I've been thinking a lot about the hurricane survivors. I've been thinking about how hard it is to start a new life.

I know that my life cannot be in any compared to their lives -- lives of upheaval, suffering and renewal. Yet I cannot help but think about the themes that run through all our lives, the themes of courage and the will to start again.

Mostly what I have are questions. Questions such as:

1 - Why do some people stay?
2 - Why do some people go?
3 - What attitudes keep people/us/me stuck in places that will never be the same again?
4 - What attitudes allow people/us/me to move forward with lives after all has been lost?
5 - Why do some people insist on trying to recreate that which can never be again?
6 - What kind of loss is there in standing and fighting? What is gained?
7 - What kind of losses are there in moving into a life that is new?

I watched the Truman Show over the weekend and I think this movie has a lot to say about recreating one's life. At some point we each have our own limit that we must move on...but how do you do that? What is the cost? What is to be gained? Each of these questions must be answered individually, they cannot be answered en masse.

I read this quote today from "Fearless Creating" and it seems to fit these questions:

"Not many men are prepared to face the challenge of themselves, to assume the full responsibility for thier own existence. Rank concluded that there were three levels or styles of response to this self-challenge;

the first, and most common, was simply to evade it;
the second was to make the effort of self-encounter, only to fall back in confusion and defeat (the person arrested in his creative development this way Rank called the 'artist-manque');

the third, and much the least common, was that of carrying the confrontation through to self-acceptance and "new birth". These three attitudes or approaches correspond to Rank's three types o fhuman character: the "average" or adapted man, content to swim adjustively and irresponsibly with the tide; the "neutortic" type, discontented alike with civilization and hiimself; and the "creative", the twice-born (as represented in the ideal types of Artist and Hero) -- at peace with himself and at one with others."

What is really illuminating to me is that in most christian literature the idea of "twice-born" is not at all a new concept, and yet it rarely has been connected to that of creativity. Go into many churches and what you see is bland uniformism. Creativity creates anxiety it seems in most of these places. And yet creativity, that of imagining and sustaining a new life is the most creative of all endeavors, yes?

Memoirs of a Writing Group Newbie

I arrived late, relieved to see there were fewer present than the week before. My newly put together "writing backpack" that has my journal, my laptop and all things writing. Kind of a writing costume, I guess, for this new part of the journey.

I tried to not show how intimidated I am, how strange it felt to be with others that just want to write and do it well. I thought of my essay, tucked into my bag, wondered when -- of if -- I'd get it out.

After writing exercises, which I finished early, a sure sign that I have no idea what I'm doing, I drew curly-ques in my margins, just so I'd look busy.

Then, time came for reading original work. In a moment of adrenaline rush, I volunteer, mostly just to get it over with.

I heard my voice and heard my words, which is wierd since most of writing is done in the interiors of the crevices of ones head. I felt sweaty, kind of sick, ready to go.

I finished and fidgeted a bit, having more quesiness in my stomach than I ever remembered. But I had done it.

Time for comments from the group. I looked at my feet, breathing heavy.

I remembered a few of their comments - mostly all kind and reassuring. But the real triumph is having the courage to create something and then share it. And have it received.

The Fickle Gardner

I stooped this morning with the late summer sun beating my back. In spite of my jug of tea, my mouth was dry, thirsty. I cursed the bermuda with its long zipper-like tendrils growing literally over my everygreen shrubs, hiding them, concealing them, draping them in its green arms.

At spring break, I was out here toting hoes and garden tools ready to embark on this new journey. My plans were clear, my faith secure, my heart open to the beauty that would soon be mine. As I went about my work, I marveled at the spring miracles and each new leaf, each new bud was a thing to be celebrated.

Now, after weeks of sapping 100 degree heat, I look at my garden from the cool of my porch and say, "Maybe tomorrow I'll go into the garden."

It's not that I don't love my garden. It's just that it hasn't quite realized my original expectations for it. The weeds,particularly the bermuda grass, continue to plague me. Each day I have weeded only to see more weeds the next day. Did I miss some warning in a garden magazine: NOTE: Weeding bermuda actually creates more bermuda. Forget your high-minded ecology. Just spray the stuff and be done with it.

