Not-So-Grim Reaper

Cyrus McCormick, who invented the reaper and founded the company that became International Harvester, was a generous contributor to Chicago’s Presbyterian Theological School. Because of that fact, the school later changed its name to McCormick Theological Seminary. Faculty and students have quipped that death is never referred to as “The Grim Reaper” at McCormick, but always as “The International Harvester.”

“Grim” is not a word which describes the experience of many people who find themselves nearing life’s end. Like Dr. Abraham Maslow commented after a heart attack which made him realize that his own death was not far away: “Death, and its ever-present possibility makes love, passionate love, more possible.  I wonder if we could love passionately, if ecstasy would be possible at all, if we knew we’d never die.”

Likewise, psychiatrist Irvin Yalom, who worked with terminally ill cancer patients, reported that “grimness” was far from their attitudes about passing on. Yalom tells us that once his patients accepted the fact that their lives were rapidly drawing to an end, positive and exciting changes occurred. He reports that they felt a sense of freedom to do what they wanted to do. Furthermore, they lived in the present and enjoyed it more. They found themselves appreciating the world around them in ways they never had before. They communicated more deeply with loved ones and actually looked forward to holidays in joyous anticipation.

Because these people knew they were dying, they figured out how to live. Nothing grim here. They came alive in ways never before possible. Like one dying woman said to me, “Life sparkles.”

Oh, maybe you don’t want to volunteer to hop on that bus today, but we’ll each set off on the journey soon enough. And from what I can tell, it promises to be an exciting adventure. But in the meantime, what if you set out to start living now as if your short days here were truly numbered? When “The International Harvester” knocks on your door, may it be opened by somebody who didn’t wait until it was time to die to learn how to live.

-- Steve Goodier

Image: flickr.com/lrutherford03

A Recipe for “Success”

Do you know what you really need? I’m not talking about material things. I mean, what do you need to make your life all you want it to be?

Author Stephen Covey says that people all share a few essential needs: the need to live, the need to love, the need to learn and the need to leave a legacy.

When he says we need to live, he is not talking about physical health. It’s certainly important to breathe, but in many ways it may be even more important to live a full and whole life. Indian mystic Osho says, “The real question is not whether life exists after death. The real question is whether you are alive before death.” A question I ask myself is, “Am I just going through the motions or am I really living my life?” I don’t want to live on the outside while I'm dying, little by little, on the inside.

Covey also says we need to love. And I believe we also need to be loved. Both are important. I am coming to appreciate that my relationships with other people may be the most significant reason for either my happiness or my unhappiness throughout my life. Studies show that social connection is vital if we are to be happy.

Then Covey tells us that we need to learn. And learning does not stop once we leave school and enter the workforce. I don’t ever want to stop growing and, hopefully, improving. I want to be a life-long learner. There is so much to discover in the world; I am saddened I can only learn the smallest fraction of it in one lifetime.

Finally, we need to leave a legacy. It’s not about leaving money. I want my life to count for something, even if it seems small in comparison to some others. I truly appreciate this thought often attributed to Ralph Waldo Emerson. It may be that he did not actually pen these words, but they are nevertheless wise and worth repeating.

 “To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty; to find the best in others; to leave the world a little bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded.”

How do you measure up? Are you living fully, loving completely, learning constantly and planning to leave a worthwhile legacy?

This is a recipe for “success” in the truest form of the word.

-- Steve Goodier

Image: flickr.com/EvaSwensen

The Big Question

I have a friend who learned something new about grizzly bears, or the brown bear, as it is often called. He recently traveled to Alaska and did some hiking. He was told to protect himself from brown bears by wearing tiny bells on his clothing. He said the bells warn away MOST bears. He was also cautioned to observe the ground on the trail, paying particular attention to bear droppings. If fresh bear scat should be spotted, he was warned to stay alert to the presence of grizzlies. With a twinkle in his eye he added, “You can tell when the droppings come from grizzly bears because of the tiny bells in them.”

I suppose if he worried too much about bears, he might miss out on some of the fun of hiking. Best not to become overly-concerned about everything that could possibly go wrong, like spooking a grizzly bear. After all, even in the best hikes, one has to take a few risks. But seasoned hikers know that the payoff is usually worth it. 

