The Art of Being Human

    He was recently single with a wouldn't die dream of the man he wanted to be when he was seventeen.  With money to burn and time on his hands he went out and bought all the trappings of the life he thought he wanted and never got to have.  It went down hill after that.  I guess he didn't know that a hat does not make you a cowboy.  His carefully cultivated life that shouted “Here’s who I am”  ended up being a mile wide and half an inch deep, nothing he could sustain or wanted to when it was all said and done.  The sad part is that he is so busy telling the world who he wants to be that we never get to see who he really is. And neither does he. Then there’s Rachel. Rachel is a seven year old wildish way child who knows who she is because her mother lets her Be.  Not too long ago she dressed herself in purple shorts, an eighties headband, added a school award  and two paper leis for good measure then struck a pose tha...

I have a long history of failure with maps. An orienteering course while I was in college comes to mind. I successfully convinced four experienced members of my team that I knew where I was when I didn't.  They had to send a truck for us.  I don't know why they listened to me anyway because I almost never knew where I was going and got lost more often than I didn't.  Another time I was leading a paddling trip on The Chattooga River,  I came out of the woods with my canoe on my shoulder a very long way from where I should have been.  These stories, and there are more, don’t surprise anyone who knows me.  It’s not unusual for the person I’m meeting somewhere to call and without a hello, or howdy do ask, “How lost are you?”  Recently, I found myself in uncharted territory, a new and completely unexpected beginning, and I wanted a map. I wanted someone to say, “Over here, not there, go right, not left.”  I wanted a label for my unknown destinat...

Mention the word adventure and you might think of whitewater rafting, travel to exotic lands, or para sailing over the Mediterranean.   I've done all those things and more. I've taken a moonlight walk in Bali, and had a picnic in  Paris . I talked to an old woman in  Morocco  about the meaning of life and played with kindergartners in  China . My life has had no shortage of adventures. I’ll let you in on a little secret though, life is an adventure all by it's self when you have the right attitude, no passport required. Some of my favorite adventures have happened right here in my hometown, living my every day life. The key to adventure, or just plain fun for that matter, is your attitude. Having a sense of wonder and delight in the world around you, a willingness to be curious and do something new is what makes something fun. It doesn't matter where you are.When I lived overseas I was always surprised and saddened at the number of people who never...

I say a little prayer whenever I see a certain kind of little girl. I'm talking about the little girl who is being completely herself rather it’s wearing a pair of red cowboy boots and a pink tutu or strutting around her room singing at the top of her lungs; Nashville here she comes. You probably know a little girl like her, or maybe you used to be like her yourself. The world can be hard place  for a free spirit, wild child who has the audacity to sing her own song or chart her own course in the world.  While she is young we smile and applaud her cheeky sass. Then slowly, but surely she gets the message that it’s best to be a little less. A little less brash, a little less bold, a little less of herself because she makes people uncomfortable. It takes a strong spirit for a girl to withstand the onslaught of well meaning advice that would tame her wildish ways and make her less than her best. It’s not any easier being a free spirit, wild child as a woman either. ...

A friend of mine is writing her memoir. Frankly, I’d would rather poke my eye out with a stick and run screaming into the woods.   An honest story told with respect takes guts, and that’s what a memoir is, a story. We need stories. Story tellers used to be highly regarded in communities because despite our apparent differences we are the same in more ways than we will ever be different. Stories remind us of our common humanity. We need to hear stories and we need to tell them. Through the healing power of stories connections are forged and strengthened.   Without our stories about who we are and how we came to be we sink into sound bite lies that bind us in shame for who we think we aren't. Hearing stories keeps shame at bay. Stories are the equivalent of human road signs that say, "You are not alone!" "Me too!" "It gets better." "Hang in there." Stories infuse our lives with meaning, like salt in a stew. But, first we must get pas...

I was preparing for a zombie apocalypse in a pretty serious way. Serious enough that I called Revel to ask him how he thought I should store the 100 gallons of water I getting ready to buy. You know, in case the zombies come. He didn't miss a beat. “I got all the water you need. Don’t worry about it.” Just like, that he reeled me back in.  He did suggest that I ease up on binge watching The Walking Dead, though. At least I knew my zombies weren't real. (Mostly).  A friend of mine, on the other hand is convinced her zombies were real. Darlene is dating a guy for the first time after a nasty divorce. Her zombies are the fear that he will cheat on her or that he’s not being honest. She’s so busy preparing for the zombies that she can’t enjoy the journey to where ever this new beginning is leading her.  She’s convinced that something bad is right around the corner and by God and all that’s holy she’s going to be prepared this time!   The answer is not to be b...

The Art of Being Human: Let's Be Honest