There exist big gaping holes in my garden border where I thought there would be color. I understand now where I should have planted a shrub and should not have. The pavers that I worked so hard to level now appear as if a small earthquake has shaken them from their original space. Moles have feasted on the grubs and have made my clean-lined path look like something from a Dr. Seuss book, all lopsided and topsy-turvy.

I lamented the holes from some unknown pest that has devoured my sweet potatoe plants. I languished at the sight of my pond, scummy and green. The bright left over blooms of my roses aren't as alluring as I picked off the spent blooms and brushed them under the plants.


Whereas before I jubilantly looked forward to each new day, the heat and the weeds and the bugs have taken their toll on my passion, made me cautious, stand offish. I don't drop by as much to see the objects of my affection. I don't bring it new friends or water it like I should.

Like a fickle lover, I dodge my responsibility, play coy.

I'm like the bride who, after the honeymoon, is upset to discover that her new husband would really rather watch ESPN than "The Notebook". What really did I expect? That my garden would have no weeds? That my roses wouldn't wilt from the Oklahoma heat? That my pond wouldn't need cleaning out after months of standing in the piercing sun?

Yesterday a friend gave me a copy of one of my favorite gardening magazines. I sadly took it and laid it on my table, next to my unwritten novel and the books I've been meaning to read. I leafed through it but had to put it down, the pain was too great. It was like reading a Harlequin after just filing for divorce.

Four years ago I began in earnest to create this illusion drawn from the pages of glossy photos that seduced me mind, body and soul. In the throes of such passion, I did not stop and think about watering requirements, drainage needs, sunlight hours. My heart was set on some eden-like moments, where I would walk through my lovely garden and point out the objects of my affection, like a boy at the prom with his beautiful date. It was all about appearances and ego.

Now, four years later and in the throes of a late summer heatwave, my daylillies need dividing, my grasses are a mess and my roses need deadheading. I wonder through this garden of mine like a lover betrayed. I'm jealous of its lackluster blooms. I'm weary from its incessant needs. How could it need this much work? Where is the beauty that I thought would be mine? Where is the joy that I first knew?

I have on my desk a photo of my garden from four years ago. In it, the water birch is tiny, hardly able to be seen. There is no pond and no pergola. No roses, no shrubs. Only a small
dark ribbon of fresh earth where my dreams warmed in the pale spring sun. The rose arbor stood tall, erect but bare. It is on days such as this that I pull out this photo, remembering those early days. Like a old woman remembering her wedding day, I know the rush of new love is now long gone, like the wind in the dustbowl. It was not meant to last and perhaps this is the most difficult of all the cosmic laws of love. That slightly crazy-love is like the cast on a broken arm, holding two pieces together until the right growth can bind them together never breaking in that same place, never letting go.

Thought for today

"If you don't work at your art because you feel like a beginner or because the work frustrates you, I would ask you to stop using those facts as excuses. If you believe that celebrated artists are not beginning for whom each new creative project is a trial, now is the time to reconsider. You will remain a beginner and find the work hard until you die: you need no longer feel sad about that. So will ever other artist: you no longer need envy them their supposed maturity or ease." -- Eric Maisel, from "Fearless Creating"

Blogging at Panera

Since Panera has free wi-fi, I've started hauling my laptop with me on appts and stopping at lunch time to write. I'm motivated to do that today after having some good interviews this weekend with some people that helped me fill in the gaps on some facts that I needed.

I had an opportunity to interivew some Tulsa Co. Sherriffs this weekend while going about some business. It was kind of a fluke, but since one of my novel characters is a narcotics officer I thought it might be good to interview a few, since I don't know any. I never really thought about it before -- I've never thought about what a sheriff does in his or her line of work. I've never thought too much at all about police work. So when I had some time to talk to a few of them on the Tulsa force, I found out a lot about the work of Sheriff's and narcotics officers. I also made that discovery that most writers must make and that is that my own life is so incredibly boring (in a good way, I guess) that I'm drawn to those whose lives are different than mine. I think that must be a quality of a good writer -- finding novelty in others lives that are different than their own.