Author and environmentalist Edward Abbey was speaking about hiking as well as life when he said, “May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view.” To arrive at someplace amazing, the trek may be difficult and we must be prepared to accept some risks along the way. Especially if we’re following our heart into unknown territory or attempting something bigger than we’ve ever tried before. Of course, we can always choose an easier path, one that is more comfortable and safer, but we may not like where we end up nearly as much. 

Like Joseph Campbell said when speaking of following your bliss through life: “The big question is whether you are going to be able to say a hearty yes to your adventure.” 

That IS the big question, isn’t it? Will we say a hearty yes to our adventure? To a full, rich and well-lived life? One thing I know: the path may be tricky and even treacherous at times, but it will be worth it.

--Steve Goodier

Image: flickr.com/marneejill

Have You Lost the Dead Part Yet?

I am discovering that many people want, above all else, to live life fully. Or at least to get more out of life. But sometimes the past gets in the way. Unhealed hurts and unnecessary guilt too often suck the life out of people.

Here is a great visual. A schoolteacher tells about when he entered his room a few minutes early and noticed a mealworm laboriously crawling along the floor. It had somehow been injured. The back part of the worm was dead and dried up, but still attached to the front, living part by just a thin thread.

As the teacher studied the strange sight of a poor worm pulling its dead half across the floor, a little girl ran in and noticed it there. Picking it up, she said, “Oh, Oscar, when are you going to lose that dead part so you can really live?”

She could be asking that question to any of us. For you, too, may be dragging around something that you should have left behind long ago. Maybe anger over a past incident. Or some long-ago hurt of betrayal. Maybe you’re dragging around feelings of guilt brought about by poor decisions you’ve lived with for so long you hardly know how to feel without them. 

What an important question for each of us - when are you going to lose that dead part so you can really live? When are you going to let the past BE the past? All the memories of the past that steal your peace today should not be allowed in the present. If you’ve been dragging around something that is dead, it’s time to choose life.  

Let the child's question be your question: “When are you going to lose the dead part so you can really live?” Answering that question today may be the most important thing you have done in a long time.


-- Steve Goodier

These Are the Only Times I’ve Got

Can you believe it? This poem was actually published in The Saturday Evening Post in 1949, under the title, “Time of the Mad Atom.” See if it sounds familiar.

This is the age

Of the half-read page.

And the quick hash

And the mad dash.

The bright night

With the nerves tight.

The plane hop

With the brief stop.

The lamp tan

In a short span.

The Big Shot

In a good spot.

And the brain strain

The heart pain.

And the cat naps

Till the spring snaps −

And the fun’s done!

It seems that people were as frantic then as they are now.

Many years ago James Lachard (pen name for John James Brown) wrote a piece called “An Interview with God.” In it, the narrator asks God, “What surprises you most about mankind?”

God’s answer is telling: “Man. Because he sacrifices his health in order to make money. Then he sacrifices money to recuperate his health. And then he is so anxious about the future that he does not enjoy the present; the result being that he does not live in the present or the future; he lives as if he is never going to die, and then dies having never really lived.”

Are we so driven to make a living that we can’t make a life? Are we so anxious about what might happen tomorrow that we miss what is happening today? What if we decided that today is too important not to cherish?

I don’t want to get addicted to being busy. And I don’t want to die before I’ve ever really lived. To paraphrase Art Buchwald, whether these are the worst of times or the best of times, I know these are the only times I’ve got, and I want to live them with intention.

I think I can start that today. -- Steve Goodier

Image: flickr.com/ukg.photographerflickr.com/ukg.photographer

I Had a Wonderful Time

I have a collection of humorous and poignant epitaphs and tombstone verses. I find it interesting to note what is said about someone who has recently died. Granted, not all tombstone sayings are telling. Like the one for Lester Moore at Boot Hill Cemetery in Tombstone, Arizona:

HERE LIES LESTER MOORE

FOUR SLUGS FROM A 44

NO LES

NO MORE

Or this grave marker from Uniontown, Pennsylvania:

HERE LIES THE BODY OF JONATHAN BLAKE

STEPPED ON THE GAS

INSTEAD OF THE BRAKE

In the effort to explain how the person died, the tombstone of Harry Edsel Smith of Albany, New York says:

LOOKED UP THE ELEVATOR SHAFT 

TO SEE IF THE CAR WAS 

ON THE WAY DOWN 

IT WAS

Television celebrity and talk show host Merv Griffin penned his own:

