?
Did it inspire you to
GO AND DO LIKEWISE ?
G e n e r o u s A C T S
will do that…
so do the TELLING
so do the HEARING
of such acts. . . .
DO TELL
S H A R E
so that WE will not only get the benefit. . .
but be inspired to make our own
Stories of Generosity
to be witnessed
to tell
to be told
to experience
to inspire yet even more
to tell
to be told
to experience
to inspire
to make
G E N E R O S I T Y
more than just a mere
WORD. . .
DO TELL
S H A R E
What’s
Y O U R S T O R Y ?
Would you?
If they could dispense Compassion from the local Pharmacy,
would you go get a prescription?
S H O U L D Y O U ?
Well it truly might not be that far off–
l i k e t o m o r r o w.
There could literally be a pill to make us more Compassionate.
TIME MAGAZINE reports that’s what a new study suggests.
Studies do that, don’t they:
S U G G E S T S. . . .
A group led by researchers at the University of California Berkeley and the University of California San Francisco shows that by manipulating a brain chemical, people can become more compassionate and act in prosocial ways to equalize differences.
You know how these studies go:
You get a group of people and give half a placebo and the other “the Drug” they hope will effect change.
Well, in this particular study, it showed ever so slightly that those given a dopamine drug were more likely to share money with strangers than those who were given the placebo.
So. . .
Would You. . .
Should You. . .
Take a Compassionate Pill?
Forget about your Dopamine levels,
what about your
Compassionate Level?
If there were a way to determine such a level from a mere blood draw,
would your levels be depressingly low?
Would you need a
C o m p a s s i o n a t e B o o s t e r ?
The Hmmmmmmm Experiment of the Day:
Without placebo or anything else remotely fake,
EXPERIMENT with being nice to just one person
–any gesture of nice-ness–
and then being nice to another and another and another.
Here’s the Hypothesis:
THE MORE COMPASSIONATE YOU ARE, THE MORE DOPAMINE GETS RELEASED TO BE EVEN MORE COMPASSIONATE
Here’s the real test:
Test if being OVER COMPASSIONATE will make your Dopamine levels reach dangerous, uncharted measurements.
Psssssst: Go directly to Vegas and BET IT!
Compassion doesn’t get dispensed in a bottle, a capsule or a syringe. . .
It’s literally a TOUCH away. . .
right at the end of your hand.
Try it.
Try DISPROVING that
COMPASSIONATE RELATIONSHIPS–
NOT technology
NOT Pharmaceuticals
H E A L U S
MAKE’S US HAPPY
MAKE’S US MORE COMPASSIONATE
MAKE’S US MORE LOVING
b u t
F I N D I N G O U T
is the absolute best ways to
E X P E R I E N C E I T . . . .
Is the W H O L E W O R L D
a Stage
or just
Y O U ?
There could be an argument made
either way. . .
but before the Tony Awards
are passed out
and you hit all of the
Congratulatory Parties
lets take a look at
T H A T
l i f e:
Sometimes it’s not the
multiple scenes
the various acts
the witty dialogue
the sensational
musical interludes
or even the much needed intermissions. . .
O F T E N
it’s those momentous
s o l i l o q u i e s
that take their direction
from the inner chambers of the
h e a r t
or even more intimately
the depths of the soul
that makes any ocean appear
s h a l l o w
Sometimes. . .
it’s a scene of a blank stage
narrowly shot
ON P U R P O S E
for effect to illustrate
just how much we block out the
p e r i p h e r y
where some of the best action
a c t u a l l y
takes place;
maybe after all–
we’re all wondering if what happens behind the scenes
is more important–
more interesting
than anything that takes place
front
and
c e n t e r;
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. . .
Quiet on the Set
The Spotlight is on
and it’s catching little dust particles
floating around in the air
while it seeks you out
front and center
to illuminate
that the best scenes
are those
yet to be acted. . .
but don’t discount all of the other previous
p a n o r a m a s
e a c h
have advanced the plot
for the most fantastic
A C T
of
N O W
Quiet on the Set. . .
R E A D Y :
A C T I O N
(NO DO-OVER’S)
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 )