I always feel like I have to somehow explain to those that I'm interviewing or researching in this process -- that yeah, I'm writing a novel but y'know, I'm not a REAL WRITER, I'm just learning how to write by writing...I don't know why I feel that I have to qualify myself like that, I guess I'm afraid that someone will think that I'm impersonating a great novelists or something, or worse that they believe that I BELIVE that.

What I'm finding is that most people aren't so impressed with the fact that I am writing but are very much impressed that I find them interesting enough to ask questions about what they do, what's an average day like, what do they like best, etc. Come to think of it, if someone asked ME those questions, I'd be kinda impressed too.

So here's my announcement to those that care -- I know I'm not all that in the writing world. I'm learning. I have so much to learn and yet the process is becoming more real to me every time I stay with the structure that I'm imposing on myself.

After cleaning out my office and making room - literally and figureatively -- I've also looked at my daily calendar and moved some "non-essential" (read: BORING) meetings off my calendar and started spending that focused time in writing. This is where the laptop and Panera come in handy...instead of traisping all the way back home, I just turn on the laptop, have lunch and do what I came to do.

Which today is blocking out chapters 4 and 5 of my great American Novel. I'm learning how to find a form that works for me at this point which is to write and when I get stuck somewhere, I start writing down the questions that I need to answer for that scene to take form and flourish. So my notes look pretty garbled but when I do that, it starts creating the characters and their actions.

The best writing advice that I've received so far is to "think like I'm watching a movie". In other words, if my story were a movie where would I start the action, where would the scene take place. This has been so helpful and yet it seems so obvious. THANKS JORDAN!

The advice also has helped me while watching movies to find ways that the writers may be moving their story forward. It has kind of made watching movies and TV shows a little less fun to watch, because now I start finding all this stuff that they (the writers) could do and not do to better the story. Not surprisingly, I find is that the best written stuff allows the viewer to get past the mechanics of the story and become more involved in the story itself.

So, onto chapters 4 and 5.

100 Great Movie Quotes

I spent late last night recovering from a long day at a vendor show. I could blog on this subject for an eternity -- the times I've done shows like this, how to do it, what NOT to do. Yeah, maybe that would be a good topic to discuss.

I arrived home late and was looking for something to help me wind down. Bravo (www.bravotv.com) had the perfect solution - 100 Great Movie quotes

AFI: 100 Years...100 Movie Quotes.

From DeNiro's "You talkin' to me?" to Hepburn's "You do know how to whistle don't you..."
there are a million quotes that we toss around that come directly from the movies. Funny thing, though, of all the quotes the most quotes came from one movie, "Casablanca" which is why it is sometimes called the best written movie of all time (I could disagree on a million points but I'll save that, too, for another blog time).

The thing I found interesting is that so many of the quotes that we "remember" weren't in the movies at all. Or they weren't in the movies as we remember them. Example, "Play it Again, Sam" is actually, "Play it Again, will you Sam?" or something like that. And yet some of the original "quotes" are burned into the American psyche and we remember them a certain way -- a way in which they were never said.

I loved this walk through the movies and enjoyed especially the comments made by some of my favortie actors and actresses. I spend Sundays writing, reading and watching movies - its become a new kind of religious experience for me. Which is interesting, because so many of the best movies deal with themes that often are associated with "religion" - redemption, salvation, evil and good.

I'm off to see "An Unfinished Life" and I'll share my thoughts on this movie later.

What passes for normalcy...

Seems we're back to almost normal now. The headlines are less about Katrina and more about Britny. Even some of the lesser riske stars are getting some press.

I sometimes wonder what we really mean when we talk about something that is "lifechanging". It seems that I find a way back into my rut quick and easily even though major things have happened. Seismic shifts have taken place and I too quickly yawn and want to flip the channel.

While there is a sense of resiliency in the fact that we can bounce back, it kind of chills me too, that we can so easily become absorbed in trivialities. As if the "new" has worn off and we are looking for the next big "thing" to submerge ourselves in.