I WILL NOT BE RIGHT BACK AFTER THIS MESSAGE

Sometimes these “last words” reveal more than the deceased may have wanted, like this one:

HERE LIES A FELLOW WHO LIVED FOR HIMSELF

AND CARED FOR NOTHING 

BUT GATHERING PELF

NOW WHERE HE IS OR HOW HE FARES

NOBODY KNOWS AND NOBODY CARES

These posthumous writings will often summarize a life. If accurate, they can point the reader to that which was most important to the deceased. Did this person enjoy life? Was she cared for? Did he make a difference? Did she leave a legacy?

When you die, how will you be remembered?

Newspaper columnist Nick Clooney printed some epitaphs from people still alive, written by themselves. Some were humorous, some serious. Some hoped that their own original epitaph would be close to the way they might be remembered. One that I appreciate came from Charlie Mechem, former head of Taft Broadcasting. Charlie wished that this might be put on his tombstone: “Dear God, Thanks for letting me visit. I had a wonderful time.”

All right. Not every day is a wonderful day. But as I look back over my life, the good and bad, the difficult and fun and exciting and dreadful, I would like to be able to say in summary: I had a wonderful time. There were friends and family, there were failures and even disasters, but there was also plenty of fun. And through it all, there was important work to do. When it’s finally over, I want to honestly say I had a wonderful time.

So I’m going to make sure I appreciate today. And I know that if I can look back on most days as being somehow worthwhile, and often times enjoyable, I know that if I will find a way to appreciate every day given to me, I will be able to say in all sincerity, “I had a wonderful time.” 

I can’t ask for more.

-- Steve Goodier

Love Life - and Let It Love You Back

A man had just taken his annual physical exam and was waiting for the doctor's initial report. After a few minutes the doctor came in with his charts in hand and said, "There's no reason why you can't live a completely normal life as long as you don't try to enjoy it."

One of the great keys to successful living is to ignore that doctor's recommendation and enjoy life as much as possible. Living well is difficult. Learn to enjoy it. Decide to be happy.

I once heard a story that you are sure to appreciate, even if you don’t know (or care) much about baseball. It occurred many years ago, back when Branch Rickey was managing the St. Louis Browns baseball team. The Browns happened to be playing against the Detroit Tigers and the immortal Ty Cobb came to bat with two outs and the bases empty in the last inning of a tie game. Cobb drew a base on balls. Once at first, Cobb took a risky lead. His daring, his pure desire to make the most of the moment, rattled the pitcher. The pick-off throw was wild and Cobb dashed. He made a defiant turn at second, forcing another wild throw, slid 10 feet into third and watched as the dazed third baseman muffed the catch. Cobb sprang to his feet and sped for home. By sheer adventure and skill he made what amounted to a home run out of a base on balls!

Ty Cobb’s Tigers won and the Browns lost as a result. But, Branch Rickey, the opposing manager, was thrilled. He had the privilege of witnessing Ty Cobb's irrepressible love of the game, a quality that set him apart from most other players. Rickey later commented, "If a player really loves this game, it'll love him back."

So it is with all of life. If I really want to love life, I must give it all I have. And if I give myself to it fully, I enjoy it more. If I try to truly live every moment and pay attention, if I laugh more and worry less, I find more joy -- even in the struggles. 

Henry Van Dyke said, "Be glad of life because it gives you the chance to love and to work and to play and to look at the stars."

Do you love life? After all, it’s giving you a chance to work and play and gaze at the stars. Be glad. Enjoy! Learn to love it...and let it love you back.

-- Steve Goodier

Image: flickr.com/John Britton

Life Is Meant to Be Lived

Life is to be lived. No excuses. No reservations. No holding back.

An enchanting story about the talented violinist Fritz Kreisler tells how he once came across a beautiful instrument he wanted to acquire. When he finally raised the money for the violin, he returned to buy it and learned that it had already been sold to a collector.

He went to the new owner's home in order to try to persuade him to sell the violin. But the collector said it was one of his prized possessions and he could not let it go. The disappointed Kreisler turned to leave, but then asked a favor. "May I play the instrument once more before it is consigned to silence?"

