The Oxygen Mask

It’s perhaps the most famous safety announcement of all time - “Put on your own oxygen mask first.” It’s also a widely used metaphor for what to do in a crisis.

Here in the land of individualism and meritocracy, we Americans tend to take this metaphor to heart; at least the first part of the statement. Generally speaking, our interpretation seems to be “me first.” Full stop.

Regardless of the carrier you fly, the oxygen mask announcement essentially states: “Please place the mask over your own mouth and nose first, before assisting others.” The gist is, “If you can’t breathe, you’re of little use in helping your child, loved one, or fellow passenger.” But the message is not akin to simply stating, “save yourself.”

The implication is clear: In case of emergency, once you’re breathing correctly, your next responsibility is to help anyone else in need. Yes, save yourself, then get busy saving others.

Many of us talk about the “taking care our ourselves first” part, but we’re not always as comfortable with the assisting others part. If you’re a parent or travel with family members that may require help, you likely think about this safety instruction differently. But the reality is, no matter who we are, we are all ultimately on the journey together.

The homeless, the addicted, the conspiracy theorist , the immigrant (legal or otherwise), and even the privileged among us - they are all fellow passengers and helping them get “oxygen” is our moral responsibility.

One of the infamous statements of last year’s protest movement is, “I can’t breathe.” These three words have become a rallying cry and if you look closely, there are many among us who are also saying this sentiment in some way, shape, or form.

The homeless person is essentially saying, “I can no longer stand on my own two feet.” The addicted individual is really saying, “I am traumatized and will do anything to escape.” The jobless and economically disadvantaged are basically saying, “I can barely keep my head above water.” Those that have suffered abuse, neglect, and racism are in effect saying, “I am wounded and devastated.” Even some prosperous individuals can feel so disconnected at times they feel “homeless.” In essence, many of the poor, deprived, oppressed, and brokenhearted among us cannot breathe - in some cases, literally.

I don’t know what it’s like to be homeless or the victim of racism. I’ve never been destitute, incarcerated, or addicted to an illicit substance. But I do know what it’s like to have a broken heart. I can tell you first hand, having your heart shattered feels a lot like not being able to breathe. In that way I can relate.

If we’re willing, most of us can relate to heartbreak, shame, or trauma and once you can relate to and empathize with others, it’s easier to breathe. As the adage goes, once we’re breathing properly, we can start assisting those that are having difficulty doing so on their own.

We are increasingly a divided society and many seem to only want to help those that think, look, or vote like they do. This is seen in our political discourse where some decry “America first” while others seek to “cancel” those that don’t follow their rules, have a different opinion, or have made a past mistake.

It’s understandable that when we feel threatened, we look to protect our own. But such thinking is also short-sided and outdated in the construct of the world we now inhabit. If climate change, the COVID-19 virus, the new information age, and global economy teaches us anything, these issues tell us that ultimately, there are no real borders. In a global crisis, there is no us and them. In a true emergency, there are no democrats and republicans, rich and poor, or woke individuals and canceled.

I have a friend who uses the hashtag #humanityfirst (thanks for the idea Matt) in many of his posts. He’s right. No one really comes first, humanity does. We are all on this mother ship earth together. We are all fellow passengers and we must stop patronizing, demonizing, and hating the “other” side. The real moral dilemma of our time is when so many of our fellow passengers are suffering and lacking oxygen, what are we doing about it?

I’m sure there are some who are looking at me and saying, ‘that’s a cute little metaphor Eric, but c’mon, it’s a little naive don’t you think?’

No, I don’t. I fundamentally believe that love is the answer and that love doesn’t stop at your front door, neighborhood boundary, prison walls, or national borders. We need to support our neighbors, educate criminals, help the addicted and homeless, and even, dare I say, love our enemies (I read that somewhere).

For those who aren’t spiritually minded please forgive the analogy, but the oxygen mask metaphor also parallels another famous human survival rule – “love your neighbor as yourself.” Have we really stopped lately to think which neighbors? I’m not a theologian, but I am pretty sure the “Golden Rule” refers to ALL of our neighbors. But from my view, much of our current attitude goes something like this: My needs first, then my family, community, and country (or at least the half of the country that agrees with me).

Many feel like the ship is sinking or the plane is losing oxygen at this moment. The state of the country, health of the planet, and the constitution of our collective character all seem to be in a perilous and precarious condition. It’s hard to disagree with this assessment. Things do appear to be drastic and urgent and if the oxygen mask hasn’t dropped for you yet, my guess is it will sooner or later. But if you look closely, the remedy is right there in the airline safety announcement.

Step one. Put on your mask. Love. Forgive. Express gratitude and humility. Breathe.

Step two: Help your neighbor do the same.

The Other Pandemic

When I was 23, I had reconstructive surgery on my eardrum. My right ear had plagued me since I was a kid, but in my early twenties, it had started oozing puss for months on end. It turned out that I had a large benign cyst that needed to be surgically removed.

After surgery, as I recovered in my hospital room, the nurse naturally asked me how I was feeling. Having just had the back of my ear sliced open, my head felt like someone had just hit me with a bat.

I was given an IV drip of Demerol and was instantly and completely pain free. I felt a sensation like I was floating above the covers of my hospital bed like Sigourney Weaver’s character in Ghostbusters. The drug gave me immediate relief from the most severe physical pain imaginable.

The doctors had prescribed me a drug that is similar to Morphine or Oxycodone. On the street, these forms of opioids can be hard to come by and are frequently replaced by a more accessible drug; Heroin. Whatever form, the desired chemical effect is the same — immediate relief from significant pain.

After taking opioids in the hospital I thought, “why on earth would someone choose to take these drugs intentionally or recreationally?” This question is commonly answered with having ‘character weakness’ or the ‘wrong genes.’

Defining substance abuse as a moral flaw or genetic defect makes many of us feel we are not vulnerable to the hazards of illicit drug use or other types of addiction. Such black and white thinking also makes us feel there is a tangible, straightforward strategy in combating drug abuse. Hence the “war” on drugs. In turn, we’ve fought a 50-year war with the intention of getting rid of drugs, dealers, and users to no avail. At the same time, we’ve had a massive influx of legal drugs, which are heavily promoted in every facet of our media landscape.

Make no mistake, drug dependency can have horrific consequences from the devastating destruction of families to the tragic loss of human life. But what if blaming drugs, users, and even sellers is flawed logic? What if this is an us problem, not a them problem? What if the truth of the matter is we’re all one bad break away from insurmountable pain and therefore the possibility of addiction?

The reality is addiction can happen to anyone because escapism is a natural human response to chronic pain and trauma. Drugs, alcohol, and even food don’t discriminate - Rehab centers and 12-step support groups are filled with every walk of life from the rich and poor to the black and white. As author, comedian, and former addict Russell Brand says, “We are all on the addiction scale.”

Susceptibility to drug/alcohol abuse or other types of addiction (sugar, pornography, social media) is kind of like cancer. Some may be more genetically predisposed, but we all carry cancerous cells and anyone can develop cancer. A surgeon I know once commented to me, “if we lived long enough, every single person would eventually get cancer.”

Is it possible that similarly, if we live long enough, we all might struggle with addiction at some point? Given the statistics of obesity, drug overdose, alcoholism, gambling, and even screen time usage, such a conclusion seems feasible if not likely.

Why is this distinction relevant and important? Because when we allow for the capacity of relating to addicts instead of demonizing them, it creates space for empathy, our most powerful problem-solving tool.

‘We’re all in this together’ has worked throughout the course of history. But ‘You’re the problem’ seldom works (see the colossal failures that are the wars on drugs, fat, prohibition and even our current political construct). Characterizing addicts as weak, criminal, and/or genetically flawed has done nothing to solve the epidemic of drug use. In fact, fighting a war on drugs and blaming users has only massively exacerbated the problem.

Studies have shown that the majority of drug use is highly correlated to those who have suffered significant trauma (especially in childhood). To answer the question I asked of myself back when l had ear surgery — “Why do people abuse drugs?” Many take drugs habitually, eat impulsively, and drink chronically to escape severe emotional and/or physical pain. Period.

I’ve had my heart broken and I’ve had my head sliced open in surgery. But surgery and break ups are normal human occurrences, which can create challenging, but temporary circumstances. In the wake of such events, one may medicate for a while, but the equilibrium of life tends to normalize again.

But what happens in abnormal and extreme life circumstances? For instance, the experience of abuse, combat, abandonment, incarceration, chronic unemployment, or severe/permanent injury. This type of trauma is what researchers are talking about when it comes to the “pain” that causes drug abuse. Says Russell Brand, “The reason I became a drug addict is because it was too painful not to.”

Especially now, more and more of us can relate to this pain. Recent studies show that the stresses of the COVID-19 pandemic has magnified an already skyrocketing epidemic of drug and alcohol abuse. In fact drug overdose deaths are now the highest ever on record. But drugs and alcohol are not the causes of our ailments; they are merely symptoms. The real elephant in the room is deep-rooted psychological and societal PAIN — trauma, joblessness, abuse, PTSD, racism, and economic inequality. Every day, jobs are being eliminated, people become homeless, and families are devastated — That is pain.

We must wage a new war on the real causes of addiction. We need to start by asking the right question(s). As renowned addiction expert Dr. Gabor Maté states, “The question is not why the addiction, but why the pain.” We must address systemic pain through community, faith and family-based efforts including support groups, job retraining programs, and drug/alcohol/food abuse treatment centers. We need to give every addict access to treatment if they want to get well. Instead of just holding addicts and criminals accountable, we also need to hold corporations accountable that aggressively promote “legal” addiction.

Addiction and despair is everywhere you look. Consider that since 2000 the opioid epidemic has resulted in over 400,000 American deaths. Author Johann Hari says, “A sense of dislocation has been spreading through our societies like a bone cancer throughout the twentieth century. We all feel it: we have become richer, but less connected to one another…we are increasingly alone, so we are increasingly addicted.”

If we are going to have a serious dialogue in our society about addiction and drug/alcohol abuse, we have to start with seeing addicts as wounded humans instead of selfish individuals or criminals. Just like when I was holed up in a hospital after surgery, addicts simply want their pain to go away. We must help the addicted fight their pain by creating economic opportunity and authentic community. Now more than ever it’s essential that we seek to love and understand those that are struggling.

Greener Grass

In 2017 my wife and I moved from Denver to Vail, Colorado. It had long been a dream of ours to live in a mountain town and after calling Denver home for five years, we found new jobs, made the big move, and made our dream a reality.

In my previous life, metropolitan living always appealed to me with the organic sense of energy, culture, and diversity that residing in a city can provide. But in recent years, urban life has also become more problematic. Some of the cities I have called home for years (Portland, Seattle, San Diego, and Denver) have become rampant with homelessness, drug use, crime, traffic, and a skyrocketing cost of living. There’s also the seeming ineptness of many city governments to address these issues.

Just blocks from where we lived in downtown Denver, there were masses of tents set up on city sidewalks surrounded by garbage and filth. We commonly witnessed aggressive panhandling, scenes of horrific drug abuse, and abject poverty. A few years ago on her morning walk to work, my wife came across a homeless man masturbating in front of her. The summer before we left Denver, I witnessed a woman in her underwear leaning up against our building with a needle still sticking out of her arm. And that was city life before 2020. It was time to get out of Dodge.

Many of our great cities have been in crisis in recent years, but now cities have also been particularly hit by the current global pandemic (not to mention mass demonstrations and civil unrest). Especially given that many people can now work remotely, living in a community like mine seems like a no-brainer.

Fleeing the problems of city life wasn’t the impetus for our move to the mountains, but it certainly was a factor. When I walk in my neighborhood now, instead of homelessness, piled up garbage, and discarded needles, I’m surrounded by the serenity of vast forests and clean mountain air. Our new home isn’t immune from problems, but I must admit Vail has been a pretty nice place to ride out 2020.

My personal greener grass narrative is not a unique story. Especially this year, people have been flocking to communities like mine in droves. In some cases they are literally showing up with suitcases of cash to make their escape plans a reality. Protecting your family and moving to higher ground or a safer address seem like prudent solutions, but recently I have started questioning if “getting out of Dodge” really solves anything.