I tried to watch the hearings of Judge Roberts but in all honestly, I just wanted some good mud-slinging. I kept hoping that the "unflappable" Roberts would stand up and say to Senator Kennedy, "Nonya beeswax you Boston Bean". Since he kept his cool and didn't say too much of anything, it quickly became academic and I moved onto other more important things to watch, like the 92689 episode of "Law and Order". I think I sometimes feel more affection for the characters on the show than people I really know.

Why I love Jon Stewart

Jon Stewart embodies the very reason that comedy is essential...he can make you laugh when there is so much to think about and ponder about. His antics on his "Daily Show" are a great night cap for me, forcing me to make sure I'm in front of my TV at 10 PM just so I can see who he is making fun of on a particular night. I'd like to meet him sometime but I'd be afraid to -- for fear that I'd end up as the punchline in a fake news segment.

Tonight Lewis Black is making fun of evolution...it seems to be the theme the entire show is hitting on this week. I'll save my comments on what I believe but I have to say, even if I don't agree with the politics, I am always laughing -- which is the genius of the show. You can laugh at yourself and your own politics which keeps one from taking anything too seriously. always a good thing in today's political climate.

The other reason I love the show is because the writing is well done. Which I think is what also makes comedy "comedy". Timing, well thought out lines is writing at its very best. If its funny, it's probably well written. At least that's my opinion.

Redemption

Working through some details of a the "Creativity Book" by Eric Maisel, I am finding some interesting fodder for my current project. OK, I'm going to go ahead and say it, my current creative project -- (aren't all projects somewhat creative? I dunno.) My novel.

There, I said, it. Ta dah.

Why is so hard to say that? I've wanted to be a writer for as long as I remember breathing. And yet, taking that simple step, simply saying that seems huge to me. So let me try it again.

(Breathe).

I'm writing a novel.

There. I said it again. Double ta dah.

Actually, it might be closer to the truth to say that I'm learning to write a novel, something that I've spent a good part of my life wondering how to do. I often would get to the end of a great read and think, "how do they do that? how did they put all those ideas, all those thouhts together and come up with this story?"

As it turns out, that is the great mystery, the thing called "process" to those in the know about writing. Which is why books like Maisel's are so great..they teach you ideas on how to do the creating.

One of the exercises asked, "what word would best describe your current creative project? find it and post it on your whiteboard and use it for inspiration". Words do create energy (hence the recent debate in the media -- refugees vs. evacuees) so posting a word on a whiteboard seems innocent enough until you start playing with words and shuffling them through. Words like "create" have a different essence to them than words like "abandonment". Words create energy.

The first word in describing my current "project" that I stumbled upon is the word "redemption". Which leads me to a lot of questions, questions that are good to ask. Like what is redemption, really? Is it the same as forgiveness? And what, really, is forgiveness? Is it selective remembering? Or not remembering? Or is it forgetting?

Having been raised in a fundamentalist religious environement, I am poorly prepared to address such questions. Ask me where a bible verse is found or who was the fattest king in Israel or what is the name of the place where Jacob wrestled with God -- I can go on all day. But ask me to talk about the sutff that really matters -- the stuff like forgiveness, redemption and all that such truck, and I'm as blind as they come.

Which is why this theme seems so important to me. Hey, by the time you've reach 40 plus, you're probably in need of a little redemption and a whole lot of forgiveness. And if you're not in need, then you probably need to give it a little, which brings up a whole 'nuther ball of wax...if you can't receive it, you probably can't give and on and on we go.

Whether my novel ever sees the light of day or not, these are the kinds of questions that I find fascinating and that I hope to write more about.

Blame it all on "Law and Order"

It's Monday afternoon. There's a pile of papers in my in-box. And there's a smaller pile in my "out box". And there's an entire checklist on my datebook, that may well stay "unchecked".

For the obsessive compulsive executive, that's as close to a suicide statement as any...leaving unchecked things on a checklist...what?

Sometimes, it just seems that no matter how hard you want to work, the things that distract you are the simplest...a not-too-hot-for-a-change Monday afternoon, a book that's half-read and my personal favorite, spending hours on the "Law and Order" web site. What is it about that show that has me so hooked?