Permission was granted and the great musician began to play. The violin sang out a quality of music so beautiful that the collector himself could only listen in wonderment. "I have no right to keep that to myself," he said after the musician finished. "The violin is yours, Mr. Kreisler. Take it into world, and let people hear it."

William Arthur Ward said, "If you believe in prayer, pray; if you believe in serving, serve; if you believe in giving, give." For you and I are exquisite violins and our music is meant to be heard.

I want to live my life that way -- to take it into the world and live it fully. I'd rather burn out than rust out. I'd rather be used up than die not having done whatever I could...wherever I would.

I'm not talking about wearing out due to unrestrained over-activity. Happiness is never found in excessive busyness. But it is found in investing our lives in others. And letting your music be heard.

In the end, I know that my happiness will not have been about my ability or my inability. It will be more about my availability. 

I want to live my life. No excuses. No reservations. No holding back.

-- Steve Goodier

Image: Flickr.com/kimverlihalili  

PhD in Living

American baseball great Charlie Hough says, "Listen to everyone. Learn from everyone. Nobody knows everything but everyone knows something."

At her citizenship hearing in 1967, Immaculata Cuomo (mother of the late New York governor Mario Cuomo) was asked by the judge how many stars were on the US flag. She said she didn't know, but could she ask the judge a question? After he agreed, she asked him how many hands of bananas were on a stalk. He admitted he didn't know, so she proudly said, "Well, I do." Her citizenship was granted. Here was a judge who wisely realized that everyone has something to teach.

"Live to learn and you will learn to live," says a Portuguese proverb. For life cannot be lived well in ignorance. In fact, those who live life to the fullest have a PhD in living. This is what a PhD in living means:

P is for "poor in knowledge." Those who live best realize that they can never learn enough.

H is for "hungry to learn." Those who hunger for knowledge will always find plenty to eat.

D is for "desire to succeed." Those who desire to learn and improve, and those who persist in spite of obstacles, will live fully.

Realize you're poor in knowledge, become hungry to learn and desire to succeed. Everybody and every occasion can become your teacher, and this is the PhD that will open the door of living fully.

-- Steve Goodier

Image: flickr.com/Cole Young

Living Fully

Do you feel your life is all it can be? Do you yearn for life to be fuller? A friend once recited this poem to me:

There once was a cautious gal, who never romped or played;
She never drank, she never smoked, from the path she never strayed.
So when she passed away the insurance was denied;
For since she never really lived they claimed she never died!

Of course, I don’t think these behaviors describe quality living, but I do think most people want to experience life as fully as possible. This has always been the case. Even two thousand years ago, Jesus, that great lover of life from Galilee, recognized our universal yearning for life when he said, “I have come that they might have life and have it more abundantly.”

And, of course, “romping,” “playing,” and “straying from the path” have little to do with how fully one experiences life. Abundant living is more about how we love the other people on this planet, how we care for ourselves and how well we honor our God. It has to do with joy and laughter, kindness, forgiveness and peace. It means taking time for what is truly necessary.

One man was asked if he believed in life after death. His wife spoke first. “Life after death?” she said. “He doesn’t even believe in life after dinner!”

I believe in life after death. But I also believe in life before death. Abundant and full and beginning today.

-- Steve Goodier

Image: flickr.com/Matt B 

Are You Lighting Your Candles?

Brendan Francis correctly said, "No yesterdays are ever wasted for those who give themselves to today." Ann Tyler explained that truth in her novel Back When We Were Grownups.

Fifty three-year-old Rebecca is speaking to her grandchildren: "When I was a little girl..., my Aunt Ida gave me this beautiful, tall white candle with a kind of frill of white lace running up it in a spiral. I thought it was the most elegant thing I'd ever seen in my life. I saved it in my bureau drawer for some momentous event, although I can't imagine now what that would have been. I mean, I was only eight years old. Not a whole lot of momentous events happen when you're eight. And Aunt Ida would ask me, now and then, 'Have you ever burned that candle?'

"I'd say, 'No, not yet. I'm saving it,' I'd say.

"Then one day, oh, maybe three or four years later, I came across it in my drawer. It had turned all yellow and warped; it was practically a C shape, and the lace was coming off in crumbles. I'd never seen it burning, and now I never would. So ever since that time, I light my candles any chance I get. I light them by the dozens, all over every room, at every party from September through May. Multitudes of candles."