Most don’t have the option of just leaving their jobs and communities or the means of simply picking up and moving to a place like Vail. I’ve also learned many times in life that the grass isn’t always greener as the old adage states. Speaking from personal experience, a change of address won’t protect you from past mistakes, inoculate you from future set backs, or heal a broken heart.

Living in Vail also won’t insulate you from inequality, drug and alcohol abuse, and homelessness. Living in the mountains won’t protect you from COVID or even civil unrest. In fact, with a one-dimensional economy based on tourism, the immense cost of living, and the massive divide between have and have not’s, life in Vail is potentially just as precarious as it is in urban San Francisco or New York.

The fact of the matter is our whole society is ailing, not just certain geographic locations. While parts of our country do seem sicker than others, moving won’t help change the spread of the deadly diseases we’re facing.

The pandemic we’ve been living with this past year is obviously a disease. But so are the addictions of social media, gambling, and pornography that have been steadily rising in recent years. So are the drug and alcohol epidemics that have been raging for the past 20 years. So is the obesity epidemic that has been growing for the past 30 years. So are disparities of wealth, wage stagnation, corporate greed, and a system that favors the powerful that has been growing for the past 40 years. So are the abhorrent qualities of racism and narcissism that have been part culture for hundreds of years.

These are sicknesses that we have collectively perpetuated and we are all ultimately responsible for addressing them. These cancerous problems are growing everywhere, and it’s going to take all of us to solve them. Just blaming the “other side” solves nothing and frankly neither will moving to Texas, the mountains, or the beach.

For decades we’ve touted individual responsibility as the solution to our dilemmas while blatantly ignoring corporate irresponsibility and allowing the ineptitude of government. We’ve imprisoned millions and have declared wars on terrorism, crime, poverty, drugs, and fat only to make most of these issues far worse. Our response to the problems we face seems to be “everyone for themselves.” You don’t like being poor - get a job. You don’t like being addicted - stop using. You don’t like being heavy - start exercising. You don’t like your city – move.

And how’s that working for us?

Sicknesses don’t heal without addressing the root causes. There isn’t a vaccine for contempt, a magic cure for inequality, or a drug cocktail for racism. Shoving the unpleasant filth of homelessness to another location or putting drug users in jail does not eradicate the disease. A “can do” attitude doesn’t treat the gaping wounds of our nation’s crises of mental health, addiction, and inequality.

I’ve moved cities, states, and changed careers multiple times. I am a living testament that the grass isn’t always greener. I’ve learned the hard way that healing begins with both radical humility and brutal honesty. Healing begins with the ability to listen, the courage to speak out, and the willingness to stand up. Healing begins by expressing love and creating community.

Greener grass doesn’t start with a change of address, but a shift of consciousness.

The Cure for Contempt

I had a panic attack once. It was Halloween night about 10 years ago and as was customary back then, I went to my best friend’s house to join him in taking his kids out trick or treating. At the time, I was starting out in my first marriage and I knew my friend and his wife weren’t supportive of the union. Still, they graciously invited us over to participate in the Halloween festivities.

The trick or treating went fine and the conversations were civil, but there was a strained and forced awkwardness to the evening. I felt a bit off physically and by the time I ended up back home, I turned around and headed straight to the hospital.

My chest had started burning and tightening. I felt light-headed and my breathing was labored and shallow. I felt like a stranger in my own body. At the emergency room, they ran several tests and after monitoring me for a few hours they found nothing concerning. In the middle of the night they sent me home.

The doctors told me that I likely I had a panic attack and/or a severe case of heartburn. Thankfully my physical heart wasn’t damaged, but although I didn’t know it yet, my heart was broken nonetheless.

Over the course of the ensuing months as the tightness persisted, I learned to calm my breathing and remind myself that nothing was physically wrong with me. But all of the yoga, meditation, and breathing exercises still couldn’t solve the dilemma. They say that the body keeps the score and my body knew that something in my “heart” was wrong before I did. That burning in the chest continued until I finally admitted the truth and got to work.

I’ll spare you the details, but in a word my first marriage was utterly contemptuous. After day in and day out of judgment and finger pointing, at some point you cross a line of spite that’s hard to come back from. You almost forget what side you’re on or how it even started; you just know that the ‘other’ person is the enemy.

In my case, I was swimming in a sea of hatred and I was drowning. I went into survival mode knowing that getting safely to shore meant getting rid of the poisonous venom in my heart and removing myself from the relationship.

Contempt is simply not a survivable situation. This is not a theory, but a scientifically validated opinion. John Gottman has been one of the foremost marriage psychologists for decades. He’s published dozens of peer reviewed research papers and written several books on the topic. Gottman’s studies can predict with over 90% accuracy whether couples will stay married or end up in divorce. Much of his work can be paraphrased with the statement: “Contempt kills relationships.”

As I found out the hard way, contempt can end your marriage. I also learned that contempt can literally make you sick. Studies show that those in a contemptuous relationship are more likely to have weakened immune systems and suffer from infectious illnesses. Is it possible that the pandemic we’re suffering through is so widespread partially because of such hatred? It’s worth considering.

Contempt is beyond disgust or distaste. Contempt is a cancer that poisons everything in its path. Contempt doesn’t care if you’ve been victimized, oppressed, or judged. Contempt doesn’t care if you’re “right.” Contempt afflicts the accuser and accused alike. Contempt is hatred, pure and simple. As Dr. Gottman points out, “unions” do not survive hatred - Not marriages, families, organizations, or countries.

When I recognized that contempt in my own heart, I knew it was time for a drastic change. My first instinct was to leave. For those that have ever been in an abusive relationship or a hateful marriage, sometimes you have to put on your own oxygen mask first and make it to safety. So I left my marriage, my job, my hometown, and I started fresh. But leaving was just the beginning.

I still had to get the venom out of my heart and removing the toxins required eradicating the disdain from my consciousness. I stopped drinking for a year, meditated and exercised daily, and started working on spiritual direction. It took a little time, but the poison finally dissipated and left my body and mind.

I hadn’t thought about that burning sensation in my chest for some time until I noticed it rearing its ugly head again recently. I immediately recognized the feeling - tightness, agitation, and a searing heat across my chest. I knew better than to ask my doctor or evaluate my diet. Thankfully, I’m now in a healthy and harmonious marriage, so it wasn’t that. After pondering the feeling, I realized that this time what’s making me literally feel sick is the hatred in my own country.

The primal part of me just wants to flee like I did back when I was surrounded by a wall of contempt in my first marriage. Sometimes I daydream of a sunny beach in Mexico as my next home, but changing locations won’t change the fact that I am an American and love my country. I’ll still have that tightness in my chest even on a beach in Mexico unless I do the work of removing the toxins from my thinking.

Ultimately there’s only one cure for contempt. It sounds a bit trite and pollyannaish to simply say “love, empathy, or understanding.” Truthfully, it’s a pretty tall order to love in the face of hate, seek peace in the face of injustice, or find forgiveness in the face of inequality. But make no mistake, loving, forgiving and letting go is the work. And the moment we say “but what about?” (the economy, the Supreme Court, or whatever your hot-button issue is) we stop doing the work.

There are no issues or exceptions that justify doubling down on contempt, because once you are infected with contempt, you cannot possibly see clearly. Besides, the ignorant and hateful are way better at it than you are. It’s what MLK, Gandhi, and Mandela all understood to be absolute - hate simply cannot stand in the face of love and forgiveness. We must let the ignorance and hate be theirs.

Only love offers the cure for contempt.

Love and let go

My Dad was a dyed-in-the-wool Republican. As far as I know he voted only once for a Democrat back in the day when he was involved with a group that helped elect a Democratic governor in Oregon.

Dad and I didn’t see eye to eye on politics. Pops was an old-school conservative who fervently believed in smaller government and lower taxes. While I have never opposed those concepts in theory, I have always felt that in reality, such a viewpoint is far too simplistic and narrow.

Like Dad, I’ve always held strong opinions on politics (and everything else!) but not in a dualistic, two party sense. I’m fiercely independent and generally more of a third party kind of guy. I believe that ‘either-or’ is broken and has been for some time.

I’m not anti government or anti business. I believe both should be held accountable from the influence of money and abuses of power. I believe that freedom is not the absence of laws but the presence of fair laws. I believe that liberty is not synonymous with “doing what I want, whenever I want.” By my definition, freedom means equality, period.

But enough about my opinions - Everyone has them and is entitled to one. Back to my Dad.

Pops thought my political opinions were naïve and told me so when we argued the subject. Several years ago when I was having lunch at a restaurant with my parents in Portland, the topic of illegal immigration came up. In standard fashion, Dad reiterated the conservative ‘rule of law’ talking point. “There’s a right way to immigrate and if you break the law, you’re a criminal,” he would say.

I have a more nuanced opinion. I responded to Pop’s rant with a comment to the effect of “Dad you can build a 100 foot wall and it won’t keep people out of this country. As long as there’s more opportunity here then there, immigrants (legal or otherwise) will find a way around, under, or over that wall. You would do the same thing for your family if you were them. The issue isn’t the legality here, its helping raise the standard of living there.”

My Father responded with the typical “don’t be so naïve” comment and voices were raised in a heated back and forth exchange. Dad ended storming out of the restaurant and going home, leaving my Mother and me sitting at the table stunned and speechless. Incidentally Dad always insisted on picking up the check at meals and this is one of the few times I was stuck with the bill. Well-played Pop!

Dad and I made up on the phone later that afternoon and I quietly resolved to myself that we should just stick to sports and father-son stuff and avoid the topic of politics in the future. We pretty much did, but at times he just couldn’t help himself from yelling at the TV news and his political rants. Whenever he did, I would mostly tune it out, interject a little humor, or change the subject.

But then something changed. Dad started slowing down. As he approached his mid-seventies, he developed a host of health issues. I used to joke that if they had a medical punch card, his next procedure would be free. Facing a declining health and his mortality brought out a kinder and gentler version of my Dad. With Mom’s encouragement Pop started watching less cable news. He still shook his fist occasionally, but his roar became softer and his rants less frequent. He sent fewer political emails and miraculously, he even swore less.

He started praying more and joined a men’s bible study group. He frequently called old friends to check on them. He made new friends and when he was out and about, he always asked others about their lives. Dad gave back in his community and helped start a trust for disadvantaged kids at a local Christian school. He still held strong opinions but instead of retreating in to his own ego, he opened up his heart.

In all transparency, I’m sure most of Dad’s friends and neighbors were like-minded politically and philosophically. It’s natural to hang with those that share your views. But as a lifelong advertising executive, I am sure at some level Dad also knew the dangers of groupthink in an echo chamber. Dad knew deep down, you have to step back from the noise to see clearly. Ultimately it requires global contemplation and local action to really make a difference.

Like anyone my father had his flaws and was far from perfect. But if I learned one absolute thing from my Dad that supersedes any other thing it’s that love matters more. For all of his legendary profanity-laced tirades, when it mattered most, he was able to love and forgive with the best of them. As I wrote about a while back, he even loved and forgave my Grandfather after he left my Grandmother (who was dying of cancer at the time) for another woman. Whether it was the transgressions of his own father, the actions of those that were his adversaries in business, or the opinions of those that disagreed with him, Dad lived by loving and letting go.

Blood runs thick and many learn to love and let go when it comes to their own families. But what we need now more than ever is to love and let go where it comes to those in our community and country that seem completely opposed to our position. That neighbor with the Trump sign in his yard? Yeah, that guy - love him and let go of the need to justify your own opinion. That uber-liberal, socialist college professor? Yeah, her too. That drug-addicted homeless person, the right wing militia people, your racist uncle? Yes. All of them. Love and let go.

Dad and I probably wouldn’t agree much on the current state of political affairs, but there’s at least one issue on which I am certain we would agree. The most important thing isn’t what I think or how I vote. The most important thing is to let go of the need to be right and love my neighbor.

2020 Vision

20/20 vision is defined as “normal visual acuity measured at a distance of 20 feet.” Essentially, 20/20 vision indicates the clarity of vision at a distance.

I don’t have 20/20 vision. I wear glasses when I drive, go to the movies, or attend a live event. Bound by the limitations of my genetics, seeing from distance has never been my strong suit. Thankfully I was taught from a young age that ‘seeing’ clearly with my thinking is something that has no physical or genetic boundaries. But in these tumultuous times, clarity of thought can seem as challenging as seeing a clear picture without my glasses.