I still have a long way to go before this day is over but something about 4 PM pulls out in me the worst...I get bull-headed (more so than usual, thanks) and outright possessive of my hour and a half that I can sit here and do next-to-nothing and call it "working".

It doesn't matter how much I try to plan my day, 4 PM signals in me the end of the "first half" of the day and the start of the "second half" -- the half that I must feed my family, get afternoon rituals (kids to work, practice, etc) and oh yea, finish out whatever wasn't accomplished during the first half of my day...which today is, not surprisingly from this blog entry, close to nothing.

I am amazingly creative at avoiding work. I can make lists with the best of them. I can plan all sorts of activities in the act of organization. In reality I am creating nothing except a way to stall, a way to plod, a way to self-sabotage on things that truly, truly need my attention.

A seminar to plan that is less than amonth a way.
A class tonight that I'm in no way prepared for.
Appointments tomorrow that I can't even begin to imagine how I'll get it done.

What it boils down to is simply this - procrastination is fear incarnate. Fear of ______ you fill it in -- but whatever it is -- fear of moving forward, fear of checking things off a list, fear of getting something done and finding that it wasn't that hard, and oh, after all, there's 20 more just like that to do...

Fear, pure and simple, is at the base of all the distractions, sidebars, excursions and second lattes.

As much as I don't want to admit it, I'm simply afraid of not knowing where the next lead is going to come from, the next idea, the next inspiration. I find the more that I plod around on cop drama web sites, the more I can hide behind insipid "information" about who is getting married, who is vacationing in the Carribbean and who is planning to be the next guest star.

Diversions as they go, are simply meant to keep us from tackling the big work that is calling to us from those in-boxes, work that when faced probably can tell us a lot more about ourselves than most psychiatry appointments, work that can keep us focused and balanced and all those things that we say - I say -- I want for my life.

Then again, an hour to simply veg may help the synapsis in my brain start firing in all the right ways so that I can be perfectly brilliant at tonight's class, more than prepared for tomorrow's appts and maybe even excited about the new inspiration that starts to creep out at me from around the edges of my work-fried brain.

Creative mantras for everyday use

I'm still enjoying the book, "The Creativity Book". Here's an excerpt from today's reading, which include some phrases that can be used as everyday mantras or affirmations:

"It's all right not to know"
"I can enter the chaos and create there"
"I am prepared to work blind"
"I can move forward without a destination"
"What I need is inside the darkness"
"I would love things to be easy, but I prefer truthfulness"
"To create, I must embrace bewilderment"

from p 113 "The Creativity Book" by Eric Maisel, Ph. D.

Taking inspiration

While listening to the radio today, I heard stories of people in the Gulf Coast region that are determined to rebuild their jobs, their homes, their lives.

At first I scoffed at this. And then, I took inspiration from it.

This is not to say that I understand, really, on any level what the people in that region are going through. My life has had its share of disappointments but I've never had my entire home, job, life taken from me. So these comments aren't in any way meant to minimize the pain of those who are rebuilding lives.

But who among us has not had something that was once precious to us that was then taken or destroyed? And, (and this is where I take inspiration) many times, I just give up. Say, "it's too hard" or "it'll never be the same..".

And both statements are more than true. Rebuilding is hard and it will never the be same. That is hardly the point.

What is the point? The point is, I think, hope.

It is uncanny that over the weekend - a weekend filled with so little hope from the Gulf States, that I saw my favorite movie of all time, "Shawshank Redemption" -- a movie that portrays hope in such a way that every time I see it, I cry. And my favorite moment? That would be when Tim Robbins' character says, "The way I see it, you either get busy living or you get busy dying."

When I remember those lines -- and see the courageous people that are doing just that -- living, that is, -- I am challenged to look at my own life, at my own failings, at my own disappointments. Some things can never be repaired, it's true. And some things can be rebuilt more beautiful and with more soul than ever before.

Sunset on the summer

I sat in my pergola tonight until dusk, reading a book after weeding (always weeding!). I spent the weekend, and I do mean SPENT. I did next to nothing except rumble around in my head, reading, writing, organizing my office, making plans for some new renovations for the house and garden.