I got an email from a reader named Jennie. She pointed me to that passage and added that she had a similar experience with a gift candle she saved until it melted in the drawer. "I learned my lesson," Jennie said, "and have been lighting my candles, literally and figuratively, ever since!"

Are you lighting your candles? Are you enjoying each day to the fullest? Actually enjoying them? Or will you put off living for some future date? "One today is worth two tomorrows," noted Benjamin Franklin. I'll bet he knew the value of lighting candles -- and living fully -- before it's too late.

I've decided to light my candles TODAY. I've decided to find reasons to enjoy each day as if today were all I had. And if those "candles" burn all the way down, that is okay. For I will have replaced them with lifelong memories, which I somehow know, will be a good trade.

-- Steve Goodier

Image by Eli Duke

If You Had It To Do Over

Image by Fred Fokkelman

One woman announced, “I intend to live forever! So far so good….” But the length of our lives is not the real issue; it’s the quality and meaning that matter. Not the years in a life, but the life in the years.

When asked what he wanted to be remembered for when his life was over, Leo Buscaglia replied, “I want to be remembered as somebody who lived life fully and with passion. I’ve been asked to write my epitaph and I have always thought that the perfect one for my tombstone would be, ‘Here lies Leo who died living.’”

I want to die living. And I want to be remembered as one who lived with purpose, joy and feeling. I want to spend my time learning what goes into a whole and happy life, then building that life the best I can.

Sociologist Tony Campolo told about a study in which fifty people over the age of 90 were asked to reflect upon their lives. “If you had it to do over again,” they were asked, “what would you do differently?” Though there were many answers, three responses dominated. Here they are:

1. “I would reflect more.” Do you ever feel that too much time is spent in “doing” and not enough spent thinking about what you are doing and why you are doing it? Reflection on your time and your priorities, your habits and behaviors, your attitudes and beliefs, in short, reflection on your life, will reveal to you what is truly important.
2. “I would risk more.” Have you missed important opportunities because you were afraid to take a chance? Taking more calculated risks may be the only way to make an important dream come alive.
3. “I would do more things that would live on after I died.” Are you immersed in something bigger and more enduring than your own existence? What will be your legacy?

Reflect more. Risk more. Leave a legacy. These are what our elders say they would do if ever given a second chance.

And, of course, the beauty is this: we don’t need a second chance at life to get it right. We can build a life around these values beginning today. And when it comes time for us to leave this existence, we can go with no regrets. 

-- Steve Goodier


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When You're Root-Bound

Image by Anton Malan

Our family enjoys a beautiful indoor potted plant that has been with us for over three decades. It has accompanied us through tough years and good times. It has lived with us in six different communities. Some days I think it may live forever, but it once died.

The plant did well for about twenty years, but then began to sag and discolor. We watered it. We fed it. We coddled it. We even talked to it. But leaves and branches drooped lower each day as its life slowly ebbed away. We finally plucked a few half-dead leaves, re-rooted them in a jar of water and planted them in a small pot.

The new small plant grew strong and healthy. But the original finally died. When we dug it out of its ceramic pot we could see why – its roots were a tangle of knots. They had grown so massive they threatened to burst the sides of the pot that held them in. Our once-beautiful plant died because it outgrew its environment – it became root-bound.

People, too, can become root-bound. When they are committed to personal growth and development, when they make the kinds of changes in their lives that lead to greater fulfillment and happiness, they often discover they have outgrown their environment.

I know of a man who was offered a job at a salary higher than he had ever made in his life. But after careful consideration, he declined the position.

His would-be employer was amazed that he turned down the offer. “What’s the matter?” he asked. “Isn't the salary big enough?”

“The salary is fine,” the man said. “It’s the job that’s not big enough.”

At one time he could have happily done the work and enjoyed the money. But he knew now the job would not challenge him and he'd eventually become dissatisfied. He would feel root-bound.

The problem was that he had changed. He had out-grown the job that was offered.

People interested in change and personal development need larger and larger environments in which to live. Their views expand. Their perspectives broaden. Their interests change. They seek bigger challenges. And they need people in their lives who will make room for their growth.

As you grow in these ways, you may discover that you've become root-bound. As Bob Dylan sings, “He not busy being born is busy dying.” My plant was busy dying. If your new-found growth causes you to push against the old ways, you may need to realize you are bigger now and accommodate those changes.