Regardless of how well our physical eyes can see the events unfolding around us, it’s difficult to examine many modern circumstances with the perspective of true 20/20 vision. Instead many of us default to the short-sidedness of only seeing how the present directly affects us personally.

In a time of acute danger, we don’t use our ability to see from a distance. Instead we only see the immediate things that are right in front of us. We simplify things to a fight or flight response and quick, digestible thoughts - friend or foe, good or bad. When we sense a threat like someone who means us harm or a poisonous snake that comes across our path, we run, or we stand and fight.

If you happen to find yourself in a terrible circumstance like your house being on fire, such black and white thinking might just save your life. But when faced with complex existential threats – climate change, economic inequality, political gridlock, systemic racial injustice, health epidemics, and global pandemics – fight or flight thinking is a disaster.

The type of dualistic thinking that saves your life when a lion approaches or a bus swerves into your lane of traffic merely fans the flames when faced with foreboding hazards like challenges of 2020. Much of the cultural thought construct related to our current threats is seen through the narrow lens of self-preservation, namely:

1) Pride (Fight).

2) Victimhood (Flight).

Both pride and victimhood are ultimately two sides of the same coin - ego. The ego is easy to spot with its tendency towards narcissism, noncompliance, and nostalgia. The ego is quick to anger and loves to point fingers.

Anytime I have been deeply wrong in my life, ego had everything to do with it. When I have suffered trauma, divorce, job loss, physical setbacks, my first reaction was the self-preservation of running from the pain or fighting back. During my divorce, someone that helped me through it reminded me that, “victims don’t heal.” Of course, the arrogant and prideful don’t heal either.

Simply blaming the other side gets us nowhere. Simply touting individual responsibility while ignoring corporate and governmental responsibility solves nothing. Simply seeing a one-sided version of history doesn’t allow for healing and humility to enter our field of vision.

To truly heal, we need introspection, compassion, and forgiveness. That starts with seeing the whole picture.

While we’re hard wired to fight and flight, unfortunately, most of us aren’t very good at facing history whether it’s the mistakes we’ve made individually or the missteps of history that we’ve made collectively.

It requires radical humility to accept and acknowledge the entire spectrum of both personal and collective history and not just the convenient version. James Baldwin once said: “Not everything that is faced can be changed; but nothing can be changed until it is faced.” That is why the first step of addiction recovery is to admit the problem - to admit the truth of history.

Many of the imminent dangers of 2020 have slowly been magnifying over the course of decades. To understand the effects of our present circumstances we must be willing to look at the causes. For that, we must use the wisdom of 2020 “vision” – that is, seeing from a distance.

Seeing clearly allows for truth and only truth can bring about reconciliation and resurrection. The complex issues we face necessitates a deeper and broader frame of reference – a clear depth of field, an inclusive perspective, and the ability to assess history with equanimity and honesty.

In essence, we must hold ourselves to higher standards of thought to solve the immense dilemmas of our time. What we need now in 2020 is true 20/20 vision - the ability to see with transparency and clarity. Such vision requires the willingness to take off the blinders of partisanship, tribalism, and identity politics. In short:

·       We must let go of thinking simplistically and instead we must think holistically.

·       We must relinquish our possessiveness and turn our view towards the greater good.

·       We must acknowledge truth to find catharsis and reconciliation.

·       We must see with the “eyes” of reflection and contemplation.

·       We must use the full spectrum of color to see clearly.

Vast uncertainty, turmoil, economic upheaval, loss, professional setback, compromised health, injustice, inequality, and climate change - many of us have experienced these issues in some form in the past six months alone! Loss and uncertainty can often lead to anger and despair. But loss can also lead to renewal, growth, and transformation if we’re willing to do the work.

Life has taught me is that it’s difficult to see clearly in the midst of a storm. But life has also taught me that navigating through the rough seas depends on how and where I fix my gaze. True “2020” vision isn’t the ability to see correctly with the eyes or even the head, but to listen truthfully with the heart.

The Language of Love

As I have been watching the events and occurrences of this year, I find myself struggling to find the right balance. I feel a yearning to act and to speak out, but I also feel apprehensive at times - like I’m not sure what to say. In reflecting on the volatility of our country and the fragility of life, many unanswered questions come to mind: What’s the right thing to do moving forward? How do we repair wrongs of the past? How do we speak with those with whom there’s seemingly little or no common ground?

What is the right language for this moment?

My late Father taught me that what’s most important isn’t my opinion, what my friends think of me, how I vote, or even how I pray - What matters most is how I love. In short, the “language” I use will define the path I am on and the actions I take.

Though we all have the capacity to speak and demonstrate it, love is a language that is not always our primary expression. Ego, pride, anger, judgment, and regret are voices that sometimes drown out our native tongue.

The truth is no matter what our differences, origins, or opinions, we all have the ability to communicate in a common language of grace, acceptance, and empathy. This language called love reminds me of a powerful story I recall from 20 years ago involving one of my childhood idols, Bono.

As arguably the biggest rock star in the world back in 2001, “Bono” (Paul David Hewson of U2 fame) sat down to lunch with an unabashed racist and narrow-minded bigot.

At that time, there was a global pandemic that was decimating the continent of Africa. As we know by now, pandemics know no borders, but AIDS by the year 2000 was largely controlled, treatable, and preventable in wealthy and developed nations. In poverty stricken Africa however, AIDS was still a death sentence for millions.

Feeling that something drastic needed to be done, Bono decided to throw the full weight of his fame and influence behind the issue. He sought bipartisan support and funding to combat the pandemic. Standing in his way was Republican Senator Jesse Helms.

According to the Forbes article “I will follow”, there was no greater opponent of AIDS funding at that time than Senator Helms. Helms, a conservative evangelical, had harshly spoken out against the LGBT community calling them “perverts” and “weak, morally sick wretches.” He referred to AIDS as “a gay disease.” I won’t even mention his deplorable and toxic views on race.

In response, did Bono galvanize his global base of millions of fans and try to shame Senator Helms out of office? Did he call Helms out as the racist bigot he was? Did he belittle the religious right? Did he encourage his followers to show up at state capitals to protest with guns?

Not exactly. Instead of using his platform to shout back at Helms, Bono invited him to lunch. He then tirelessly met with evangelical leaders and listened to them. He cited Bible versus about poverty and respectfully spoke their language. In learning how to work with his adversaries, Bono commented: “When you have a person who may appear rigidly opposed to something, look for ways to widen the aperture of their narrow idealistic view.”

Elaborating on his response, Bono continued: “I've learned to speak in a lot of tongues, and I can live with the bellicose language of some fervent, fire-breathing Christians...It's not my language, but actually, I don't mind how people come to this, to the front line on this. People have different motivations. I surprise myself [about] how much I've learned from conservatives, not coming from that vein, even conservative Christians whose beliefs I don't share.”

The rest is, as they say, history. Senator Helms became a staunch and vocal supporter of AIDS funding and research. He even became a fan of U2. With global support, Africa in turn has made incredible strides in the fight against AIDS.

Bono’s selfless actions led to significant progress on the global AIDS crisis. But did his efforts also excuse Helm’s blatantly racist and bigoted past? What about justice and punishment? What about being right? After all, while Martin Luther King Jr. preached that, “Only love” (can drive out hate) he also said, “there comes a time when silence is betrayal.”

How and when to speak up and out are fair questions, especially in our current political climate. But as Dr. King stated and as Bono demonstrated in his work fighting the AIDS pandemic, to make real progress and effect lasting change, sometimes you have to meet people where they are at - even if those people are reprehensible in your view.

Still, it’s tempting to see being right as the most important thing. It’s no secret that we all love to be right. We even receive a rush of dopamine when we read something that mirrors our own opinion. Certainly, it’s natural to surround yourself with others that share your beliefs. It’s undoubtedly courageous to speak out and stand for justice.

But only talking to like-minded individuals that share your opinion simply creates an echo chamber, not progress. And drawing a line in the sand isn’t necessarily the same as getting something done.

More than anything right now, we need to speak the language of love. Narrow-mindedness, hatred, bigotry, and selfishness, and aren’t working. While silence certainly isn’t the answer, neither is hatefully shouting back. If your enemy is filled with judgment and hate, let it be their hate. Contempt, racism, injustice, and even apathy will die with those that refuse to let these qualities go. But only love can actually heal these conditions and make rights out of wrongs. Hate simply cannot survive in the face of love.

Look, I don’t know much about the science of global pandemics. I don’t what it’s like to be the victim of senseless racism or blatant discrimination. I can’t comprehend what it’s like to carry the burden of hundreds of years of oppression and persecution. I don’t have the answers to our political dysfunction and I certainly don’t know much about being a rock star or a US senator. But I do know that no matter what the situation is, my job is to listen with humility, stand up for justice, and speak with the language of love. I don’t have all of the answers, but I do know that love is the answer.

Groundhog Day

Lately I’ve been feeling like Bill Murray in the movie Groundhog Day. In recent weeks it’s the same routine, the same uncertainty, and the same boredom day in and day out.

Every night it feels like I’m watching a rerun of the previous night’s evening news - COVID-19, the failing economy, and the anger on both sides of the open or not debate. It’s as if tonight’s news could have been two months ago or two months from now. Like Groundhog Day, life seems to be stuck at a standstill and on auto repeat.

The illusion of feeling stuck in an endless day is enough to drive one mad. As Einstein once said, “The separation between past, present and future is only an illusion, although a convincing one.” Of course, time isn’t really stuck and there is movement, but it’s easy to feel hopeless if you look in the wrong places.

When I have faced vast uncertainty in my life - Losing my job, the end of a close relationship, the passing of a loved one, a global pandemic, two things tend to happen. First, the days get really long and I’m prone to escape these endless hours with distractions and numbing. Secondly, I spend much of my time ruminating and dwelling on the past or future. Looking back, I rehash my missteps and fall into the pratfalls of guilt and shame. When I’m not looking back, I turn my gaze towards the what’s to come. My brain keeps me up at night spinning in a merry go round of yet unanswered questions: “What’s going to happen? Where will I go? What will I do? What if this pain never ends?” The list goes on.

It’s a cycle I have repeated many, many times throughout the years. Then something brings me back to the moment. To the present. To what I have always known – there is only now and love is the answer.

In the movie Groundhog Day when faced with the prospect of having to repeat the same day over and over again, Bill Murray’s character, Phil Connors first embraces his plight by indulging his every desire from binge eating to habitually womanizing. But eventually these distractions lose their allure and Phil becomes despondent, determining that suicide is the only choice left. But even that doesn’t work - the days keep coming. Only love offers him a way out.

Like Phil Connors, when I have felt stuck, I’ve tried almost every trick in the book (minus the robbery and suicide attempts). My indulgences range from comfort food to cold beer; YouTube clips to endless scrolling on my phone. At some point my wife inevitably pleads with me to put the phone down and be present.

It’s good advice. It’s really the only advice - There is only now, use it wisely.

Remember when you were a little kid? Your parents would tell you it was only three weeks until your birthday or three months until the family trip to Disneyland. You’d wake up every day asking, “is today the day?” But three weeks might as well have been three years to a three year old. As a small child you had no concept of time. There is no yesterday or tomorrow, only today.

As adults many are inclined to trade the wonder of living in the present for the tug of war between blissful memories and wishful thinking. We internalize regret and mull over the paralyzing uncertainty of the future. To cope with this loop of hope, fear and remorse, we tend to form “busy” lives with jobs, families, and activities.

Only discipline or a crisis breaks this cycle of busyness. The discipline of mindfulness allows you to see the truth about time and a crisis forces you to reevaluate how you use it. Sometimes a crisis is necessary to wake us up and ground us on a new foundation. Sometimes discipline is necessary to remind us what we already know - there is only now, use it wisely.

This year Punxsutawney Phil did not see his shadow and predicted an early spring. While temperatures have stayed generally above average, ironically, ‘winter’ still endures for many. Darkness feels prevalent, sickness is in the air, and we yearn for the new beginnings of spring.

I’m guessing this moment likely isn’t your favorite moment. This pandemic has brought a lot of primal fear, anger, and dysfunction to the surface. In response, maybe you’re looking back pining away for the good old busy days. Maybe you’re using your time now swimming in a sea of distractions: surfing, scrolling, and binging. Or maybe you’re up late at night paralyzed with fear about the future. 

