A Powerful Lesson

My father taught me a powerful lesson I’ll never forget.

His own father, my grandfather, was a mining engineer and his family lived in the Philippines prior to World War II. After Japan invaded the Philippines in 1941, foreigners were rounded up and incarcerated. Manila's University of Santo Tomas was made into a prison camp and my father, his mother and his sisters were held there for the duration of the war. His father, an enlisted man, was separated from the family and imprisoned with captured military personnel.

My dad was a teenager at the time. He, like other prisoners, struggled to survive. To keep from starving, he learned to eat his small, daily rations of rice without first removing the carcasses of worms and insects in the bowl (“We needed the protein,” he’d say). But he ate better than most prisoners - he worked as an orderly in the prison hospital and, whenever possible, ate leftover food from plates of hospital patients as he carried trays to the kitchen for cleaning. Though almost six feet tall, when he was finally freed he weighed only 95 pounds, but maintained for the rest of his life that he likely survived those years only because of the scraps of food he snatched from hospital trays.

Life was difficult there by any standards. Numerous prisoners became ill and many died. Anger and bitterness toward their captors abounded. For decades after their eventual release from prison camp, men and women of Santo Tomas (like other prisoners of war) felt a smoldering rancor toward the people who incarcerated them.

My father lost almost everything. His family lost their home. They lost their possessions. And hardest still, they lost their freedom. But he also lost his father. My grandfather did not survive his captivity.

Yet I never heard my dad express any anger or resentment toward his captors or the Japanese people. Just the opposite. He taught me to regard ALL people with respect. He taught me to honor people of all races, nationalities and religions. Maybe he knew that bitterness only kept his wounds open and infected. Maybe he realized that, like a disease, festering resentments can infect others, too. And they can kill.

Nelson Mandela wrote of the day he was released from prison, “As I walked out the door toward my freedom, I knew that if I did not leave all the anger, hatred and bitterness behind, that I would still be in prison.” 

My father was freed from two prisons: the bricks and mortar walls that held him during the war, and walls of hatred that could have incarcerated his spirit for years to come. The second prison is as incapacitating as the first. For unless we’re free on the inside, we’re not really free at all. 

I’ll not soon forget my father’s powerful lesson.

-- Steve Goodier

Image: freeimages.com/mirco delcaldo

All the Advice You’ll Ever Need

“Let me give you some advice.” How often have we heard that? We sometimes ask the opinions of friends or experts, but I know that unsolicited advice is not something people appreciate much. Which is why it is sometimes said that free advice is worth about as much as you pay for it. Or put another way: “Plain advice is free. The right answer will cost plenty.”

Personally, I don’t like advice unless I think I need it. And I’m careful about giving it, too. I know I’m not alone in this. American president Harry Truman once said, “I have found the best way to give advice to your children is to find out what they want and then advise them to do it.” At least that way your recommendation is followed.

One boy wrote in an essay on the ancient Greek philosopher Socrates: “Socrates was a man who went around town giving his advice and opinions, so...they poisoned him!” What this student lacks in historical accuracy he more than makes up for in his sense about how well most unsolicited advice is received.

The problem is...what works well for one person may not fit someone else. Take the wisdom offered by American baseball player Leroy “Satchel” Paige. His rules on living might have been all right for him, but they don’t suit most of us. Here is his counsel. Take it or leave it.

“Avoid fried meats which angry up the blood.

If your stomach disputes you, lie down and pacify it with cool thoughts.

Keep the juices flowing by jangling around gently as you move.

Go very lightly on vices such as carrying on in society. The social ramble ain’t restful.

Avoid running at all times.

Don’t look back. Something may be gaining on you.”

Don’t hear me say that all advice should be discarded. Not at all. Nor should we overlook wisdom from unlikely sources. Like the “uneducated.” Or those from a bygone era.

I have a faded letter clipped from a newspaper many years ago. The author published some counsel given him by his grandmother who had died some 60 years prior, and who had never attended school. She offered it printed on a slip of paper, accompanied by the words, “All the advice you’ll ever need to have a good life.” I find it worth remembering. This is what she wrote:

“Wash what is dirty.

Water what is dry.

Heal what is wounded.

Warm what is cold.

Guide what goes off the road.

Love people who are least lovable, because they need it most.” *

There is lot of wisdom packed in those few words. And she said it best: “All the advice you’ll ever need to have a good life.” 