It's not uncommon to become root-bound. It happens when you're busy being born. It just means it's time for a new pot.

– Steve Goodier

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A Miracle Morning

I stumbled out the door of a mountain cabin where I was spending the weekend working with youth and their families at a rustic resort center. I had a 6:30 AM appointment to keep and squinted from the early autumn sun peeking over pine-blanketed mountaintops.
   
I was started by a voice behind me. “Today is a miracle!” I turned to find one of the teenagers following behind.
   
“How?” I asked her. It looked like it might be pleasantly warm later in the day. Otherwise, fairly ordinary. The word “miracle” seemed like an overstatement. Anyway, I wasn’t sure if I could handle much excitement this early in the morning.
   
“Think about it,” she smiled. “The sun rose, didn’t it?”
   
“Yeah.” I found it easy to hide any enthusiasm. It seemed to rise on every other morning without my getting involved.
   
“That’s a miracle! It is miraculous that the earth turns as it does. At night, the sun goes down and in the morning it rises. It just happens!”
   
I pretty much already had this figured out. I rubbed sleep from my eyes. I was also busy thinking about how to get a cup of coffee.
   
“And look at the mountains! Covered with trees and grass, they look so beautiful. And there,” she pointed, “a valley. It’s incredible.”
   
Was she always this perky? And shouldn't there be a rule against perkiness this early in the morning? Especially before coffee?
   
“Did you notice the wildflowers?” she continued. “It all smells so fresh and clean and so good.” She took a deep breath and I thought I might have caught a sparkle in her eyes. Though it may have also been a trick of the light. “All of nature receives water and sunlight and everything it needs. Things grow and blossom – it really is lovely.”

Now I started to worry. I thought I was actually coming around. Well, a little bit, anyway. Is perkiness contagious? I felt something stirring inside. Up until then I thought this was just an ordinary morning in the mountains. I didn't know what spell she was secretly weaving, but she had a point. It really was beautiful, even if there was nothing magic about it. 

Then, with a smile that gave her pronouncement a note of finality, she said, “And best of all, it will happen again tomorrow. And the next day. And the next!” Then she sighed. “See? It's a miracle morning.”

In her poem “Aurora Leigh,” Elizabeth Barrett Browning wrote:

    Earth's crammed with heaven,
    And every common bush afire with God:
    But only he who sees, takes off his shoes,
    The rest sit round it, and pluck blackberries...

Along the early morning path, my friend had removed her shoes. For her, earth was “crammed with heaven” and “every bush afire.” It wasn't just perkiness; she had eyes to see what I had completely missed. I was, as Browning might say, sitting around plucking blackberries.

I haven't seen that young woman for many years. She's grown up now. Maybe she has a family of her own. She's no doubt seen a good measure of heartache and trouble – who hasn't? But I would be surprised if she isn't basically a happy and contented person. Why? Because she discovered a valuable secret about happiness – she learned to find wonder in commonplace things and to feel gratitude for the ordinary. And life is nothing if not filled with the commonplace and ordinary.

After all, if a single morning can hold so much wonder for her, then a lifetime of mornings, not to mention evenings and everything in between, should keep her going through whatever life throws her way.

-- Steve Goodier

Image by Michel Mayerle

Fragile: Handle with Care

I once clipped a strange story from the newspaper. It was about a man named Jose Estrada who drove to a popular trail where he like to jog. While Estrada was running, another jogger on the same trail collapsed and died of a heart attack. The man's body was taken to a nearby hospital where authorities found a car key in his pocket, but no identification. 

Assuming they would be able to find the name of the deceased man in his automobile registration papers, they brought the key back to a parking lot near the jogging trail. They figured that if they tried the key in various locked doors of cars parked by the trail, they might eventually find his car and learn who he was. So they experimented until they were able to open the doors of one of the vehicles. 

Now, here's where the story gets strange. The key opened the door of Estrada's pickup truck. They examined Estrada's registration papers and notified his wife of her husband's untimely death. They asked her to come to the hospital and identify his body.

And here is where the story gets stranger still. Mrs. Estrada saw the body on the table with a tube snaking from his mouth, his eyes taped shut and wearing jogging clothing much like her husband wore. In her distraught condition she assumed the body belonged to Jose and signed the death certificate.
   