In these present circumstances, sometimes life feels like Groundhog Day. Add in a heavy dose of fear and uncertainty and the choices can feel limited - escape the present, wish for the past, or hope for the future. All seem like reasonable choices given the climate of quarantines, protests, and social distancing.

I can’t blame you for looking back, escaping the present, or worrying about the future. I’m certainly guilty on most days. But then I remember that I only have one job - to love - my Maker, my neighbor, and myself.

Love is an activity that is only available in the present. As Phil Connors learned in that classic movie, sandwiched between meditating on the past and an imagined future, the present ultimately offers no choice but to love. When faced with immense hatred, the tumultuous Sixties, and the vast uncertainty of the future, Martin Luther king Jr. said, “We have before us the glorious opportunity to inject a new dimension of love into the veins of our civilization.” We too have this glorious opportunity.

Whether it’s real life or a movie script, the futile effort of trying to escape the moment only exacerbates our circumstances. The past is merely an unreliable memory, the future is yet an unknown mystery, and the present offers us the opportunity to go deeper and to love. There is only now, use it wisely.

A New Shore

I remember when my friend Matt walked in to the wilderness and never returned. I had just spoken with him a couple of days before his disappearance and his final words to me were, “if I could just figure out my medication.” Matt was generous, smart, passionate, and wickedly funny. I miss him terribly. If only I could go back.

I remember the first time I was in the hospital. I was seven and had a staph infection in my knee, which required two major reconstructive surgeries. The episode left me scarred both literally and figuratively. I still am terrified of needles and to this day, my knee pops and aches from years of scar tissue build up. If only I could go back.

I remember when I skipped a chance to see Pavarotti perform in Vienna so I could go out partying instead. I remember movies before they were just comic book sagas and endless sequels. I remember TV before reality TV, news before it was sensationalized and polarizing, and TV ads before they were mostly drug ads. I remember life before we were plugged in 24/7 and when the Internet was basically just an encyclopedia. If only I could go back.

I remember when I wanted to change my major but I never did - I didn’t study what I loved in college, I studied what I thought I should study. I remember the time I didn’t get into grad school and didn’t try again. I remember when I didn’t start that business, create that curriculum, or write that book. If only I could go back.

I remember the first time I had my heart broken. In junior high I had my first kiss with my first girlfriend and weeks later, she dumped me. I tore up a textbook on the school bus in frustration. Since then I’ve had partnerships fail, an ex-girlfriend die in a mass shooting, and I experienced a gut-wrenching divorce. I’ve learned that broken hearts heal, but you also can’t take back the wrongs. If only I could back.

I remember when I was 22 and Grandpa died. He was just learning what it really meant to love and then, it was over. I sat with my cousin in the hospital hallway and sobbed and sobbed. I yearned to know my real Grandfather. If only I could go back.

I remember the time I didn’t take the job in San Francisco or the one in New Orleans. The time I thought I had found the perfect career, but didn’t get the gig. The time the big promotion didn’t pan out, the time the start-up failed, and the time my favorite job morphed into corporate monotony. I remember last year when I was passed up for what seemed like the perfect position. If only I could go back.

I remember when I was perfectly fit. I remember not feeling my backache every morning. I remember dancing around that boxing ring feeling like I was the champ. If I could be frozen in time physically, I’d choose to live at age 33. If only I could go back.

I remember last year when Dad was sick. As I watched him in his final weeks I was angry that I would never get to see Mom and Dad be that cute and loving elderly couple in their 80’s an 90’s. I felt robbed of that time with Dad living out his golden years. If only I could go back.

I remember life before AIDS, the opioid epidemic, obesity, mass shootings, suicides of despair, political correctness, political gridlock, economic disparity, climate change and the COVID-19 Pandemic. If only I could go back…

There’s been a lot of talk recently about going back, returning to normal, and turning the economy back on. Going to work or school and having routine and structure are important aspects of daily life. But one thing I’ve learned over the years in both success and failure is that no matter how steadfastly we wish to go back or strive to recreate the past, we can never really go back.

Says author Francis Weller, “When we are in the grips of illness, a major focus in our mind is the hope of getting back to where we were before this sickness began. But we are not meant to go back...we must recognize that we have been uprooted by our cancer, our heart attack, or our depression and we have been set down on some new shore. Like any true ritual process, we are meant to come out of the experience deeply changed.”

The truth is we can’t go back and we aren’t meant to. Not when you face a life-altering illness. Not when you lose your first love, your best friend, or your Dad. Not when you lose your youth, your dream job ends, or when you experience transcendent art for the first time.

We will never get to experience childhood again, go back to the first day of college, or experience the choices we didn’t make. We can only shed our old skin and make new choices. It is only in the willingness to encounter sorrow that we can truly know love and it is only in losing part of ourselves that we allow ourselves the space to grow.

The western paradigm is a love affair with infinite growth, but culturally we are simultaneously terrified of death. Ironically, true transformational growth happens through loss when we face our shadows of guilt and grief. We can only be born again after losing ourselves first. When we aren’t willing to face the death of our ego ideals, we simply see repetition, stagnation, and gridlock. If these words sound familiar, maybe it’s because in many ways they are a descriptive of ‘normal’ life in modern society.

U2 was my favorite band growing up and they used to end every concert with their song “Forty” based on the 40th Psalm. As the show would end, the entire crowd would sing the chorus in unison “I will sing, sing a new song.” The chant would continue until the band left the stage and the lights came on.

When this sickness is over, we will have been set down on “a new shore” as Francis Weller says. This moment presents an opportunity – not to go back, return to normal, or make something great once again, but to be truly transformed and sing a new song.

Garbage In, Garbage Out

“My experience is what I agree to attend to.” - William James

If I had a nickel for every time I heard my Mother say the phrase “garbage in, garbage out” when I was growing up, I’d probably be retired by now. Usually this phrase was reserved as a retort for when my brother and I used profanity or when we wanted to watch a movie or TV program that Mom didn’t approve of.

I remember once when I was huddled around the living room TV with my friends watching a movie. If memory serves me correctly, it was the 80’s cult-classic Sixteen Candles. Maybe it was Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Either way, at a certain risqué scene, Mom went over to the VCR, hit the stop button and with a stern look said, “Not in my house - Garbage in, garbage out!” My friends didn’t bat an eye; we simply headed outside to play basketball.

In my house, neatness was expected. Just like we knew enough not to mess with my Dad when it came to literal garbage in terms of picking up after ourselves, we also knew never to mess with my Mom when it came to ‘garbage’ in terms of morality. (Garbage did not pertain to junk food and sweets, although sugar cereal was outlawed and alcohol was definitely verboten in our home).

For some garbage back then was rap music or movies and video games that glorified sex and violence. Tipper Gore even led a movement condemning explicit music. Whether or not such content was or is actually harmful is up for debate, but it’s easy to see why rap and violent video games may have seemed threatening to suburban Moms. Importantly awareness was brought to the issue for people to make up their own minds about taking out what they deemed as ‘trash.’

Still, the 80’s was a different and more simplistic time. Back then people watched TV, listened to cassette tapes and radio, and they may have had a VCR, but that was about it. With the prevalence of the Internet, the average American now consumes an estimated 11 hours of media every day! With this environment of constant connectivity, today’s garbage is harder to quantify and more subtle. But the influences of fear, addiction, hatred, and toxicity are everywhere if we look closely.

The world has been transfixed about the growing concerns of the COVID-19 pandemic and rightfully so, at least to a degree. Knowledge is power and staying informed and taking precautions is prudent, thoughtful and saves lives. But misinformation, hysteria, gossip, and profiting on the fears of others is repulsive and repugnant.

Many feel helpless as to what they can do to control their lives in a time of social distancing and self-quarantine. We can start by taking out the garbage. That is, controlling what content we take in, substances we consume, and even what thoughts we think. As a recent article that I read stated, “To Control Your Life, Control What You Pay Attention To.”

This is a tipping point in our society and one of the lessons learned from this pandemic is to be on guard with our thinking. We need to pay much greater attention where it comes to the environment, our collective health, and the well-being of others around us. We need to pay more attention to the food we eat, the media we consume, and the relationships we keep. We need to pay much less attention to fear, overconsumption, and judgment towards others. We also need to pay less attention to those looking to control our thoughts and influence our behavior.

For instance, how alert are you to the marketing messages you are ingesting? Digital marketing experts estimate that most Americans are exposed to around 4,000 to 10,000 ads each day. Some of these ads are informative, some are entertaining, but some are merely promoting fear, consumption, and even addiction for the sake of profit. The same goes for other content whether it’s news or merely entertainment.

Instead of taking in garbage we must stand firm for truth and justice and know that harmony and positivity can also bring abundance. Especially now, we must scrutinize what others are saying whether it’s a person, group, or a corporation. If every thought and action is based in either fear or love, we must spend our time now more than ever separating the trash from the recycling, the good from the bad, and the fear from the love.

Whatever your religious, moral, or political beliefs are we can probably all agree that we need to be taking out the trash with more regularity. Taking out the trash starts with clarity of thought and clarity of thought starts with stillness and solitude. Maybe it’s time to cut down to just 10 hours of media a day and use that other hour to pray, meditate, or just take a quiet walk. As Anne Lamott says, “almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes, including you.”

Before this crisis occurred, we had glaring systemic and societal issues to address – a declining life expectancy, opioid and substance addiction, suicide, and obesity. We have a homelessness epidemic and a significant portion of our populace that is one bad break from being on the street. We have a stagnant and gridlocked (if not broken) political system. Far too many are self-obsessed, narcissistic, and even hateful where it comes to those that think differently. Far too many are feeling left behind, left out, and forgotten. Even the planet is neglected. 

None of this is a coincidence. As Mom used to say, if our thinking is full of garbage, so will the byproducts of our thoughts. My sincere hope is that this pandemic represents a moment that will allow for empathy and love to conquer our collective thinking. Maybe this is the moment where we see that the person you despise or the individual who opposes your viewpoint is just like you are – someone with a capacity to both hurt and heal.

We must cast out fear, compulsivity, and hatred by recognizing these malicious suggestions whether they come from our own thinking or the suggestions of others. As the saying goes, “Ships don’t sink because of the water around them. They sink because of the water that gets in them.” If there was ever a time to take out the garbage and put our thoughts on lockdown, that time is now.

Failure is an Option

I was recently asked in a job interview about my biggest failures in life and how I’ve dealt with them. I was caught a little off guard. “Aren’t you supposed to be asking me about all of my successes and snazzy resume virtues like revenue growth and educational accomplishments?” I thought to myself.

Really though, I was thrilled that the meeting lead with the topic of failure because as someone swimming in the season of midlife, I consider myself something of a failure expert. While I have much to be grateful for and have suffered far less trauma than many, I’ve also had my fair share of failures from divorce to being laid-off. 

I’ve been a part of two failed start-ups. I’ve been rejected for more acting auditions and article submissions than I could possibly count. I once applied to several top acting Masters programs and didn’t get in to any of them. I’ve outlined career choices I thought were the right next step only to be rejected and/or profoundly disappointed. I’ve made poor financial decisions. I’ve hurt others and walked away from close friendships. I’ve experienced significant injuries, major surgeries, and the vast uncertainty of having your health compromised. Like almost everyone, I’ve experienced the sting of defeat, the utter frustration of a significant misstep, and the total loss of losing a loved one.

Of course, I gave my interviewer the cliff-notes version of my failures and weaved just a couple of them in to my narrative on failure forging character. The interviewer nodded in agreement, and we quietly moved on to my successes. 

While society lauds a winner, we merely give lip service to the losers. Most of that sentiment is about dusting ourselves off to succeed again. But navigating failure is deeper than learning to succeed in the wake of it. Facing failure is about seeing our shadow, confronting our sorrow, and stepping once again into the arena to oppose the dragon. In the Hollywood version, the loser gets knocked down, but always gets back up and slays the dragon. 

But I’m not a screenwriter and the purpose of this piece is not to romanticize failure. Make no mistake, failure is brutal. Failure can break your heart, hit you in the gut and pull the carpet from under your feet. Failure sucks - It literally hurts everywhere.

Especially in a success-driven culture, failure is a hard pill to swallow. But failure is also our best medicine, because failure forces humility. This state allows for the greatest of all human experiences to flourish - love. As grief guru and writer Francis Weller says, “Loss is the other side of the coin of love. The greater the love, the greater the loss.” Vulnerability creates the fertile soil where friendship, empathy, and love blossoms.