-- Steve Goodier

* (adapted from Archbishop Stephen Langton  d. 1228)

Farther Along the Beauty Way

Coming from the US state of New Mexico, I learned early in life to love spicy foods. We like to treat friends to favorite homemade spicy dishes. (Some may think we inflict our tastes on them; I prefer to say we treat them to authentic New Mexican cuisine.) A typical reaction to a dish bathed in our hot sauce goes like this: they smile and enthusiastically try a bite; their eyes open far too wide and they begin to sweat profusely and reach for the water to put out the flames in their stomachs; then, when voice and reason return, they nod and politely say, “Tasty.” They sometimes don’t come back.

One person commented, “I’ve heard of people who preach hellfire, but you’re the only one I know who hands out samples.”

These days, however, my body is starting to tell me to be more selective in my diet. I have to be careful of overdoing my favorites. I still like it hot, but in smaller quantities. I relate to the woman who stepped off the scale and was asked by her husband what the verdict was. “According to the height table,” she replied, “I should be about six inches taller.”

But more important than the food I put into my body are thoughts I put into my mind. Thoughts of bitterness like, “I hate her!” Thoughts of despair like, “I'll never be happy again.” Thoughts of fear like, “I could never do that!” And thoughts of worry, thoughts of greed and thoughts of self-loathing…“I’m so stupid.” A constant diet of these killer thoughts will destroy any of us long before heartburn or cholesterol.

The indigenous Navajo people of New Mexico, Utah and Arizona (the Diné, as they call themselves) have an expression for this. They traditionally believe that how they fill their minds will shape their lives. So they want to fill their minds with that which is good, harmonious and edifying. They speak of “walking and thinking in the Beauty Way” – ridding their minds of all that is destructive and filling them with that which is good and peaceful.

With beauty, may I walk.
With beauty before me, may I walk.
With beauty behind me, may I walk.
With beauty above me, may I walk.
With beauty all around me, may I walk.
(Excerpt from the Navajo Night Way Ceremony)

The Beauty Way is the way of love and contentment, peace and kindness. It is the way of patience and courage and, above all, harmony.

In old age, wandering on a trail of beauty,
lively, may I walk.
In old age, wandering on a trail of beauty,
living again, may I walk.
It is finished in beauty.
It is finished in beauty.
(Excerpt from the Navajo Night Way Ceremony)

What are you putting into your mind? James Allen has said, “You are today where your thoughts have brought you; you will be tomorrow where your thoughts take you.” Fill your mind with life-affirming thoughts and tomorrow will find you farther along the Beauty Way.

-- Steve Goodier

Beautiful Old People

A reporter was interviewing a 104-year-young woman. “And what do you think is the best thing about 104?” the journalist asked.
   
“No peer pressure,” she replied.
   
When I was in college, I worked in an after school daycare center with a marvelous woman in her mid-seventies. One day she was complaining about her age. “All my friends are old and crippled,” she remarked. “They’re either crippled in their legs or crippled in their minds.”
   
I know that growing older is not easy, at any age. Columnist Dave Barry talked about it when he turned 40. “If I don’t warm up before throwing a football,” he said, “I have to wait approximately until the next presidential administration before I attempt to do this again.”
   
But even with its aches and pains and a variety of other problems, aging does have an upside. Sister Mary Gemma Brunke has so beautifully written:
   
“It is the old apple trees that are decked with the loveliest blossoms. It is the ancient redwoods that rise to majestic heights. It is the old violins that produce the richest tones. It is the aged wine that tastes the sweetest. It is ancient coins, stamps and furniture that people seek. It is the old friends that are loved the best. Thank God for the blessings of age and the wisdom, patience and maturity that go with it. Old is wonderful!”
   
“Beautiful people are acts of nature,” it has been said, “but beautiful old people are works of art.”
   
I hope someday to be a work of art.

-- Steve Goodier

Image: flickr.com/Marjan Lazarevski

Three Important Things to Know

Do you know what they are?

Can you be too nice? I heard of a woman who is a hard core believer in the adage “it's nice to be important, but it's important to be nice.”  She likes to tell about when she first started to referee children's basketball games. Her grown son stopped by to watch her officiate one of her first practice games. Afterward he suggested that she be more forceful. “You know, Mom,” he said, “you don't have to say 'I'm sorry, dear, but you stepped out of bounds.'”

I think that U.S. industrialist Charles M. Schwab may have gotten it right. At age 72, Schwab was sued for a large sum of money. Many high-profile personalities would have settled out of court, but Schwab went through with it and eventually won the suit.

Before he left the witness stand, he asked permission of the court to make a statement of a personal nature. This is what he said:

“I am an old man, and I want to say that ninety percent of my troubles have been due to my being good to other people. If you younger folk want to avoid trouble, be hard-boiled and say no to everybody. You will then walk through life unmolested, but…” and here a broad smile lit up his face, “you will have to do without friends, and you won’t have much fun.”

