Self Actualization

160. TWO POWERFUL QUESTIONS

One of my favorite self-empowering tools is the knowledge that life can be greatly manipulated by how I chose to shift and reword my questions. I’m not speaking of what I ask others (though there’s an obvious importance on that front) it’s the internalized ones which have had the most influence throughout my lifetime. There’s a dangerous generalized belief that there is no such thing as a bad question. Those who feel this is some sort of rock solid truth are highly misinformed. Social media is crammed with videos documenting the consequences of people having asked bad questions. The ensuing all too often catastrophic outcomes of thousands of people acting upon bad decisions is abundant proof. Unfortunately my own history has reflected some dumb, unhealthy, and downright self-destructive questions too, not the least of which was “Why not just get drunk every day?” While this may sound made up, I assure you I really did ask myself that one. Not only that, I have a vivid memory of where and when it happened. Self-talk is insanely powerful, and I’ve found by experience that what I consider doing, either with focus, or more likely from a subconscious footing, I will more than likely act upon eventually.

I’ve already covered this topic a few times, but there’s two specific questions I’ve yet to address, and I feel they are heavyweight contenders for how to stay focused and grounded in life. If we keep ourselves on track for clear and worthy goals, then our actions and behaviors will automatically align with manifesting our intent. Here is the first question –

“If you knew you had only one hour to live, felt good, and weren’t scared, what would you do?”

I know that no one out there would say “I need to get to the bank, mow the lawn, or finish my laundry.” Neither would they get out their luggage and fill it with as many valuables as they could so they could be prepared for what happens next, just in case. When I’ve asked this question of others, and yes, I’ve asked it a lot, I’ve heard two, and only two serious answers. The first answer is rare and commendable. On occasion someone will say they would spend the time alone in silence, prayer, and gratitude. This is indeed an honorable and noteworthy exit, but it’s not my choice. Mine aligns with the majority, and it sounds something like this – “I would make a few phone calls to thank and say goodbye to those who have meant the most to me in my life, and the rest of the time I would spend reminiscing with and holding the person I Love the most.”

The importance of this question, and the resulting answer, is that it forces us to realize what in life has true importance. To die with wonderful memories and Loving relationships is really the only goal which has value. To reach the end and know we have been of humble service, leaving behind a world that is better than we found it, is the greatest gift we can give ourselves. There are of course a great many who live selfish, self-centered lives, but when they face the end the only conclusion they can come to is that it was all for naught. A lifetime of nothing but egocentric accumulation will never translate into currency that pays for going out peacefully and magnanimously.

The second question follows up neatly with the first, and it’s a bit more specific when it comes to refining a lifelong mission. It can be stated two ways and they are –

“What would you like your friends an acquaintances to say about you after you die?”

Or another way to put it would be –

“In one sentence, what would you want written on your tombstone?”

I have to say if I could look into the future and witness my colleagues talking about me after I had died, and the best thing they had to say was “Man, he sure had a nice car!” (or something akin to that shallow of an observation) I’d be mortified. In other words, if my legacy was nothing but material in nature, I would know I had failed to live up to my ethics and principles.

I do indeed have a vision of what I would want on my tombstone, and it really sums up the underlying energy that pushes and guides me.

“Here lies a man whose enthusiasm refused to die.”

In the end we are only as good as the changes we’ve left behind.

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With Love and compassion,

Daniel Andrew Lockwood

159. A LIFE OF DECLARATIONS

I had no real ambitions as a boy. My motivations were mostly based on doing my best to avoid fist fights in school while trying to sidestep the same type of situation, but worse, at home. Fleeting daydreams of what my world might turn out to be as an adult were fantasies more than goals. Even if I had wanted to pursue a focused future, my parents never planted the seeds of ambition, nor did I give the idea any serious thought on my own. I suppose I wanted it to be related to my predilection for artistic pursuits, but my parents told me straight out that there was no money in such a frivolous talent. Advanced education was seen as something my privileged, well-off friends could (and did) take advantage of.

In my case hindsight is extremely revealing as well as a little spooky because everything I said I wanted to do, actually happened. I clearly recall a pivotal moment in third grade. I was standing around with a bunch of my classmates, all of whom were rattling off what they wanted to be when they grew up, cop, fireman, astronaut, soldier, etc. The standard generic ‘heroes’ at the time were all name-dropped. When it came my turn, I thought some humor would be in order and I gleefully stated I wanted to be a garbageman. Yes, it got a laugh, but I had no idea how much power that tiny declaration carried, and frankly, I didn’t connect the dots until many years later.

One of my first real jobs ended up taking place at elementary school. Somehow, around fourth grade, I wrangled my way into getting paid to help the school janitor, Stu Morelli, take the trash out after lunch every day. I did miss some recess because of it, but I didn’t mind. If I recall correctly my duties netted me about fifty cents a week, which equals about three dollars in purchasing power today, enough to satisfy the mindless wallet of a ten-year-old.