True love is only available to those who are willing to have their hearts broken. If you study the world’s religions, you will see a common theme among them - brokenness allows for spiritual growth. Christ doesn’t talk about the proud and successful being blessed, but of the meek, the poor in spirit, and broken hearted finding true peace and happiness. 

The reason for this is simple - When the ego is in the driver’s seat, we cannot hear the voice of authenticity. It’s hard to listen for divine direction when we’re patting ourselves on the back, counting our money, and shining our trophies. It’s when we’re broken that we’re open. Of course, as I can attest, it’s when we’re broken that we’re also depressed, addicted, and numb.

As one who has failed plenty, it’s not easy to hear the ‘you’ll get them next time’ mantra. No one likes to hear about ‘silver linings’ in the midst of trauma, setback, or devastation. Players don’t want to hear “better luck next year” after a gut-wrenching loss; they want to know when the next win is coming. But life doesn’t guarantee wins, life only guarantees losses, and it’s those losses that create character and help us define our true callings. Irish poet John O’Donahue once said, “Life is a growth in the art of loss.”

The truth of failure isn’t that once you’ve learned from defeat, you’ll get them next time or it won’t happen again. Learning from failure doesn’t even necessarily mean that you’ll ultimately be stronger. The truth is simply that if we’re willing to face our most profound disappointments, our hearts will ultimately open. This meekness allows for us to do our most meaningful work and demonstrate our greatest capacity to love.

As the interview wound down having touched on both my successes and failures, the interviewer asked me another pointed question. “When’s the last time you felt really alive?” he inquired. It didn’t take me long to respond. “In delivering the eulogy for my Dad at his memorial,” I said as tears welled up in my eyes. I vividly recalled how powerful it was to celebrate and remember Dad with hundreds of people that he had touched. Ironically, in remembering a loved one who had just passed, I’ve never felt so alive. As Francis Weller says, “We are most alive at the threshold between loss and revelation; every loss ultimately opens the way for a new encounter.” The interviewer was stunned. “That...was a great answer.” He said.

As a society, we’re so caught up with success that paradoxically, we’ve forgotten how to fail. We only post our best pictures and portray our most perfect selves, unwilling to see the failure that lurks beneath the surface. We celebrate the celebrities, stars, and small minority of haves while the have-nots wallow in a sea of numbness, distraction, and despair.

We are all called to mourn and to open our hearts. We have much grief work to do in facing our collective losses, missed opportunities, economic disparity, and our ailing planet. Each day as I work through the sadness of missing my Dad, I also try and work through the anguish caused by regret, massive disappointment, and lost opportunity. Bringing dignity to my grief is a process.

It’s right to plan, strive, and hope for success, but life has also taught me that failure is definitely an option. As I learn to let go of the desires of the ego and sit with loss and suffering, I also learn to listen more intently and love more fiercely. Facing our grief and failure teaches us how to love (ourselves, a job, person, or calling) again.

Oh and speaking of failure, I didn’t get the job. 

The Basement

Shortly after my divorce in 2012, I decided a fresh start was in order. Having hit the reset button before, I knew enough to trust my instincts. So when the circumstances of a traumatic event like a divorce shook my foundation, I started pondering my next move.

The fresh start can take on many forms - A new career, new address, new relationship, and for some, even new religion or a shiny new toy. I had moved cities, states and jobs before, but a new address wasn’t the only directional change I was seeking. I was at a crossroads, and for me, the only way forward was to step down into the depths and build back up from the base.

As I considered my options, my best friend from college encouraged me to come to Colorado where the sun shines almost every day and opportunities are plentiful for the adventurous and entrepreneurial. “Come to Colorado. You can live with us in the basement until you get situated out here” he said.

“Perfect”, I thought to myself, “A forty year-old divorced and unemployed man living in his friend’s basement. Doesn’t get any better than that!” Surely, that bit needed to go on my online dating profile. Yet that Colorado blue sky contrasted with that musty dark bunker sounded like exactly what I needed. So I took Bernard up on his offer, packed up my Volkswagen, and headed to Denver. As promised, the basement was waiting for me.

I don’t remember a ton about my two months in that windowless basement. I remember hanging my clothes on an old Bowflex exercise machine, I remember hearing the sounds of that grand old house filled with a loving family above me, and I remember the quiet tone of that contemplative period.

It was a hot summer, but that basement was dark and cool, providing the perfect environment for my introspective journey. During the day, I worked part time, went on runs, and shot hoops with the kids. At night, I went down into the basement and to explore my own infrastructure and reestablish my groundwork.

The basement wasn’t just my location at that juncture, but my state of mind and a metaphor for the work that is necessary for all of us from time to time. To look through the cobwebs and into our innermost depths - to face the dark, damp cellar of one’s own soul.

There were no distractions in that basement. No deluxe man cave, no pool table, no TV, no women, no booze. Just questions to sit with like, “Who am I without labels, titles, or even relationships? What is the core of my essence that’s down deep inside me?”

The tools necessary for the work in the basement aren’t necessarily the tools celebrated by our culture. Stillness, wisdom, patience aren’t nearly as popular as doing, striving, and showing. For years, I had felt the key to my success was “outer” success. Indeed, success for many of us is crafting elaborate homes adorned with immaculate landscaping and fancy facades.

Going down into the basement isn’t like that. The shadow work of time in the basement won’t necessarily get you lots of followers, a leaner midsection or a bigger bank account. There’s no Instagram pictures to post in the basement. But the basement is where the inner workings of our lives are stored - our old belongings, memories, and keepsakes. Unlike the well-manicured front lawns and grand entryways that we portray to the outer world, the basement is the unseen guts of our lives. The basement is hidden from plain view, but the basement also represents the most important part of a structure - the foundation.

Basements are where we store our stuff, do our laundry and work on projects. You have to get your hands dirty in the basement and you may shine a light on some unsightly messes that need attention. Basements are also safety zones - shelters where we’re protected from the elements. Basements aren’t sexy, but it’s where we go to weather a storm.

In going through abrupt change, it’s much easier to work on the exterior - the new job or the better body. For many, it’s seems more gratifying and appealing to put a fresh coat of paint on the outside than to dig through boxes in the basement. Basements may often be an afterthought, but the truth and the real work always starts at the root.

I don’t know a ton about construction, engineering, or houses for that matter, but I do know that in order to build a sound structure, you have to go down before you go up. It’s also that way with people. We all store old stuff in that basement and we must be willing to explore the basement to make sure the foundation isn’t compromised, cracked, or leaking.

A sound foundation means being willing to face the darkness and nakedness. For me, spending time in the basement ultimately helped me foster the openness and courage to forge a new path professionally, meet my wife and make yet another move from the big city up to the Rocky Mountains of Colorado.

Like the basement, the mountains are also a wonderful metaphorical teacher. In the mountains, navigating the wilderness to reach the summit can provide perspective and humility. Looking across the vast expanse of life in the jagged peaks of the Rockies, I am oft reminded of my own small insignificance. I am also constantly inspired and filled with wonder.

In my current life now in Vail, instead of a basement, I’ve got a lot of boxes of stuff in the garage that need attention as my wife likes to remind me. I’m slowly making my way through those boxes, letting go of what doesn’t serve me, and making space for my next step. But wherever my next fresh start might be, I know that the real work begins down in the basement. 

What Dad taught me about life

My Dad never taught me how to hunt with a bow, rebuild a car engine or fix a broken fence. While my childhood was ideal in many ways, I never learned the “manly” skill sets of being handy or living off the land. Though Pop had been an active boy scout throughout his childhood, he was a city slicker at heart and much more inclined to teach me about creativity, culture, and business than using my hands to create.

During one of my summer jobs in junior high, I worked in an industrial shop and on my first day, the foreman asked me to hand him a 7/16 wrench. I literally had no idea what the heck he was talking about. Thankfully, I married into a good Southern family and my father-in-law taught me how to shoot a shotgun, chop wood, and grill a good cut of meat!

Don’t get me wrong, Dad had some pretty masculine qualities. He was bold, courageous, and as aggressive as they come. When Dad saw something he wanted, he went after it passionately. In his professional life, my father epitomized the definition of a type A personality. But in his personal life, he was soft as a kitty cat. Dad had a beautiful mixture of qualities from which I learned a great deal. Here are some of the life lessons that I learned from my father:

Never forget to say “I love you.” Some men think it’s not manly to show emotion, express affection, or be vulnerable. Dad thought that was bullshit. He said “I love you” every time I spoke to him. Every. Single. Time. More than anything, perhaps the most important lesson Dad taught me was that love matters most - More than status, material things, where you work, or how you vote. Pop stressed that even compared to personal happiness, love matters more. Dad felt that love was the most important thing in his life and he expressed that love with the best of them. He lived his life by leading with love - in the expression of friendship, devotion to family, and in caring for others around him.

Forgiveness is a necessity. My Grandfather was a very accomplished man. Unfortunately, he was also a very flawed man. As my Grandmother was dying of cancer, Grandpa ran off with a buxom blonde. Classy move huh? Holding a grudge would have been understandable. But Dad didn’t see it that way. You get one father and his dad, though obviously lacking character in some ways, also had qualities worth fighting for. Dad didn’t air Grandpa’s dirty laundry nor did he banish him into exile. Instead, he chose to forgive him without holding a grudge. In fact, I never even knew about Grandpa’s transgressions until long after he was gone. As the old adage goes, “love is stronger than pride.” Dad knew that to love with your whole heart also requires a forgiving heart. 

Say what you mean like you mean it. Dad was a church-going, God-fearing man. He had the utmost integrity in business and in life. He didn’t drink or smoke. But he did swear like a drunken sailor! When Dad barked, people listened. When we were growing up, Dad never used physical or harsh punishment. He didn’t need to. When we kids got out of line, Pop always had a few choice words that usually involved at least a few F Bombs. Believe me, we straightened up quickly. 

Swearing for emphasis has become sort of a lost art. As society has become more ‘advanced’ in many ways, collectively we’ve also become more politically correct, passive aggressive, and emotionally repressed. While it’s never right to be hurtful or hateful with words, it just might help us to be a bit more f**king direct every now and then. Dad taught us to always say what you mean whether it’s “I love you so much and I’m so proud of you,” or “Pick up your damn room!!!” Both ends of the spectrum have their place.

You are not your job, your things, or your money. Dad liked nice things. He and his friend Steve kicked the tires of just about every nice car they could get their shoes on. Dad drove luxury cars and wore custom suits. He sported a fancy gold watch, gold rings, a gold necklace and even a gold bracelet for good measure. If Dad had worn velour sweat suits, he could have been cast as The Godfather!

But as much as he appreciated nice stuff, Dad also learned the hard way that money comes and goes and things, are just things. And as careful and conscientious as he was with money, he also had some unlucky breaks. While some worked half as hard and seemed to skate by on easy street, Dad had the misfortune of some bad timing.

Dad didn’t have to just grapple with losing things and money at times, but status as well. While my father had a lot of professional success, as he wound down his career, he went from being the boss to the back burner rapidly. For decades, Pop had been a leader in business and the community, but in a flash he was a forgotten entity. It was a big time ego check, but he changed his identity with grace, humility, and gratitude.

Pop knew that even those of us fortunate enough to have success will be faced with a change of identity some day - athletes get injured, bosses retire, and marriages end by death or divorce. Titles and things are nice, but ultimately they matter a lot less than qualities.

The left lane is for passing only. Dad liked fast cars and driving them they way they are meant to be driven. Maybe it was his German heritage and subconsciously he saw the open road as the autobahn. Maybe it was the fast-paced New Yorker in him, but Dad knew where he was going and he didn’t F around with getting there quickly. His driving even earned him the moniker “Fast Phil.” Interestingly enough, I never recall Pops receiving a speeding ticket - He must have had some divine intervention there with him in the passenger seat! There are times in life to stop and smell the roses and there are times to drive fast and feel the wind in you hair. Dad knew how to stay in his lane.

Work Hard, Rest Hard. Though he moved quickly, was aggressive in business and could shop till he dropped, Dad balanced that drive as a world-class napper. He taught that hard work is a virtue, but he definitely emphasized rest as well. Dad could literally sleep anywhere - on planes, in cars and especially in his recliner!