Maybe that’s why author Henry James said, “Three things in human life are important: The first is to be kind. The second is to be kind. And the third is to be kind.”

What if today you gave yourself permission to be outrageously kind? What if you extended as much goodwill and kindness as you can possibly muster to every person you meet? And what if you did it with no thought of reward? I'm sure of one thing: it will be a day you will never regret.

-- Steve Goodier


Image: freeimages.com/Crystal Church

The Rocking Chair Test

How are you at making decisions?

Years ago, a city family bought an American cattle ranch and moved to the wide-open country. After a month, friends visited the family in their ranch house. “What did you decide to name your ranch?” they inquired.

“Well,” the husband replied, “I wanted to call it the Flying W and my wife wanted to name it the Suzy Q, but one of our sons liked the Bar J and the other preferred the Lazy Y. So we compromised and call it the Flying W/Suzy Q/Bar J/Lazy Y.”

“I see,” said the visitor. “And where are your cattle?”

“None of them survived the branding,” said the rancher.

Frightening things happen when we can't make a decision. And I don't always make good decisions myself. That's especially true when I act on impulse. I will snatch something off the shelf of a store that I really don't want. Or I don't take the time to research an item I need before purchasing one I just happen to like. I will eat something from the fridge when I'm more bored than hungry and regret the calories later. You get what I mean. I don't always use my head. I can be like a “$40 million dollar airport with a $20 control tower,” as they say.

Impulsive behavior aside, sometimes even thoughtful decision-making is still not easy. No clear choice is evident. We may want black and white but see only fifty shades of gray and no option looks all that good. "I've made up my mind, but I made it up both ways," baseball great Casey Stengel famously quipped.

What do you do when you're decidedly undecided? Or when you're struggling with a decision and you've made your mind up both ways?

When I'm stuck, I sometimes step back and take the Rocking Chair Test. It can get me through the impasse to a point where I'm making better decisions. This is how it works.

Imagine yourself near the end of your life. You are relaxing in a rocking chair reflecting on the decision you presently want to make. As the older, wiser you thinks about the outcome of your choice, ask yourself three simple questions.

1. Did it cause harm?
2. Did it bring about good?
3. How did it shape the person I became?

The Rocking Chair Test helps you to take a long view of your options. After imagining your answers to those questions, you should know better which way to go.

Try asking yourself those three questions. You may be amazed at how quickly you make better decisions.

And the cattle will appreciate your decisiveness.

– Steve Goodier

We Can Get Bigger

I’ve never followed boxing closely, but I chuckle at the attitude of a high school boxing coach. Some of the new athletes were, let’s say, better suited for other activities. One of his boys worked furiously for a couple of rounds, but never connected with anything that might be construed as a punch. Nevertheless, he asked, “What do you think, Coach? Have I done him any damage?”
 
“No,” said a bewildered coach. “But keep on swinging. The draft might give him a cold.”
 
Slim as it is, that might be his only chance to win. And we’ve all been there, haven’t we? Slim to none are sometimes the best odds we can hold out for. Those were about the odds one may have given to early mountaineers who attempted Mt. Everest.
 
It took 32 years of failures for dedicated climbers to reach the top of Mt. Everest, a peak scaled so often now it hardly makes the newspaper. At over 29,000 feet of altitude, snow never melts atop the peak. Sometimes winds at the summit reach 200 miles per hour.
 
George Leigh-Mallory is first recorded as attempting the climb in 1921. On his third try, in June of 1924, he disappeared into the mist and was never seen alive again. The mountain had won. But friends of Mallory one day gazed upon a large picture of the mountain and declared, “Mt. Everest, you defeated us once. You defeated us twice. You defeated us three times. But, Mt. Everest, we shall someday defeat you because you can’t get any bigger – and we can.”
 
Eight more attempts were made on the mountain resulting in eight more failures. But finally, along came Edmund Hillary in 1953 who, along with his guide, Tenzing Norgay, reached the summit for the first time.
 
For years one attempt after another ended in discouragement. But they knew they could get bigger. It’s true, we can always get bigger. Bigger in ability, bigger in experience, bigger in wisdom, bigger in faith. We can always get bigger.
 
And besides, failure is rarely fatal. Every time we fail, we experience a unique opportunity to grow, to get bigger.
 
I am not a fan of failure. But because of it, I am bigger now than I have ever been. I’m big enough today to handle most anything that comes my way. And what’s better, I’m not done growing.
 
What I know is this: when I need to, I can always get bigger.
 
-- Steve Goodier

Just Do What You Know

Someone pointed out that a little knowledge is a dangerous thing, but it sure beats a blank stare for starting a conversation. Which is all right, for I suppose I have about as little knowledge as anyone.