Dan kidnapped me late today and we say the "Constant Gardner"...and I took a chance and posted my review at my favorite movie web site -- it was accepted (I'm not sure if this is a big deal or not, but it always feels good to get an "acceptance" something!) Here it is if you'd like to read it -- http://imdb.com/title/tt0387131/usercomments-78

I went to library and checked out two more of Joyce Carol Oates books, "Tatooed Girl" and "Broke Heart Blues". Both appear promising in only the way that Joyce Carol Oates can be.

I am also reading "The Creativity Book" by Eric Maisal and am finding it a great way to start my day. Actually, I am finding after I walk, eat, I come right to my office and read then write for about an hour before starting my "real" work day.

My office is more appealing to me now than ever before. I have arranged all my writing books, gardening books in one place in my office so now they are a part of my work routine as everything else. I also invested in a new white board which has some key work routines on it along with the 30 chapter outline of (dare I say this...my novel). My goal is to write each week on one chapter and then go back and start the endless rewriting and refining.

This has completely jazzed me...and I'm looking forward to a creative fall.

To my friends at CNN

For 25 years, you have been the eye on the world. You have reported everything from assinations, to massacres. From famines to celebrity. From new found fame to classic wealth.

For most of that time, I've been a faithful friend, enjoying our moments together, often turning to you when I felt I needed comfort or information.

I feel, today, that you have failed me. As I turned off the coverage of the hurricane (finally!) I shook my head in disbelief. Why would you do this?

Why would you exploit the men and women of the New Orleans/Missippi region for your own gain and political agenda? Why would you use this opportunity to create more unrest in an already battered place?

Somewhere along the line, we have to start asking the question, "What is opinion and what is fact?" Somewhere along the line we have to start being critical thinkers again and get on with what is important -- which is providing healing to those who suffered this tragedy and those who have sat somewhat helplessly by.

Here's my question: What could possibly be the motivation of our government to keep aid from the people of New Orleans and Missippi? Isn't that what a good criminal lawyer would ask if he were trying a case? It seems to me that we have already issued the indictment without even so much as a public hearing.

I was encouraged by the interview with a mega-church minister, himself black, who was asked to comment on the comments made by Kanye West. This "interview" was so leading (the corresopndant kept asking questions such as "Aren't you mad it took so long.." and the man being interviewed said, "Yes, I'm furious. But I'm not so mad that I'm going to jump to accusations and assumptions until I find out what went wrong. Something surely went wrong, but we don't know yet where the system failed and that's not the point. The point is to get these people out and to get them help."

Between Christian Amanpour and Anderson Cooper's "coverage", good critical thinking and judgement have gone out the window. They appear to be more interested in laying blame than in being creative on helping discover where the system needs to be repaired. Their logic appears to be, "We have a white president and these people are black, so it must be his fault."

I personally have a lot more questions about the state government of New Orleans than I do of the federal government. Where were you when your state needed you? Where were your evacuation systems and relief systems? If the state -- the first line of defense in any tragedy -- gives way, then mobilizing a federal relief aid is logically the next.

How many times have we had a chance to prepare for such a crisis? How many times have the systems used been put to the test for survival? How many times have we dealt with the reality of problems of this magnitude...and here's the big question, "now that we see the defects, how do we fix them?"

And again, the question, "What and who would gain by ignoring people at a time like this?" What agenda would be served? Whose career (except those of the resporters) is being helped by such thinking?

Are there clearly mistakes that have been made? Surely. What I find amazing is that we're not asking the question, "how did anyone survive at all?" Given that we have not one, but possibly three tragedies of nature, how did those who survive do so?

I find the reporting that your correspondants are doing, CNN, to be sloppy and self-serving at a time when we have neither the patience or time for either.

The Creativity Book

It's raining here today. I am torn between starting a new gardening project, or cleaning out my closet.

Both, according to this great little book, both are creative, spiritual endeavors.

I've learned something this past year -- that as long as I focus on what some might call "the creative life" things in my life appear to move along intrinsically, organically. Things just seem to flow and are easier.

This book, by Eric Maisel, Ph.d, is a series of ideas and suggestions to direct some in their creative urges, whether that be solving company staffing, world hunger or writing a novel.