As an intern in college, I once fell asleep in a large meeting at Dad’s advertising agency. After the meeting, he didn’t get mad or curse me out. In fact, he didn’t even say a word. I like to think my old man sort of respected my napping prowess and felt that I was simply a chip off the old block! Resting well was part of Dad’s ying and yang - He swore vigorously, but said I love you softly. He drove fast, but took the time to take a nap when he needed one.

Dad never taught me to change my own oil or use a power tool, but he did teach me how to be a man in a different way. Pop taught me to live in the moment and be aggressive in pursuing the things I want in life. He taught me to stand up for those I love and say what I mean. He taught me to move swiftly and with intention, but to recover well. My Father taught me that forgiveness matters more than being right. More than anything, Dad taught me to love fiercely and with my whole heart. I am so very grateful to have learned so much from such a loving father. In the end, love is the only thing you can take with you.

Falling into Place

“When we learn to fall, we learn that only by letting go our grip on all that we ordinarily find most precious—our achievements, our plans, our loved ones, our very selves—can we find, ultimately, the most profound freedom. In the act of letting go of our lives, we return more fully to them." — Philip Simmons

When I was a kid I loved the New York Yankees with all of my heart. My Dad, a New Yorker by birth, brought my brother and me to games while visiting family back east, and in seeing the “House that Ruth built,” it was love at first sight for me. The aura, the tradition, the pinstripes, Babe Ruth and Don Mattingly - what’s not to like about the Bronx Bombers?! The Yankees were perfection and I was going to be their future second baseman. At least that was my plan when I was seven.

At that point, I was enrolled in art class at the Portland Art Museum for the summer, but in seeing the kids out on the local baseball field, I was adamant that my mom let me quit art class and allow me to sign up for little league baseball. She reluctantly agreed. I wasn’t a terrible second baseman, but by the time I was 12 it was pretty clear that Yankee pinstripes weren’t in my future.

In high school and college I was determined to become a successful advertising executive like my father. I studied business, got my marketing degree and even had my own briefcase, just like Dad. And after finishing school, I was a pretty decent ad man and the money was good, but it didn’t feed my soul, so I kept searching.

I left traditional advertising for new media and after a failed ‘Dot-Com’ start up venture in my late twenties, I decided it was high time to figure out what I really wanted to do with my life. After months of soul searching, I landed on acting. I had been an enthusiastic actor in high school and I seemed to have a knack for entertaining others. “Broadway here I come!” I thought to myself. After landing a couple leading roles in local plays, I applied to some of the top Masters programs in the country for acting - Yale, Cal Arts and a few others. But despite my enthusiasm, I didn’t get in to any of them. Still, I persisted with acting, grinding out local theater and independent film productions in Seattle. While I loved the creative process, as the years passed, I also realized that life as a starving artist wasn’t in the long-term cards for me. 

Along the way, I had picked up a job as a personal trainer to feed my acting habit. As someone who was passionate about exercise and a fairly adept communicator, I did well in fitness. I enjoyed coaching and made a decent living, but the job was physically taxing and I felt trapped by the glass ceiling of monetizing hours in the day.

Then the idea occurred to me that instead of chasing passion and purpose, I should settle for stability. I had befriended someone who was a police officer and he made a good living, raked in lots of overtime pay and enjoyed one of the few careers that still provides a guaranteed retirement. Though law enforcement wasn’t really in my creative, free thinking wheelhouse, I liked the idea of helping others and helping myself with a ‘stable’ career. The only problem was, I didn’t get in to the police departments I applied to. Whether the cops didn’t like my critical thought process and ‘question authority’ disposition or I had partied too hard in college, I’ll never know. But at the end of the process, it was clear - I wasn’t going to be a cop.

I stuck with fitness and decided that I would change the world through my natural ability as a personality. I auditioned for and was selected to be an on-camera trainer in a nationally televised series for MTV. Surely this was my big break and I was destined for speaking engagements, on camera work, and life as a celebrity trainer. But it didn’t turn out that way. The show flopped after one season and no one called me to become the next Jack Lalanne or Jillian Michaels.

I decided a change of scenery was necessary. Colorado is a fitness mecca and the vitamin D suited me well. I started blogging and writing and with my creative background, storytelling seemed to flow naturally. I began publishing regularly for fitness magazines and websites. Surely a book deal was right around the corner...But the reality was, writing provided even less income and stability than acting. Back to square one.

As I approached middle age, the prospect of not having a stable and successful career track seemed utterly terrifying. In many ways it still scares the hell out of me. But instead of planning to be the next Derek Jeter, Brad Pitt, or Mickey Spillane, I’ve decided to just be Eric. Instead of trying to figure out my next step, I’ve decided to simply concentrate on trying to live my current step.

I’ve realized, as the quote from Phillip Simmons says, that in order to truly discover my authentic path, I must be willing to let go, stumble and fall…a lot. To that end, I seem to be making progress! Besides, as someone who thought that I had all the answers along the way, not knowing can actually be somewhat liberating. Having a passion and a plan is great, but I’ve also learned through the years that falling and failing is ultimately the only way we truly learn and grow.

Still, the tape in my head continues to play on auto repeat. “What if I’m not that special or talented? What if I never get rich? What if I don’t ever reach that mountaintop? What if I never figure out what I’m supposed to be when I grow up?” These dilemmas have kept me up at many a night. 

But falling and failing has taught me two things: I will get back up and I will keep going. Furthermore, it is life’s failures that forge our character and give us meaning. 

My brother had the world by the balls before a massive medical issue at 30 changed his career, personal life and lifestyle. While he had to let go of his hobbies as an avid rock climber and motorcycle enthusiast and ended up leaving a high-income job, he said hello to a lifelong commitment to his wife and his faith. As my brother learned, cool motorcycles, nice houses and fancy vacations are great, but they aren’t the meaning of life. Nor is a decorative title or a ‘successful’ career.

I’ve realized, just like my brother, that what is really important is loving my wife, family and those close to me. What’s important is contributing to my community and deepening my relationship with the Divine. That is the meaning of life.

I’m now in yet another new career in hospitality. I like helping others and hope to help build a brand at some point in wellness fused with hospitality. But by now, I’ve learned enough to know that plans change and in the meantime, life happens. Instead of planning for future success, I’m now trying more so to listen in the present.

Falling (and failing) has been a mixed blessing in my life. Sometimes it’s tempting to feel sorry for myself for not having reached the pinnacle of what society deems as success. But life doesn’t work that way. There is no mountaintop, only climbing and falling. On the journey, if we’re lucky, we live and learn and fall in love. To that end I am super fortunate to have lived, learned and loved. I’m still not sure what I want to be when I grow up, but I know I’ll keep trying, failing and getting back up along the way.

The Middle Children of History

 “We’re the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War’s a spiritual war…our Great Depression is our lives. We’ve all been raised on television to believe that one day we’d all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won’t. And we’re slowly learning that fact.”  ― Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club 

By now it’s not news to you that we have an opioid epidemic that kills more Americans each year than died during the entire duration of the Vietnam War. It’s not news that obesity has become a pandemic across our nation killing an estimated 300,000 people annually. It’s not news that depression and suicide are at all time highs in our country with some 45,000 people taking their own lives each year. It’s not news to you that despite living in an age of unprecedented technological advances, we actually have declining life expectancy in our nation. We are increasingly addicted to our food, our phones, our booze and our prescription drugs. We even ‘binge’ watch our television. But none of that is news.

Our collective anxiety, addiction, escapism, and desperation is no longer newsworthy, for the vast majority of us are personally battling these afflictions on some level whether individually or through our circle of loved ones. What is newsworthy is that despite fighting the war on drugs, war on fat, and war on terror, none of these societal conflicts are helping us live longer happier lives. The big news story isn’t the what, but the why.

So just why are we depressed, addicted, overweight and unhappy? After all, we live in the richest nation on earth at the most prosperous time in history. Technology makes our lives so efficient that few of us have to actually labor strenuously to find food, shelter or even entertainment. The answer is simple, and yet complex. We feel separate from each other and live in polarizing times because we are separate from ourselves. We are out of alignment.   

If you watch the news and pay attention to those in power politically and economically, the answers to our dilemmas come in convenient packages with straight forward answers - Obesity will be solved by burning calories, jobs and personal safety will be protected by building walls, drug addiction will be solved by locking up drug dealers and seizing the supply of illegal drugs. But deep down, no matter where you lie on the political and philosophical spectrum, we all know this is a lie. None of these short-sided ‘answers’ really address the why’s behind the what.

The proof is in the pudding. Despite our protectionist tendencies and efforts to save our jobs, both machines and other countries continue to take our jobs at an alarming pace. Despite a decades-long war on drugs focusing on locking up drug dealers and seizing drugs, this fight has had zero impact on drug consumption and addiction. Despite more and more joining gyms fueling the fitness industry’s unprecedented double-digit growth for the past 30-years, the burning calories approach has had no impact on the amount of overweight and obese Americans. These are failed approaches because they don’t address the underlying causes of our ailments.

We need to stop addressing the ‘what’ and start tackling the ‘why’ behind these issues. The reason we are overweight, unhappy and depressed is because many of us lack purpose, meaning and a feeling of true fulfillment in our lives. Great meals, engrossing entertainment and fine wine won’t solve our emptiness. Ironically, our escapism only exacerbates our pain. No matter how fast we run on the treadmill of life, the belt keeps going and at some point we have to get off and face the pain, guilt and shame of our own emptiness.

Facing the why means waging a “spiritual war” as Chuck Palahniuk states. Or as Gandhi famously said, “each one of us has to find his peace from within.” But many aren’t willing to wage that war. We’re too distracted and comfortable to be bothered. We’re too busy complaining about the system being broken that we don’t actually organize and mobilize to find real solutions. It’s much easier to blame the left if you’re on the right (or vice versa), to blame the drug dealers if you’re a drug user and to blame the calories if you’re overweight. These simplistic narratives have proven to be failed approaches and continue to do nothing to advance our cause as a society.

More than 150 years ago, Henry David Thoreau prophesized this dynamic. His haunting quote about despair and its correlation to amusement also contains the remedy (wisdom). “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation…A stereotyped but unconscious despair is concealed even under what are called the games and amusements of mankind. There is no play in them, for this comes after work. But it is a characteristic of wisdom not to do desperate things.”

The time has come to reject the notions of addiction and corruption and break out of our quiet lives of desperation. As “middle children of history,” our fight isn’t a black and white one like the wars and moral battles of our grandparents and great grandparents. Addiction, depression and even political gridlock aren’t solved with walls, diet plans and simply choosing the lesser of two evils. They are solved in the stillness of our hearts, in selfless community-driven efforts and in relationship with the Divine.

We must wage new wars in fighting the powerful and corrupt while at the same time holding ourselves to the same level of accountability. We must stand up to monopolies of thought and monopolies of commerce and political power. We must fight against systemic injustices like fake food and aggressive marketing campaigns that promote massive consumption and in turn, addiction.

The answers in these seemingly hopeless times will only present themselves if we are first willing to address the why’s behind the what. Waging such a spiritual war is not about choosing sides, but about finding a ‘third’ way and through the process of “kenosis” or self-emptying. It is only when we empty our lives that we can be truly receptive to God’s will. It is only through emptiness that we can find wholeness. It’s only by finding ourselves individually that we can band together and truly forge a path for peace collectively.

The Fear of Living

According to the Chapman University Survey on American Fears, a corrupt government is now the number one fear for people in our country. Other top worrisome concerns for Americans include pollution, those close to them dying/getting sick and not having enough money.

In our modern turbulent world, it’s curious but perhaps not surprising that these new fears have replaced the more ‘traditional’ fears of dying and public speaking. We now fear the environment around us (both literally and figuratively) more than our own internal fears. We fear the economic environment, the ecological environment the political environment. In a telling sign of the times, five of the top ten fears are also now related to ecological issues like pollution and global warming.

For many years, the most common fears were “phobias” such as: social phobias (public speaking or going to parties), arachnophobia (spiders) arcophobia (heights), pteromerhanophobia (flying), claustrophobia (small confined spaces), ophidiophobia (snakes), trypanophobia (needles) and so on. And, of course, the grand daddy of all primal fears (death, or those closest to us dying).