But maybe how much knowledge we have isn’t the point. It’s not always about what we know, what we don’t know and what we think we know. It’s more about what we choose to do with whatever knowledge we may have.

News commentator Paul Harvey once related a story which took place during the American presidential administration of Jimmy Carter. Evidently, daughter Amy Carter needed help with homework. It was Friday and the assignment, a question about the Industrial Revolution, was due on Monday. Neither Amy nor her mother quite understood the question she was research, so mother Rosalyn asked a White House aide to run the question by the Labor Department.

Sunday afternoon a truck pulled up at the White House loaded with a computer printout. Remember dot matrix printing and tractor feed paper? Someone assumed the president needed the information urgently, so the Labor Department assigned a team to work all weekend to prepare the documents.

When first lady Rosalyn learned that the research had cost hundreds of thousands of taxpayer dollars she was horrified. But Amy went ahead and used the information to complete her homework.

On that homework assignment, by the way, she got a “C.”

 I see a parable here. You and I are exposed to a “truckload” of information every day. I recently read that a peasant in tenth century Europe was exposed to roughly the same volume of information in a lifetime as is published in just one daily edition of the New York Times today. We’re inundated with information and likely know more than any generation before us.

But in the end, it’s not about how much knowledge we may have. It’s about what we choose do with what we know that means anything.

My own life can improve significantly if I simply take what I already know and apply it. I know how to forgive, for example, yet I am slow to do it. I know how to love, when to be patient and why I should share generously. I also know that if I do these things as often as possible, it will make a huge difference in my life and to others I care about. But too often I’m reluctant to do them.

Most of the time I even know how to be happy. I bet that you do, too. And I know that if I habitually do the kinds of things that promote a happier and more fulfilled life, I will be the better for it.

A full and happy life does not come from knowing more than others. And we don’t always need to find the latest book on happiness or a popular self help expert to guide us. Most of us already know the greater part of what we need to do to be our best and to get where we want to go. But this is key: to consistently apply what we know every day. In other words, just do it.  

You know enough. Apply what you know today and things can truly be different tomorrow.

-- Steve Goodier

Image: freeimages.com/Mary Gober

Great Teachers

Did you know that ninety percent of the world's ice covers Antarctica? This ice also represents most of the fresh water in the world. Yet Antarctica is the driest place on the planet, with an absolute humidity lower than the Gobi desert.

If you’re into biology, you may know this about the Mayfly -- after hatching, it takes up to three years to grow up, and then spends only one day as an adult. During that day it mates, lays eggs and expires. That last day must be absolutely spectacular.

Next time you dust your house, you may be interested to know that most of the dust particles you are removing are actually tiny bits of dead skin. Don’t even ask how much dead skin has made its way into your favorite pillow.

Did you know that the Mona Lisa has no eyebrows?

Or that that 80% of your brain is water? Well, mine anyway.

You’ve heard the expression "having a lark." Those who are interested in language might want to know that group of larks is called an exaltation. A group of owls is called a parliament. A group of crows is called a murder. A group of rhinos is called a crash, which seems to make some sense. But here’s the best of all: a group of Unicorns is called a blessing.

As interesting as all of these facts are, I doubt any of them is bound to significantly change your life. The stuff we need to know in order to live happier, healthier and more meaningful lives does not usually come from tidbits of knowledge. More often it comes from people; and especially, people who mean something to us. Let me explain.

For Ross Perot, the kind of knowledge that made the greatest difference in his life was actually gleaned from his mother. The American businessman and one-time presidential candidate made billions of dollars from the technology industry. But his mother, who raised him before the phrase "computer age" was ever coined, taught him how to live. She taught him one of the greatest lessons of all: she taught him about compassion for the less fortunate.

Perot remembers the days of America’s Great Depression. "Hoboes" regularly knocked on their door asking for a little food. It puzzled young Ross that his house seemed to be singled out on their street. One day he learned why. On the curb in front of their house someone had etched a white mark, indicating to fellow travelers that this house was an "easy mark." This fact disturbed the boy and he asked his mother if she wanted him to erase the signal. She told him to leave it there. It was a lesson in compassion he never forgot.

Some of the most essential life lessons and wisdom young Ross acquired did not come from a book or a classroom. They were lessons that came from those people closest to him. Many concerned themselves with the heart and spirit. They taught him about the world and the best way to live in it.

Our greatest teachers are usually those who did not volunteer for the job. They are parents and friends, spouses and children. Much great wisdom is learned best from the example of those closest to us.

