Tag Archives: silence

i spy

The Best Advice So Far - i spy

 

My tank top clung to my skin with sweat. After temperatures that had topped 100° over the last several hours I’d been exploring, the air conditioning that wooshed out to greet me as I opened the metal and glass doors felt like an ice bath. I settled briefly onto a blue sofa, across from a young couple who had also just entered.

“See anything good?” I asked them.

The man rolled a shoulder. “Nah, nothing really. Just a couple of the usual lizards.”

I was mystified.

We’d each just emerged from an incredible Audubon-protected swamp sanctuary here in Southwest Florida, having traversed the same boardwalk that meandered through six different ecosystems. How had they seen “nothing” … when I’d seen so much?

Just a few paces in, I’d spotted a small alligator lounging along the far side of a murky pool.

Yes, I’d seen lizards, noting which were green anoles and which were brown. But I’d also seen black ones, trying to hide among the puzzle-like pattern of tree trunks covered in red and white lichens. There were skinks as well.

Great egrets sauntered among waist-high marsh grasses, one only perhaps a yard away, its slender neck undulating side to side then straightening regally.

I’d lingered in the shaded areas where possible, canopies of giant palm and ancient cypress overhead. At times, I just closed my eyes and listened. I wondered what creatures were making the slurping, splishing, crackling sounds in the water around me. Birds laughed raucously somewhere among the trees as sonorous grunts ping-ponged back and forth from among the tall grasses. Pig frogs, as it turns out.

There on a moss-covered log, motionless at first, was a fairly rare species of turtle, Deirochelys reticularia. After watching a while, however, I was rewarded with a full extension of his yellow-striped neck.

Another alligator, much larger than the first, blinked its eyes at me from among some reeds around a bend. I was patient and he was curious. Before long, he glided lazily over — so close I could have reached down and touched him — before continuing on his way into unseen spaces.

Just moments later, something caught my eye to the right…


what not to say

The Best Advice So Far - what not to say

I always seem to have some crazy story or other to tell, don’t I?

I was asked a thoughtful question recently, as my birthday nears: “What would you like to see more of and less of in the year ahead. After The Zinc Fiasco of 2015/2016 and last month’s visit to Death’s door (aka, The Black Pill Debacle of 2017), my “less-of” response seemed a given”

I’d like to have less … in the way of health issues.

Don’t get me wrong. I consider myself very fortunate. Yet when birthday presents past include a medical dictionary marked with sticky strips on every page containing some strange malady I’ve encountered … one might have reason to suspect that something’s up.

And many have told me I’m the healthiest sick person they’ve met so far. (I suppose that’s true to my nature, being a lifelong “balance of extremes” as I call it.)

Well, wouldn’t you know, a week ago today (just after I finished writing last week’s post, in fact), I wound up adding another sticky to that medical dictionary of mine.

The hedge along the driveway had turned into a jungle; and the worker the landlord had hired to take care of it had just informed her that he’d have to postpone — until the second week of September. Well, that was just not an option. The drive would literally be impassable by then. So the landlord asked if I might consider taking care of tedious job for some cash. I agreed.

Picture it if you will:

  • Eight-foot overgrown hedge
  • Five-foot ladder on an uneven gravel drive
  • Electric hedge trimmer

So there I was, tip-toeing on the second-to-last rung of the too-short ladder, stretching as far as I could over the top of the hedge to get those last few outcropping branches at the far side … when the ladder began to wobble.

I reached out instinctively to steady myself … on nothing … and in doing so, let go of the heavy, two-hand-operated saw …


poison

The Best Advice So Far - poison

A few weeks back, I nearly died.

I don’t mean this in any figurative sense. I. Nearly. Died.

I didn’t write about it close to the event, because it felt a bit glib to do so at the time. But now that we’re a few weeks out, I’m more of the mindset that “all’s well that ends well.” What’s more, I experienced something I don’t believe would have been possible had it not been for my visit to death’s door and back.