While we still fear dying and losing those nearest to us, what we really seem to fear more than ever is living. It seems almost counter-intuitive, but many now fear living even more than dying. Considering the nature of things these days, this actually makes some sense.

Life in the year 2018 seems vastly uncertain, utterly confusing, and most of all, completely vulnerable. Attack of every sort seems imminent - cyber attack, data breaches, terrorism, civil unrest, environmental collapse, financial meltdown, pollution, identity theft, drought, fires, mass shootings, devastating floods and storms.

One could contend that our modern existence boils down to an obsessive state of worry and constant rumination about these disheartening dilemmas: How will we make a living? How will we pay our medical bills, how will we find clean water, how will our corrupt government protect us? Is it safe to go to church or the mall?

Moreover, the nature of our habitually plugged in lives perpetuates this never-ending cycle of doom and gloom. We seem to be in a hopeless and powerless state marked by environmental collapse, the erosion of jobs to machines, futile political polarization and gridlock, the decline of civil discourse and the epidemic of loneliness – Why should we fear flying and snakes, when life is this scary!?!

It’s enough to drive one to drink or look the other direction at something bright, shiny and pleasant. So, that is exactly what many of us do – we numb. We incessantly surf, scroll, browse, and shop. We text, Snapchat, and Tweet. We dull our pain and anxiety with booze and opiates. We watch TV, Netflix, Hulu, Amazon Prime. We travel or participate in ‘experience driven’ vacations to escape the busyness, boredom and fear of our ordinary lives. We brood over sports, scandal, and celebrity gossip. In short, we do anything to flee from reality because it’s just too damn scary and uncertain.

It’s a daunting task in this day and age to ponder the nature of the immense problems of living (let alone come up with possible solutions). It’s no wonder we’re driven to so much distraction. Regardless of whether our fear is living or dying, many react with the same mantra – “run like hell.”

Sometimes when I stop and think about the really good parts of being alive in this era, I can only come up with one thing - food. The food is really good. Craft food, farm to table restaurants, the organic movement, specialty food stores, authentic food trucks, what’s not to like? I can only imagine future conversations in Heaven or the next dimension with former relatives or those from other times:

Q: “So, what was life like back in the 2000’s?”

A: “Well, it was terrifying, but the food was excellent!”

Yeah, and at least the music was good on the Titanic, right? Indeed, it’s hard not to be a flippant skeptic in this day and age, and yet there is a way out of the despair and subsequent numbing. The recipe for curing hopelessness is love. Specifically, the love of one self.

Gandhi famously said: “You must be the change you wish to see in the world.” 

In the book of Luke, Christ commanded: “The kingdom of God is within you.”

The Dalai Lama said that peace: “Starts within each one of us.”

The foundational element for a true peace of mind is love. Whether your peace means justice, bringing about the end of conflict, environmental harmony, freedom from worry over financial concerns, or the trials of health and happiness - Solving all these dilemmas starts within the confines of our own self-love. Whatever your belief construct is or whomever you pray to, the path to a fulfillment of peace is clear - The only way to calm the tumultuous waters that we are currently navigating collectively is for us to each seek inner peace and grace individually.

Like many these days, I too am worried about the future as I am worried about the now. But I have begun to see that my biggest personal task and contribution is to seek and forge my own path for peace. We must begin to see that the acute dilemmas of our time are exacerbated by the biggest trial of the day – distraction from our internal conflicts.

The real fear of living isn’t about external phobias, societal collapse or the threat of our own demise. Rather, the root of this fear is about the willingness to confront our own shadows of shame, trauma and guilt. The journey starts with the willingness to embrace both the sharpness of pain and dullness of stillness. As overwhelming as our current obstacles may seem, each one of us has a crystal clear path in solving the crisis of communal fear – facing our own.

The Safety Dance

As a toddler in the 70’s, one thing that was noticeably absent whenever I was riding around in the car with my parents was a car seat. In fact, I didn’t even wear a seatbelt. Instead, I used to sit on the center armrest in the front seat. Apparently, I liked the view up there and the closer proximity to Mom and Dad made for more robust conversation. 

Just imagine the uproar these days of seeing a toddler riding in a car down the street just inches from the windshield without so much as a car seat or even a seat belt providing protection. The ordeal would be national news and the parents would surely be sent to prison! But back in my formative years, no one seemed to give a damn. And it wasn’t just the seat belt either. The 70’s and 80’s were like the Wild West for kids growing up in that era. No seat belts, no scrutiny and no supervision.

Not to throw my parents under the bus, mind you. Loose parenting was without a doubt the norm in my day. Like most kids back then, I learned to ride a bike without a bike helmet. I learned to ski without a helmet as well. Every kid I knew ate peanuts (and gluten, lactose and everything else we could inhale). Most kids were a bit hyper and yet, as far as I knew, none were regularly medicated.

As grade-schoolers, my friends and I walked to the bus stop unaccompanied by parents. We rode our bikes around the neighborhood and all over town. As pre driving teenagers, we regularly took the bus downtown to hangout. All activities were unsupervised and there were no cell phones or other means of direct communication with actual adults. We were simply told to be home by dinner.

Not that there weren’t legitimate dangers to be concerned with. The violent crime rate in the 1980’s was significantly higher than it is now. I knew two kids that died from ski accidents. A family friend lost their son to drunk driving. One kid in my high school was hit by a train and killed. Several kids from a local school were killed in a tragic mountaineering accident. 

Indeed there were good reasons to be at least somewhat fearful back then and yet we were seemingly oblivious to danger. It’s a wonder I survived! All joking aside, society back in the day needed to get its act together where it came to safety, supervision and street smarts. Fortunately, we did.

In the past 30 years, seat belts have saved countless lives. Helmets have prevented many deaths and serious life altering injuries. Prominent media campaigns like MADD (Mothers Against Drunk Driving) helped bring about positive changes in attitudes and legislation to combat impaired driving. Social attitudes have vastly improved as well. For instance, gay kids and other marginalized groups didn’t enjoy the freedom and respect back then that they do now. Thanks to an evolution in thought and action, life has become safer and in many ways, better. 

However, while the 70’s and 80’s were a bit too reckless and nonchalant, the pendulum has swung too far in the other direction. Fear now permeates almost every facet of our culture. Parents don’t let their kids outside unaccompanied because of fearing kidnappers and rapists. We fear immigrants as dangerous criminals and opportunists looking to steal our jobs. We fear terrorism. We fear people using the wrong bathrooms. We even fear peanuts and gluten. Many, if not most of these topical fears have almost no reasonable basis or factual substantiation. We’re obsessed with danger and paralyzed by fear, but the reality is we have never been safer. Consider the following statistics:

• According to the FBI, violent crime rate in the US fell 48% between 1993 and 2016.

• In the year October 2010-September 2011, there were only 105 kidnappings (65 abducted by complete strangers) that year out of a population of 73.9 million children.

• Not including the tragedy of 9/11, there are an average of just two Americans killed by (jihadist) terrorism every year. Consider that 69 people are killed by lawnmowers every year in our country!

• An estimated 1% of Americans (approximately 3 million people) have celiac disease. 3 million people is far from insubstantial, but more than 30 million Americans avoid gluten despite no indication that they are sensitive to gluten or any evidence that it’s healthier for you.

• In the decade from 1996-2006, the CDC documented a total of 13 child deaths from peanut exposure. Certainly, any death of a child is tragic, but because of thirteen deaths in 10 years, we’ve changed our entire nationwide scholastic and cultural approach to nutrition.

We don’t connect the dots of our media-driven, fear-based culture and how it’s making us inept, impotent and frankly, soft. We’re weak where we need to toughen up and we’re distracted or ignorant where it comes to the actual legitimate fears we should be concerned with.

• Despite a tragic and pronounced epidemic of addiction, no one seems to notice the correlation that many kids (and adults) are more heavily medicated than ever. Furthermore, no one seems to mind the constant bombardment of aggressive advertising touting highly addictive substances from processed sugar to alcohol to prescription drugs.

• Despite the alarming trend of growing suicide rates, we pay little attention to the compulsive nature of screen time and social media, which are correlated with depression and anxiety.

• Despite guns killing almost 1300 kids each year and the appalling epidemic of mass shootings and school shootings, we’re too self absorbed and politically polarized to actually get anything done about it.

• Despite a massive looming threat from the critical state of the environment, many are unwilling to adjust their lifestyle and consumption habits. 

The obvious question we should be asking related to issues of safety is the query “Is It working?” Seat belts undoubtedly work. Without question, bike and ski helmets work. But ‘safe’ zones and ‘helicopter' parenting do nothing but perpetuate a culture of fear and ineptitude. Prescription drug ads do nothing but create a frenzy of drug use and abuse.

False ideologies on both sides of the political spectrum are to blame for our coddled and contemptuous society. Many shamefully fear monger by demonizing those that look, pray and love differently. Others left lack courage in standing up to political correctness run amok. We are now a nation of wimps and whiners thanks in large part to the unintended consequences of overparenting and the ridiculous notion of “safetyism.” 

The fact is we are much safer than we think from the issues that garner the most attention like crime and terrorism. Yet paradoxically, we’re also in much more danger than we’re aware from the issues that lurk beneath the surface of popular thought. While we’re busy fretting over immigrants, terrorists and peanuts, threats of our own psyche (addiction, mental health and suicide) are literally killing us. Because of these threats, for the second year in a row, as a nation we are facing a declining life expectancy.

If we are to succeed personally, culturally and environmentally, we need a balanced approach to fear and safety. I’m not advocating for a return to the careless attitudes of my free-swinging childhood. But it’s time to bring that pendulum back to the center if just a bit. It’s time for us to face the music and stand up to fear instead of promoting and succumbing to it.

Mental Slavery – The American Nightmare

I am proud to call myself an American. I’m honored to live in a country that stands for freedom, not to mention the great human spirits of innovation, opportunity and creativity. From the Declaration of Independence to cultural contributions that have benefitted all of mankind, we Americans have a lot to be proud of.

The “American Dream” serves as an example that many across the globe look to emulate. My ancestors emigrated to the United States from Germany and Scandinavia to establish and demonstrate that dream in all of its glory. In addition to providing opportunity and freedom for its citizenry, America has also upheld these values for much of humanity. Many Americans, including some of my relatives, have fought against the evils of tyranny and fascism, putting their lives on the line in the name of justice and liberty.  

But the greatness of the most successful republic in history is also contrasted and tainted by an ugly ball and chain of oppression. For all of America’s countless moral victories, paradoxically we have also enslaved millions. From the genocide of American Indians, to the enslavement of African Americans to Japanese American internment in WWII, you cannot talk American history without acknowledging the ‘American nightmare’ of slavery.

Thankfully, the concept of literal bondage and ‘physical’ slavery is largely a thing of the past in our country. However, an arguably worse and dubious carnage lurks in the shadows of modern America – ‘mental’ slavery. One cannot observe a news headline these days without running into the concept of subjugation of thought. Addiction, obesity, suicide, mass shootings and even the compulsive nature of social media are all examples of mental enslavement.

Throughout the course of history, popular thought accepted that certain races and cultures were subhuman, genetically different and inferior (and therefore worthy of mistreatment and enslavement). As humanity has evolved, most have come to see the thinking that brought about mass enslavement as a fabricated myth and a devious lie. We can largely agree that all human beings are truly equal and share an unlimited capacity for love and goodness regardless of color or creed.

However, while we as a civilization and society have made tremendous strides in the concept of physical slavery, we’ve yet to fully acknowledge the nefarious underlying suggestions that bring about mental captivity. The crux of mental slavery is less malicious and harder to spot. Instead of overt hatred and judgment, the conditions that bring about the confinement of thought are more subliminal in nature.

Notably, the pervasive and constant dopamine loops that permeate our constantly connected world can promote an obsessive sense of tribalism. That is, labeling one another as genetically unique, different or damaged. While commonplace, this type of thinking also carries the risk of addiction and misery, as many become slaves to their own labels.

Says best selling author and professor of ethical leadership at NYU Jonathan Haidt, “Applying labels to people can create what is called a looping effect. It can change the behavior of the person being labeled and become a self-fulfilling prophecy. This is part of why labeling is such a powerful cognitive distortion.” Psychology tells us that repetition can breed familiarity, but redundancy can also breed mesmerism and addiction. It only takes so many times of being told you’re sick, different or depressed before you start to believe it.