Towards that end, I spent yesterday in my office doing some massive cleaning out while at the same time freeing up some space for the creative part of my life -- writing and gardening. Where there once was scattered papers and unused space, my collection of books on writing and gardening now sit. I've taken some pictures that I may post, may not.

What came later, though, was truly inspiring. The act itself gave me room to breathe and therefor I sat down and wrote several pages on simple office organization -- something that I'm good at doing anyway, but never had "gotten around to" putting my ideas on paper. This may be used later for training or sharing with others. I find that most professionals suffer from mismanagment of two things -- time and money. And it is precisely those two things that we want to understand better because the "how we invest or spend" these things can tell us a lot about ourselves.

Why do I spend the first part of my day doing this rather than that? Is that congruent with my declared values and goals? Why or why not? These are tough questions, not for sissies.

Truth is, making room for the things in your life that matter can be convicting. Do I keep my never-listened-to collection of Dan Fogerty tapes out of nostalgia or do I make room for that book on better senetence construction? Which one is more a part of my life NOW and which is just a testimony to a life lived in high school? And why is it so *^&( hard to let go of those things that I know -- I know -- I won't use today, tomorrow or in 6 months.

There is a spiritual element going on here, no doubt. A sense of cleaning out one's life to make room for the new. Truth be told, the "ramp" to this place has been filled with a lot of tilling of spiritual soil to get me to even look realistically at the cluttered part of my life (metaphorically and literally speaking).

I'm learning to limit spirituality to things that go on in church building or doing one's "quiet time" is to limit a holy foce that can wreck spiritual havoc (cleansing) in my life. If God isn't a part of order from chaos, peace from fear, calm from anxiety, then I don't know really what He or She may be a part of.

For me, God is in the details -- the order on my desk, the cleanness of my closet, the whisper of comfort.

Thoughts from a CNN Hostage

I feel that I need a big sign, "HELP ME" as I sit in front of the endless interviews.
The unfolding disaster of Hurricane Katrina has transfixed me and I've been at times
amazed, saddened, horrified and angry.

Amazed that an entire city can be gone in a matter of minutes. As helicopters drop 3,000 pound sand bags by broken levy, I can't help but think that these look like croutons dropped into a soup bowl.

Saddened that lives are gone for too much water and for not enough.

Horrified that a place I visited as early as January (I walked from the convention center to my hotel, eating at Emeril's and visiting the Southern Art museum) is now completely gone.

But I am angry that some would believe that because they are black or poor that they are being neglected or ignored based upon the facts that they are "not white or rich". I find that accusation mean-spirited and lacking in reason. Which is fine -- I wouldn't be reasonable if I hadn't eaten for five days.

The idea that government on any level -- local, state or federal -- can be the end all for people in times such as this is simply unrealistic.

For all the strategic planning, for all the programs, meetings and official people cannot legisilate human kindness, caring, love, hope.

What I find reassuring is where government, the cold, sometimes heartless entity, may have failed it has given opportunity for the human touch -- the soul of any city -- to rally.

Disasters of this magnitude cannot be fixed, strategized, made right by the likes of military and programs. It can only be cushioned by those who have the willingness and the boldness to venture forward.

"I am not in need" --- Carbonleaf

I awakened with the days usual thoughts -- what would we have for dinner tonight? What times would the kids' practices be over? How many phone messages need to be returned and how will I get them done? How can I get the house cleaned?

Ad infinitum, a magnifying glass on the trivialities of my life.

My house isn't under water, so what if it is dirty? My cell phone works as does my home phone. Clean water flows from my plumbing, I have a shower that works. There are 3 grocery stores within a five mile radius of my home, not to mention a squillion eating establishments, so eating is clearly not a problem.

Most importantly, I am not in a hospital sick and I can work and provide for my family.

As my favorite rock band says, "I am not in need.." I clearly am not. Isn't it strange how I lose sight of such simple, everyday blessings.

I am working on some ideas to donate to charities for the hurricane relief effort. www.networkforgood.org through my own sales.