Fast forward seven years and I found myself working night shifts at Target… as a janitor, which is really just a glorified, indoor garbageman. I ended up blindly following this career path for fifteen years, and while I eventually got really good at my duties, which included supervision, ordering supplies, fixing equipment, hiring and firing hundreds of people, and eventually earning the reputation of having the best and cleanest store in the city, my life remained woefully unfulfilled. At this point I STILL hadn’t recognized that my current position in life had aligned with what I had said all those years ago. It was during this time another seemingly random event altered the course of my life.

During lunch on one of our shifts I was sitting in the breakroom with the rest of the crew when the subject of the ideal life came up. I was maybe twenty years old by this time. When it came my turn, I was rather unprepared. I hesitated for a bit and in a moment of speculative inspiration I said, “I suppose I’d love to be in a position to provide jobs and better lives for the people I care about”. Nothing specific as to how to get there came to mind, but the objective came from a place of absolute sincerity. As fate would have it, that’s exactly what happened.

Eventually our employment by Target was terminated and the scope of work taken over by a subcontractor who kept us hired in the same positions. Some years later I was approached by my employer to take care of several Payless Shoesource stores here in town, maybe two dozen or so. At the time I was running janitorial duties in a Kmart and was too overwhelmed with additional obligations to bear the extra load. I had recently hired my roommate to be my lead man since he had lost his job at a tire company. I suggested to management he could possibly shift his responsibilities to earn some extra money and handle the contract himself. They both agreed and he took on the work load swiftly and efficiently, and as he got busier, I soon had to acquire a new lead man. At the time all we were required to do was to scrub and wax Payless’ backrooms, that’s it. However, several weeks later he approached me asking me how to clean their carpets… which was NOT a duty agreed to by our company. A store manager had asked him to do this on the side, so I covertly ‘borrowed’ the necessary equipment and met him at the first store for a training session. As time went on, he picked up more and more side jobs from them. Lock and safe combination changes, painting and repairing walls, parking lot clean ups, building shelving, fixing toilets, basically anything maintenance related, though indoor cleaning services remained the backbone of his income. He eventually took over the contract from our previous employers and he became the go-to guy for three districts, or about 100 stores. When one of the district managers was to be transferred to Seattle, and wanted the same convenient services there, I volunteered to move and work for him to help expand the company.

Within five years he had secured a maintenance contract for the entire company, more than 3,500 stores in several countries. As time went on his only direct employees were eventually limited to the original metro area as he farmed out everything else, basically giving Payless only one number to call when something needed fixed or improved. My own Father ended up an office manager for years for him and two of my best friends were also employed for quite some time. He also approached and acquired Einstein Bagels with the same strategy, though I don’t know if he got the entire chain. Payless is out of business these days, but he was smart enough to see the ship sinking, so he didn’t drown with them. These days he’s pared way down, but don’t fret, he’s well off enough now to not have to ever worry about his funds running out.

I’m NOT taking one iota of credit for his obvious ambition and years of hard, meticulous work, that’s all on him, and thank God for it, but it’s nice to know I had a hand in starting him on the path he continues to walk to this day, and it WAS, and continues to be a manifestation of that spontaneous statement I’d said in the mid-eighties.

The ultimate reveal is this. Everything of significance that has come to pass in my life has been born of some sort of statement. A thought all by itself (which of course precedes everything) was not enough. It turns out what has been voiced, both humorously and solemnly carries some sort of special energy, at least from my perspective. There’s not an event in my life I don’t recognize having as a hand in creating once I’ve spoken an opinion about how my future should unfold, and that goes for outcomes both wanted and unwanted… unfortunately. I don’t even have to dig all that far into my history to reveal those points.

So if you’re like me, be mindful of what you say. You might end up either the richest person in history, or the most miserable person in the lowest gutter. Personally I’m glad I’ve said more constructive intentions than self-destructive ones, and yes, I’ve said, and own, both.

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With Love and compassion,

Daniel Andrew Lockwood


158. DOMINO PROBLEMS

I know the burden of problems, the feeling of a hundred thousand overwhelming issues weighing down upon the spirit, crushing optimism and reinforcing hopelessness. When we are buried in the massive wreckage of addiction, the last thing we want to be reminded of is that all the carnage we’ve caused is irreparable. As a result we keep going, refusing to acknowledge our actions, intentionally ignorant of direction, apathetic to outcome. We run faster and with increased blindness towards an inevitable conclusion, oblivion.

This oblivion we sprint towards has, in its wake, collateral damage of a horrific nature, and our suspicions of this ruin ensure we arrogantly remain blindly on target. Even if we did glance back it would only serve to speed up our irrational resolve. The suicidal vehicle we become does its best to avoid even the slightest awareness of its consequences, and it only vaguely knows its final destination. Ironically, in this situation, we’ve convinced ourselves that self-termination is more welcome than letting the past catch up to us.