‘Something is wrong with everyone’ is the generally and commonly held belief. Beyond the construct of individual responsibility inherent in accepting this belief, the media and many corporations also perpetuate the notion that you are a slave to your body and your genes. Case in point, prescription drug advertisements that target anyone and everyone - surely, there must be at least one affliction that requires you taking a drug for the rest of your life! According to the British Medical Journal, for every dollar spent on research and development, pharmaceutical companies spend $19 on advertising! With our media inspired, drug-infused culture, is there any we wonder we have such a tragic and pronounced opioid epidemic?  

But this isn’t just the case with drugs. Heavy people are told to get their act together and shape up, yet they’re also fed a heavy dose of direct to consumer advertising promoting sugary beverages, fast food and outright junk. Children are told they deserve trophies and can be anything they want to be, all the while being held to models of unattainable physical and intellectual perfection.

We mass market toxins to our populace and wonder why we’re sick. At the same time, we market drugs, pills and potions that supposedly combat these ailments yet never quite heal or cure our afflictions. We accept our mental shackles (labels as addicts, sick or having the wrong genes) like sheep being led to the slaughter. The way out is to refute and stand up to such aggressive and misguided suggestions. You are your genes and your circumstances only up to a point.

Sick people need comprehensive care and fully functional medicine, not just the promise of quick fixes and pills. We should demand our doctors ask us about our lives, rather than demanding medications from them as we’re instructed to do on television. Heavy people need empathy and education, not the burden of shame or misguided allure of temporary ‘solutions.’ The poor and downtrodden need compassion, not contempt. Societal tragedies such as mass shootings and homelessness need to be treated as urgent mental health issues, not just chalked up as the new normalcy and the plight of someone else’s problem.

Being completely absorbed with our own self image, passions and desires leads to bondage. Breaking the chains of mental slavery means standing up for something greater than the self and feeding one’s own ego (there is a reason that the tenets of addiction treatment calls for the recognition of and reliance on a higher power). To heal and find wholeness, we must instead serve others and God first. As it says in Second Corinthians, “Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty.”

We all bear some responsibility for standing up to the evils of slavery, be it mental or physical. The answers don’t come in convenient packages or pills. The answers don’t come in labeling and pointing fingers at each other. Real freedom comes when the hypnotic influence of false thinking is unmasked. Freedom is truth.

The Driver’s Seat

Memory lane is perhaps the most traveled street on the planet. Many of us travel down it frequently because nostalgia and familiarity breeds a comforting and calming reassurance. Dwelling and reminiscing on the cozy cul-de-sacs of our childhood, holding on to the gratification of youth and beauty, or replaying the glory of past successes can warm the heart. But reliving and recalling the familiar can also bring about bitter regret from past mistakes, disappointments suffered and even decisions not made.

Looking back is natural, but doing so is also dangerous, for the windshield of life is in front of us. Looking where we’ve been can inform, but at a certain point, the only way to ‘drive’ is to be wholly present and make our decisions based on what we encounter on the ‘road.’ You can’t look at the rearview mirror and the windshield at the same time.

When we look back, we replay the same tape on auto-repeat and in the process we get stuck on the road to nowhere. For every individual sitting at the corner bar telling tales of the high school championship won, there are dozens more ruminating on the game lost, the dropped pass or being cut from the team. The sting of defeat and the devastation of disappointment can occupy the thoughts and actions of many for a lifetime.

Looking through the rearview takes our gaze off the road and focuses on the objects behind us with potentially dangerous consequence. Addiction, unhealthy relationships and unfulfilling careers are just a few examples of the steep cost of looking back. When we look back in anger, are consumed by regret or when we ignore our past traumas and transgressions, tragically, history has a way of repeating itself.

Conversely, many also overshoot the windshield relying solely on the navigation system. In doing so, our gaze is perpetually fixated on the end goal and destination down the road. The cousin of preoccupation with the past is a devious mental obsession with the future. This approach is marked by the mantra “when I get there” (I’ll be happy, complete, or find peace of mind). But looking too far ahead, like looking behind us, is a dangerous driving trap as well.

Granted, it’s a good thing to know where you’ve been and it’s smart to have a mapped out route for the direction you’re headed. We must use the rearview mirror wisely and cautiously to occasionally scan what is behind us to make sure the coast is clear of hazards from our past.  We must also plug our coordinates in the navigation system to make sure we stay on track and correctly identify the obstacles that might impede our progress along the way. After all, your car comes equipped with a rearview mirror and navigation system for a reason! But make no mistake, the real work is directly in front of us. Driving, like life, is about the present, the now, and what is immediate.

Recently, former NBA legend Kobe Bryant spoke about dealing with injury and what it takes to successfully overcome it: “The most important part is not looking at the finish line. It’s so far away, it’s like starting at the base of Everest and you’re looking up at the summit. That’s big.”

Injury is metaphorical of what it means to be stuck in the past or transfixed solely on the future. We all suffer injuries, whether physical, heartbreak, or profound disappointment. In assessing injury, many use the rearview mirror. But this approach is constrained by the self-centered and egoic notions ‘why me?’ or the negatives of guilt, blame and shame. Others take yet an opposite approach in addressing injury by pretending the past doesn’t exist. But as Kobe Bryant points out, a shear focus on reaching the mountaintop is problematic as well. Navigating only in the future can be hampered by the paralysis of fear (what if I fail, what if I never heal, what if I end up in the wrong destination, what comes after I reach my goal?).

Indeed, whether it’s the obstacles behind us, or our goals in front of us, they often seem to be ‘Mt. Everest’s’ - that is, overwhelming and all consuming. Many times in life, it seems we can only see the daunting peak down the road or the valley far behind us. In doing so, the blind spot ends up becoming what is directly in front of us!

Ultimately the only way to operate our vehicles is in the now. To drive the mile we’re on. In the addiction recovery world, they have a saying, “play the tape forward.” They don’t say ‘keep looking behind you’ or ‘make a plan to stay sober forever.’ Instead, the mantra is, ‘the only choice that matters is the choice you make now.’ In order to get there safely, we have no option but to operate our vehicles right here in the moment.

It’s clear that no matter what past sins we’ve committed or what direction we hope to head in the future, the work is ultimately about today and the road directly in front of us. While sometimes you have to put it in reverse and sometimes you have to pull over to check the map, when it comes to what to do next, there’s only one path - forward. 

Midlife

“Midlife is not about the fear of death. Midlife is death. Tearing down the walls that we spent our entire life building is death. Like it or not, at some point during midlife, you’re going down, and after that, there are only two choices: staying down or enduring rebirth.”  -  Brené Brown

We’ve all heard the term “midlife crisis.” Some might associate the phrase with the man who buys the fancy red sports car or leaves his wife for a younger woman. Midlife might also be thought of as the woman, who after decades of raising kids, decides it’s finally time to get her body (and life) back - She joins the gym, hires the trainer and gets plastic surgery to feel the vitality and freedom of youth once again. Though there are countless connotations and instances, these examples point to the stereotypical reaction for many to the midlife crisis – a change of personal or material circumstance.

In some ways, society sees such changes as positives. It’s considered noble to improve your body at any age. It’s thought of as admirable to find new love even if it’s at the expense of your previous love. And in our culture, red sports cars, while maybe a bit douchey, are highly coveted.

But regardless of the changes we make to alter our present material state, deep down we know what eventually awaits us. The truth is, there isn’t a sports car fast enough, a partner young and attractive enough, or a body strong and defined enough to protect you from life’s setbacks and the travails of aging. In the long run, you cannot trade your current ‘model’ in for a better, sexier, or younger one. Facing your aging self, failures, and mortality is something everyone must eventually grapple with. You can’t outrun your shadow no matter how fast you run on the treadmill of life.

Still, many of us desperately flee from the inevitability of midlife and the traumas associated with aging and loss. But midlife isn’t just about physical decline or only reserved for those in their 40’s and 50’s. Anyone who suffers a crisis of identity can feel the burdens of midlife. John Mayer even used the term “quarter life crisis” in his song “Why Georgia.”

How we define ourselves in things like our relationships and professional identities will morph over time. Our physicality will also change like the seasons. Such profound change can spark a sense of crisis in many. Personally speaking (though I am literally facing midlife as I write this) the ‘midlife’ crisis is not a new concept for me. Whether it was traumatic physical setbacks like reconstructive ear and rotator cuff surgeries in my 20’s, a significant career transition in my 30’s or divorce in my 40’s, I’ve learned that the daunting prospect of massive life change is a part of any stage of life, not just midlife.

One of the paradoxes of getting older is that we seek to reverse or slow aging and uncertainty through avenues and material things that we feel we can directly control - our body, money, relationships or professional status. But at the end of the day, the notion of control in any of these arenas is a fallacy. Money can’t protect you from disease, injury or heartbreak. Even the best, most fulfilling job in the world at some point will run its course. Relationships evolve, change and eventually end. And, as the laws of physics and gravity dictate, the race against your aging body is not a winnable one. Try as we might, as Brené Brown suggests, “you’re going down.”

You ultimately have the choice to go down kicking and screaming or you can accept your next chapter with grace and surrender to the notion of rebirth.

As athletes know all too well, defining life by your physical capabilities is a young person’s game. I’ve often wondered what the aging star athlete sitting at the end of the bench thinks as the clock keeps ticking. What questions does she ask – ‘Who am I?’ ‘What’s next?’ ‘How do I start the next chapter?’ These are questions all of us must ask at some point. Each life crisis we face whether quarterlife, midlife or old age all bring forth opportunities for rejuvenation, renewal and reawakening.

In the Bible it’s clear that ‘rebirth’ is a necessary step in spiritual evolution. Yet starting anew isn’t confined by the physical constraints of aging. It isn’t physical strength or abundant material resources that are requirements for a fresh start, but the vitality of a youthful and humble disposition. And when it comes to spiritual rebirth it isn’t by planning, controlling, or seeking new answers that we grow, but by the willingness to ask new questions. Midlife isn’t a crisis we must endure, but an opportunity to evolve our state of mind.

At a recent crossroads in my life a few years ago, a friend suggested reading the book Falling Upward by Richard Rohr commenting that the questions I was asking were ‘second half’ questions. Rohr’s book asserts that there are essentially two ‘halves’ of life - The first half is characterized by worldly pillars of power, comfort and recognition. We spend this first half of life constructing and filling up our “containers.” That is, pursuing status and professional success, establishing defined roles (as friend, spouse, relative or parent) and compiling worldly possessions. Rohr describes such first half actions as “rising, achieving accomplishing, and performing.”

Conversely, the second half is about self-emptying and the willingness to let go of our earthly definitions. The second half is characterized by the actions of contemplation and surrender and by the willingness to wrestle with purpose-driven, existential queries. Though Jung first popularized the term “two halves,” instead of relating the notion to aging, Rohr likens the second half as having the courage to let go of ego. Meister Eckhart captured the essence of the second half eloquently, stating,“To be full of things is to be empty of God. To be empty of things is to be full of God.”

While the search for meaning and moving beyond our ego can be seen as a terrifying downward spiral for some, Rohr actually calls this process “falling upward.” But even if you don’t buy the spiritual notion of the ‘second half,’ anyone can buy into the concept of staying young at heart. While we will all likely encounter physical challenges, loss, fractured relationships and career setbacks, we needn’t suffer lasting mental anguish and an ‘elderly’ state of mind. As Robert F. Kennedy once said, “This world demands the qualities of youth; not a time of life but a state of mind, a temper of the will, a quality of the imagination, a predominance of courage over timidity, of the appetite for adventure over the life of ease.”

Not to completely dismiss the first half mind you. I’ve spent the better part of my life in pursuit of my professional identity, health and a fit body. Certainly, I enjoy the fruits of my labors and cherish my close relationships and my roles as a son, friend, brother, and husband. Filling up our ‘containers’ is natural and responsible. But jobs, possessions, relationships and even experiences don’t define the real essence of us - qualities do.

Facing midlife is about having the courage to let go of material desires and the resolution to replace that drive with a different type of tenacity. As Rohr suggests, the mark of rebirth is to be “grounded, not guarded” in giving our authentic gifts.

Falling or getting knocked down is a part of life and for many, an acute crisis in midlife. Getting back up with humility, an open heart and the desire for rebirth is our true task at any stage of life.