Adrenaline Junkies Unite

It's the proverbial "month end", which in the sales industry means that we're all huddled over laptops, with phones in ear, reaching for that elusive scoreboard that will confirm our commission checks.

After 13 years, I am now firmly a recovering adrenaline junkie. I have ceased to find my "hit" by waiting until the last minute to try to work one month of effort into a 3 hour, no sleep, nail-biting day.

My recovery has had moments worthy of any addict who goes "off the wagon". The sleepless nights, the anxiety, the worry. All those things that give the appearance of importance dissolve into the meaningless abyss once you figure out that you don't have to live by the clock. You don't have to give your soul to chasing numbers and figures. In fact, when you do, you cease to exist in any measureable way and you lose whatever ground you've fought so hard to find.

The funny thing is, that once you realize that your life isn't about the scoreboard any more (and in reality, never was) you begin to loosen up and actually enjoy what you are doing. It's one of those life ironies -- the more you loosen up, the more you do better.

For me personally, I've discovered that I can keep a workable (translation -- functional) schedule, doling out my activity in bite size pieces and actually enjoy my work and the people in which I lead.

There's a lot more I can say about this but as any recovering junkie I'm still learning how to much to show, how much to tell. Since trust is a big issue for many of us, whatever "trash" we're into, I'm learning how much I can safely say. As with any dependency, just admitting that you're hooked is more than half the battle. For me, I was hooked on the sense that I was actually doing something, when in reality I was procrastinating, doing sloppy, careless work, all for the rush of going into motion and doing a yeoman's work in a matter of hours.

It's not been an easy recovery. Is any recovery easy? I find myself in my daily walks (for now, I have a daily schedule that includes walking (alone), eating (oh my gosh!) and spending time with those that I care about and actually seeing them sitting in front of me, instead of the haze of my ragged agenda floating somewhere in the bubble above my head.

For what is this journey to recovery anyway than simply trying to find significance. For the adrenaline junkie, it's the significant in doing..."if I can just do ____" then surely I will find (security, relationships, meaning). It's the constant doing, doing, doing until the fire slowly ebbs out of you, frying your brain, your life, your very soul.

I don't anticipate an easy road ahead. There's always the illusion of adding heaps of stuff to my schedule in the anticipation of getting more of "whatever" it is that I think that will be accomplished.

Now, accomplishing nothing is the greatest feeling of all.

New Orleans

I've been to New Orleans too many times. I was there in January of this year in fact. As I watch the footage on CNN I see some of the places where I've stayed and visited and it makes the disaster a bit more personal.

Some pundits are predicting, now with the levy breaking, that New Orleans will be something we study about in history classes. Some are blaming the erosion of the "wetlands", some are blaming the president. Seems everybody has a comment.

I don't have my profundity to share. Just the realization that my life is suddenly less complicated when I see the families who have lost everything. I wonder what I can do -- besides some hallowed prayer -- for those that have lost so much.

Moments of Reassurance

I remember working until 2 a.m. once, stuffing envelopes getting ready for this event. I remember wondering how many people would even come. The event went off OK, but lots to improve and do. And I remember doing it again and again and again, constantly trying to improve it, seeing small progresses then steps back. Over and over and over again.

Today, 4 years later, I went to that event, the one that was literally birthed at my dining room table those years ago. And I saw 350 people and an event that quite literally has a life all its own. Most importantly, I attended that event and simply did that -- just attended. The event, the project, ran on its own steam with other very capable people being charged with its care. It is, alive and well and doing better than ever.

Its gratifying in those moments to stop and remember, even when no one else may recall, how something may have started. Just an idea that became energy and then motion, involving others and becoming real.

It made me stop and think -- how many current projects do I often wonder, "will this EVER get done?" Will I ever see success in this endeavor? Will it ever be finished?"

Today, I saw a glimpse, a hope. I heard a whisper that reminded me, "just keep going."
It confirms my suspicion that all great endeavors begin as a flash, first in the mind then in reality.

Or maybe, creating in the mind is the reality. Whatever the case, it was great to see something and to know deep inside, there is a part of me in this thing and a part of it in me. For me the definition of a true leader is how well things go when they are not around.

Today, that was very, very good to see.