Meanwhile, Jose Estrada finished running, drove back home and promptly learned from a friend, who was more than stunned to encounter him in the flesh, that he was supposed to be dead. He immediately sped to the hospital and strode, as big as life, into the waiting room. His startled wife fell into his arms laughing and crying. The only thing she managed to spurt out was, “Jose, if you ever die on me again, I'll kill you myself.” After all, he was dead and then he was alive... he was lost and then he was found. All in a single day. 

Eventually, the poor deceased man was properly identified and his family contacted. For this man's family, as well as for Estrada's wife, I wonder what thoughts first surfaced when they received news of the untimely death. Did they try to recall their last moments with him? Did they try to remember if they told him they loved him that morning? Was there an argument? Were there regrets?

How fragile life can be. I suspect that, if life came in a package, it would arrive in a box labeled, “Fragile: Handle with Care.” It is delicate and can be damaged in a moment. And I also suspect that, if life came in a package, it would arrive as a gift. It is undeserved and priceless. Which of us earned it and who could ever afford it?

My challenge is to remember that life is fragile. And it is an awesome gift. But what I want to remember most of all is that the people in my life, these beautiful gifts, are also fragile. And they, especially, need to be handled with care.

– Steve Goodier

Image: freeimages.com/Jane M. Sawyer

Will You Play Your Music?

 

Image courtesy of Betsy Ray

I heard of a recruiter for jump school, the name given for military parachute training, who explains the training this way: “Jump school is three weeks long. The first week they separate the men from the boys.” (Presumably, they also separate the women from the girls.) He goes on to say, “Week two they separate the men from the fools. And week three, the fools jump.”

We once visited friends and sat outside where we watched  paragliders and hang gliders soaring overhead, suspended from colorful wings. They rose up into the sky upon invisible warm currents of air and floated effortlessly by -- trusting in their equipment and their ability to keep them from crashing into the earth. But isn't that risky? Maybe a little. But what a thrill to experience!

My son is a rock climber. Using toeholds and fingertip holds he makes his way up the shear face of a cliff. Though he fell once and broke his arm, he's back out there again. Why? Isn't that risky? Perhaps, but he likes the feeling of satisfaction of conquering the mountain and succeeding at a difficult endeavor.

Of course, one doesn't have to participate in sports to experience risks. Just buy stocks and bonds. I've been told that October is one of the riskiest months to buy stocks. The other dangerous months are January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, November and December.

There is risk in all of life. But aren't some things worth it? Artist Vincent van Gogh put it this way: “The fishermen know that the sea is dangerous and the storm terrible, but they have never found these dangers sufficient reason for remaining ashore.” There are good and valid reasons to take necessary risks. In fact, I am sure we cannot experience a full life and shy away from all risk at the same time. We usually have a choice...we can choose to live boldly or we can choose fear. But be sure of this: the one we pick is all important.

Especially when it comes to major life decisions. Deciding to pursue a compelling idea. Going back to school. Changing vocations. Marriage and family. Moving to a brand new location ... these can be chancy life choices. We can listen to our hearts, or we can decide not to take risks, not to do the scary thing and, perhaps, not to fully live.

May Kay Ash, founder of Mary Kay Inc., once remarked, “Most people live and die with their music still unplayed. They never dare to try.” Is that true? If so, I think that is sad. Is it because most people are afraid? At the end of my life, I don't want to say I always played it safe, I want to say I played my music. I want to say I attempted to stretch my wings and jump. I want to believe I took reasonable risks at the right times.

I have not always chosen the safest path. I've made my mistakes, plenty of them. I sometimes jump too soon and fail to appreciate the consequences. But I've learned something important along the way: I've learned to heed the call of my heart. I've learned that the safest path is not always the best path and I've learned that the voice of fear is not always to be trusted. I've also learned that, if I am to live my life to the fullest, I must not let my music die inside me.

Will you just play it safe? Or will you play your music?

-- Steve Goodier

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A Good Life

Image courtesy of MorgueFile

Calvin, of the "Calvin and Hobbes" comic strip fame, once imparted some timeless wisdom: "If people sat outside and looked at the stars each night," he observed, "I'll bet they'd live a lot differently."

I believe he's right. I try to sit outside every night before bedtime to breathe the night air and look at the sky. It's a simple practice. For me, a time of deep relaxation and spiritual cleansing.