If you’re a regular here, you know that I experienced some prolonged and progressively worsening health issues over the course of a year and a half, from spring of 2015 until late 2016 — a situation that mystified specialists until I realized around Christmas time that I’d been severely overdosing on zinc of all things. That day, I cut zinc entirely. I even replaced my daily multi-vitamin with one that contained no zinc or other minerals. Within two weeks, all symptoms that had been plaguing me for so long subsided.

As fate would have it, my doctor decided to take a blood test before re-upping my regular thyroid meds — a dose that hasn’t changed in eighteen years. My research on the zinc situation had revealed that, along with everything else, too much zinc interferes with the uptake of thyroid meds. I had a feeling the test would come back wrong. It did. I suggested that we simply wait a few weeks for the excess zinc to be out of my system and then do another blood test. The doctor, however, decided that I was “way overdosed” on the thyroid medication — that after eighteen years, my thyroid must’ve started working again somehow, putting out some amount of its own hormone.

*sigh *

He cut the dose by 20%.

And within just a few days, I was so tired, lethargic and unable to focus that basic daily living became a struggle.

I began drinking bottles of 5-Hour Energy regularly, and even started into Red Bull for the first time in my life … just to stay conscious. And of course, that created its own set of problems.

While picking up my next refill of the lowered dose of thyroid meds at the pharmacy, I happened down an aisle that offered supplements claiming to boost metabolism and provide “natural energy.”

Anything had to be better than continually feeling that I was just waking up from anesthesia, or having the all-over body buzz and subsequent crash cycle caused by all the energy drinks.

I’d be willing to bet that you see where all of this is going …

I grabbed the black-and-gold box from the shelf and had the pharmacist ring it in with my regular prescription. Nary a word did she say by way of warning about the product as she punched it into her computer and I swiped my card. Nope. She sent me off with a smile and a “Have a good day.” And that was that.

Once home, I opened the box, read the directions and shook out the first of the magical pills that would surely finally solve my energy problems: two large, oval pills.

Black …

 


overload

The Best Advice So Far - overload - Frankenstein-like coconut with lightning striking ear bolts

I’ve mentored teens and young adults for more than 25 years now, and part of that role is inextricably linked to education in some form or other. Whether it’s finally helping kids make sense of the quadratic equation, or teaching them new strategies for dealing with conflict, I love the look that comes over kids’ faces when they finally get whatever it is that’s been stumping them up to that point.

(I equally love the feeling of learning a new thing myself and knowing “that look” has crept over my own face, though I’ve never actually seen it … which is good, because that would be weird.)

As you might imagine, over the course of a couple of decades, I’ve worked with an awful lot of kids and covered an awful lot of topics. One especially fun exchange is whenever I get to explain to a kid for the first time how money works. (And mind you, this is often during high school or even early college years.)

I take out a dollar bill and ask, “How much is this worth?” And they generally say, “A dollar.” And I reply, “Nope. It’s worth basically nothing.”

Mouths quirk in a mix of confusion and curiosity. It’s clear that I’ve got their attention.

I then take out my checkbook and show them a blank check. “How much is this worth?” They generally try to guess the “right” answer at this point. “Nothing?” they’ll ask more than state.

“Yes, that’s right. Nothing. But what if I write it out for one hundred dollars? Then how much is it worth?”

“A hundred dollars?” they suggest, still unsure.

“Nope. It’s still worth nothing. It’s just paper with printing on it, and now some of my handwriting. It’s worth nothing.”

Here’s where I really get them.

“Hold the dollar up to the check. What do you notice?” I ask, handing them the money and the checkbook.

First, they’ll look for words or numbers that match. Not finding any, the realization I was after soon dawns on nearly everyone …


no words

The Best Advice So Far: no words - wide-eyed man with tape over mouth

It was Wednesday, somewhere between 2:00 and 3:00 a.m. I was in the middle of a shoulder workout. Joe, the sole employee on duty, was parts unknown; so I essentially had the entire gym to myself. I had just finished up a set of lateral raises and was placing the dumbbells back on the rack.