And the remarkable fact is this: you are a great teacher. You teach powerful lessons every day of your life. You teach them simply by the way you live; by the way you respond to the world; and, by the little decisions you make. I wonder -- who’s watching and learning?

--Steve Goodier 

Image: flickr.com/Mike K

The Gifts of Age

I love young people. I feel the same way as Archbishop Desmond Tutu who once said, "I have the highest regard for young people… Young people are idealistic. They dream dreams about a better world."

They not only dream dreams, they have the audacity to believe in those dreams and often enough enthusiasm to nurture them into something close to real life.

I love young people. What fun I could have "back in the day" – ridiculous fun. And what hope. I was changing so quickly and it seemed I could be limited only by my dreams. If I believed it might be possible, I felt I could make it so.

There are tremendous gifts that come with youth. Like optimism and the ability to change. When anything seems possible, more than a little of it becomes possible if one only believes enough and adapts quickly.

And then we age. Please don’t hear a note of discouragement – it’s just that aging is something I am only slowly coming to embrace. It creeps up on a person like silent fog in the night; we awaken one morning in the midst of it and wonder how it got there.

We age, whether we choose to or not. And some people dread it. Singer Doris Day once said, "The really frightening thing about middle age is that you know you'll grow out of it." That fear can be all too real.

Some people dread aging. And some people deny it. They try to avoid the fact that they are growing older and their bodies are in decline. One woman who had ignored her failing eyesight for too long was asked, "How long have you worn glasses?"

"Since yesterday," she replied. "As I was baking some tollhouse cookies I picked up the fly swatter and killed four chocolate chips." Some people deny aging and live as if nothing has changed.

And some people avoid it – or try to. They idealize youth and never become comfortable in their older, looser-fitting skin. One man quipped: "A few years ago my wife started to wear tight jeans. I went out and bought a convertible. Then she bleached her hair. I took a lot of multiple vitamin shots. Just a few months ago, she had a face lift and a "tummy tuck." I got an implant. And that's the way it’s been for the two of us: side by side -- growing young together."

Since age can’t really be avoided, there are those, also, who learn to laugh at it. Humor won’t chase old age away, but laughter certainly makes it more bearable.

A parody of the musical hit "My Favorite Things" is making the rounds among oldsters. The song, inaccurately attributed to Julie Andrews, reminds us that it helps to laugh at what we can’t change.

"Maalox and nose drops and needles for knitting,
Walkers and handrails and new dental fittings,
Bundles of magazines tied up in string;
These are a few of my favorite things…"

You get the idea.

We may try to deny it or avoid it. We may dread it or learn to laugh at it. But unless an accident or illness robs us of the chance to grow old, we’ll all experience it.

Which is okay. For if youth has its gifts, I believe age does, too. When aged well, the idealism of youth is tempered now with solid experience. Youth’s enthusiasm is made more valuable when combined in old age with good judgment. And youth’s ability to become anything they can imagine, in old age takes the form of character; trustworthy and reliable – character so rich only decades of living could ever grow and refine it.

These are the gifts of age. They are gifts found in those who live their lives intentionally and well. They take a lifetime to acquire and they are precious beyond belief. 

-- Steve Goodier

Hard Won Wisdom

Theodore Levitt, of the Harvard Business School, said, "Experience comes from what we have done. Wisdom comes from what we have done badly." Theodore Levitt sounds like a wise person. I wonder what he’s done badly.

Based on his reasoning, I must be bursting with wisdom. Over the years, I’ve racked up an impressive number of things that haven’t gone too well.

But put another way, wisdom is what the school of life gives us with every poor report card. Wisdom is hard won, and it is often birthed in the ashes of failure.

One man tells of meeting one of the truly “wise” ones among us on a flight to Florida. He was preparing his notes for a parent-education seminar he was to conduct there. Bessie, an older woman sitting next to him, explained that she was returning home after having spent two weeks visiting her six children, 18 grandchildren and ten great-grandchildren.

Then she asked him what he did for a living. The man explained that he was a psychologist specializing in children. He dreaded telling her this, as he fully expected her to probe him for free professional advice during the three-hour flight. But not this wise woman. Instead, she sat back, picked up a magazine and said, “So doctor, if there’s anything you want to know, just ask me.”

Bessie’s years of parenting and grand-parenting gave her what no professional degrees could – it gave her hard won wisdom. Much of what she knew about children could only be learned through experience, including experiences of failure.

I really don’t worry about the things I’ve done badly. If I paid attention to what went wrong and why, then even my most spectacular failures gave something priceless back – they taught valuable lessons. Sometimes wisdom can’t be gotten any other way.

-- Steve Goodier


Image by flickr.com/Edith Maracle