Year by bewildering year our world grows more complex. We crave peace in our souls. We long for simplicity in lives that too easily become relentlessly tangled in complicated webs.

One man, David, enjoyed the simple things of life. He sometimes took jobs in the American west at dude ranches, national parks and seasonal resorts.

His brother, however, wanted to entice him to get a "real" job and live in a world surrounded by things that only money can buy. So David's brother often sent him photos of himself enjoying the so-called "good life." He labeled his snapshots "My new sound system" or "My new car."

But the photographs stopped arriving after David responded with a picture of his own. He sent his brother a large poster with a breathtaking view of Wyoming's Grand Teton National Park. On the back was David's message: "My back yard."

I believe I understand how David feels. While his brother was striving for THE Good Life, David aimed for A Good Life. There's a difference.

THE good life requires that we take pleasure in new things; A good life requires that we take pleasure in moments.

To enjoy THE good life we have to get ahead; to enjoy A good life we have to make the trip worthwhile.

THE good life is supported by feeding our pocketbooks; A good life is supported by feeding our souls.

Over a century ago, John Burroughs put it like this: "To find the universal elements enough; to find the air and the water exhilarating; to be refreshed by a morning walk or an evening saunter...to be thrilled by the stars at night; to be elated over a bird's nest or a wildflower in spring – these are some of the rewards of the simple life." I call it a good life.

I don't want to collect more stuff at the expense of collecting memories. And I don't want to let making a buck interfere with my making a difference.

I'm already looking forward to tonight when I'll sit outside and look up at the stars.

-- Steve Goodier

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Significant Living

Image courtesy of Erik Marr

I heard someone say, “Forget love...I'd rather fall in chocolate.” I guess I’ve never liked chocolate that much. It was author Linda Grayson who said, “There is nothing better than a friend, unless it is a friend with chocolate.” Sorry. You can leave the chocolate out of my friendships. I’m just not a great fan. I know…what kind of monster dislikes chocolate? Well, you’re looking at one, I suppose.

But I am passionate about some things. I love music – don’t think I would want to live without it. And I care quite a bit about some big things, like living my life fully and helping others to do the same. I care about the welfare of people and building a world where people matter. All people, not just some. I believe it is important to care deeply about a few things that matter.

Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel says this about the importance of caring:

 “The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference.
 The opposite of art is not ugliness, it's indifference.
 The opposite of faith is not heresy, it's indifference.
 And the opposite of life is not death, it's indifference.”

And what’s the opposite of indifference? It is concern. It’s caring.

I think most people want to make a difference, even in a small way. They want their lives to count for something. But it can never happen until they care about something bigger than themselves. Something that really matters.

American president Teddy Roosevelt knew about passionate living. He never did anything in a small way. Several years after serving two terms as president, he decided to run again. The early part of his campaign consisted of traveling by train from one state to another to stump.

Roosevelt reached Chicago on October 13, 1912 from Iowa. His throat was so sore from speaking that it had been necessary to cancel previous addresses in Indiana and Wisconsin. But this time he insisted on making a speech the next day in Milwaukee, no matter how he felt.

As he left his hotel to go to the hall where a crowd was already gathered, Roosevelt was shot in the right breast in an assassination attempt. He did not know the extent of the injury – it might have been fatal as far as he knew – but he insisted on speaking to the crowd before allowing his gunshot wound to be treated. He told them that he would make this speech or die. He had something to say and there was no canceling.

Visibly pallid and sporting a bright red stain on his chest, he began in a low tone. “I am going to ask you to be very quiet and please excuse me from making a long speech,” he said. “I'll do the best I can, but there is a bullet in my body.” He went on to minimize the injury and told his audience that he had a message to deliver and would speak as long as his life held out. Then he said, “It matters little about me, but it matters about the cause we fight for.” (He survived the incident, by the way.)

Causes do matter. And the world is changed by people who care deeply about causes – about things that matter. We don’t have to be particularly smart or talented. We don’t need a lot of money or education. All we really need is to be passionate about something important; something bigger than ourselves. And it’s that commitment to a worthwhile cause that changes the world.

I know – not all of us are interested in changing the world. That’s okay. But any life will be significant when we expend energy and passion on important matters.

And at the end of the day, I’m sure it’s okay to save a little passion for chocolate, too.

-- Steve Goodier

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