That’s when I started crying.

*****

I received quite a bit of feedback with regard to last week’s atypical post. Responses ran the gamut, with people enthusiastically supporting or decrying in about equal proportions a wide range of things — some of which I never actually said or meant.

What I found even more curious, given the nature of the topic and its accompanying challenge, was that for all the disparate thoughts shared, not a single person asked a clarifying question toward being sure they understood my intent.

And that, of course, only further underlines what the post was actually about — our seemingly inescapable inclination as human beings to perceive through the lens of our own existing belief systems what others are saying, taking as a given that our interpretations are accurate.

As it turned out, that post was one of my longest to date. And yet, for all the words, clarity still had a tendency to remain elusive.

I’ve always felt that language grants us magical powers. Yet like any tool, I’ve found it to be a double-edged sword — capable of being used for both enormous good and dire ill.

Words allow us the ability to mitigate or to manipulate.

To clarify or to confuse.

To liberate or to label.

To draw people in — or to draw lines that keep them out.

I recall having seen a movie where an inmate at a high-security prison killed someone with a plastic spoon. It occurred to me that, much like words, the spoon was not the problem. The intent of the user was.

Still, this great capacity to help or to harm only accounts for willful uses of language and words.

Some years back, I read a memorably strange news article. A woman had waded out some distance from shore at a beach and was dunking herself under, perhaps seeing how long she could hold her breath. Suddenly, a pelican dove, apparently mistaking the bobbing hair on the surface of the water for an injured fish or squid. But instead of finding an easy dinner …


sea glass

The Best Advice So Far: Sea Glass - light blue sea glass on sand against sunset

Winter is not quite over. But after a couple spectacular blizzards in mid January and February, New England has been enjoying some record-breaking warmth. Last Friday, the temperature reached 75° — beating the historical average for that day by a whopping 35°.

I donned shorts and a tank top, slipping into the sandals I’d dug out from the back of the closet. And for one glorious day, it was summer.

I love summer.

In fact, I chose one of the iconic symbols of summer time as the primary image for the cover of my first book, The Best Advice So Far. And it wasn’t just because I like the taste of lemonade. It’s more than that for me. It’s a symbol of hope, of childlike adventure, of making time for the important little things we so often tend to whiz by in life.

Button to Read Chapter 39 from The Best Advice So Far - Free

In my last post, I shared a sample chapter from the audiobook recording of The Best Advice So Far, for which editing is currently underway. Well, since my health, energy and focus have returned, I’ve also got my sights set on the next book.

Before I’d gotten very far into writing The Best Advice So Far, I knew that lemonade would be the theme. And here again, as I plan the next book, I’m already all but settled on the imagery for its cover: sea glass.

At the center of my mentoring, facilitation and everything I write is this statement: “You always have a choice.” And like lemonade, sea glass is about …

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the birds and the bees

The Best Advice So Far - the birds and the bees / bird icon + bee icon

Let me tell you ‘bout
The birds and the bees
And the flowers and the trees.

Actually, they were bushes. Well, more like hedges and a possible shrub. But I digress.

In a recent post, I talked about noticing and enjoying anew the treasures already surrounding you, as if you were someone else from somewhere else seeing them for the very first time. That little exercise in focus and appreciation sparked a heightened awareness in me (funny how that happens); and in the days that followed, I had many moments where colors seemed more vibrant, smells more potent — even memories more vivid.

BEFORE YOU CONTINUE: I began this blog post on October 17, when the world up here in the Northeast was still green. It’s now the day after Christmas, and I’m continuing from an airport. At first, I thought it best to scrap this blog post with so much time having passed. Maybe I’d revisit it next year. But then it occurred to me that there’s something in the “sudden” passage of 10 weeks that speaks to the point I was trying to make all along: if we don’t remain intentional and vigilant, if we don’t make time for worthwhile moments to unfold in our lives, time keeps doing what it has always done. It passes.

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