This belief, this self-fulfilling prophecy that corrective actions are futile is a conveniently egotistical lie. The proof that this point of view is indeed a lie presents itself in the lives of those who have had the humility to do nothing more than take their foot off the gas and ask someone else to drive. When I stopped drinking in 1995 I was only weeks from death. Weeks. My guess is I had maybe three months left at most. Even I, twenty-eight plus years later, am flabbergasted I’m alive, let alone productive, responsible, and at peace. The truth is I’m NOT one in a million, I’m one OF millions. I’ve gone from the center of the earth to the surface of the moon, and oddly, the trip wasn’t all that difficult.

Yes, the wreckage of our aftermath I spoke of earlier must be dealt with once our course corrects, but it is often not the overwhelming task it appears to be, and there’s an easy way to illustrate this point. Think of our past difficulties as if we were setting up dominos, only the longer we line them up, the larger and closer together they get. It might start with being late more than normal and proceed into treating people rudely, then avoiding debts, and then our health deteriorates, and finally DUI’s and jail time. While this example of a timeline may sound stereotypically simple, the point is still easily understood. The behaviors, unfortunately, are not separate. Once we start, we accumulate patterns, they compound and gain negative power, meaning by the time we are at our most destructive, we are continuing everything all at once. What was once a small storm has turned into a hurricane.

So what happens if we turn around with both courage and guidance and push back on the biggest domino? What takes place if we face our largest set of problems first and tackle them? Well, it eventually loses balance and topples into the one behind it, which, by the way, is smaller. Then THAT one falls into the next one which is even smaller, and so on. The point is that if we correct the largest things first, then by attachment we are on our way to attending to almost everything else. Keep in mind I said they ALSO get closer the bigger they are, so there may come a time when the smallest ones may need a separate nudge.

Let’s illustrate a less intimidating example. Dropping a two pack a day smoking habit, which costs someone an average of six-hundred dollars a month (or over seven thousand dollars a year), not only increases health benefits, but adds funds to take care of possibly neglected bills. In turn this could ease mental anguish and lead to a better nights sleep which produces more energy to potentially keep the house clean and walk the dog. All this comes about from doing the big stuff first.

I get the tendency to look at everything as a group and see a monster we’ve created that’s just too big to handle, but I PROMISE it’s an illusion, one that the ego keeps in place so we have continued excuses for destructive behavior.

At the end of July 1995 I owed thousands from bounced checks. I had burned bridges that needed to be totally rebuilt. My health was, at the time, at a new low, and I had nothing in my future to entice me to keep going. You may not believe this, but it took less than one year of facing my demons to virtually erase all my pervious iniquities. One thing handled led to three, which took care of ten, and then fifty, and so on.  

Keep this in mind. There are legions of people that were worse than you (and me) who have managed to emerge from the dark spiral of desperation and live lives of high value. They stand as steadfast examples of bravery over cowardice, and modesty over vanity. Let their path inspire yours.

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With Love and compassion,

Daniel Andrew Lockwood

157. 28 YEARS IN RECOVERY

It’s been an odd year. My last job was so involved that I’ve had little time to attend to my blog. If you’re from Denver, or you’re a South Park fan, then you know about Casa Bonita, which is really a bit of an indoor carnival/Mexican restaurant. If memory serves, it seats up to seven hundred at a time, so it’s damn big. Since the previous menu needed purged and badly upgraded a world-class chef was also brought on board to revamp the menu. Both her skills and her personality are impressive. The food is indeed much better as are the inner workings of the establishment itself. From May of last year to June of this year I was the plumbing foreman in charge of the remodel. We had to sign NDA’s (understandably) and other paperwork that would allow the creators, Matt Stone and Trey Parker, to turn us into cartoon characters if they so choose. It was a huge challenge and I’m glad it’s over.

During this time I’ve been dealing with hyper increased arthritis, which my rheumatologist says I have in every joint now. I can even feel it in my jaw which clicks and crunches, but thank God it doesn’t keep me from being a blabbermouth, at least not yet. Two weeks ago I went in for a pro-op to get my left knee replaced on August 2nd (the right one was done a year and a half ago) only to find out, in their words, I have massive blood clots in both lungs and behind my left knee. The blood thinners I’m on are causing migraines which are pretty disabling, but they are getting better. Also, because of the clots I have trouble breathing which adds to my energy level being pretty low. For now (but not forever, I like to work too much) I’m on short term disability which is a nice safety net. 

One thing’s for sure, other people are definitely going though much worse than me, in fact the weekend I went into the hospital a beloved coworker was in a horrific motorcycle accident. He’s alive but his injuries are extensive. Another of my coworkers has cancer. They are on my mind all the time.

If all these events are a test to see if I’ll turn back to the bottle, then I’m winning hands down. This path never enters my mind as a way to escape. Last night I had a lucid dream where I was using again. I was lying in bed, knowing I was ‘awake’ and asking myself if my wife could smell my breath while I tried to go to the bathroom without looking like I was drunk. These episodes feel as real as anything in life and it always takes me a while to shake off the illusion. I’ve said it before, my occasional nightmares of slipping are a precious gift that keeps the horror close, even twenty-eight years later.

My wife bought me the item in the picture above. It’s nice she cares and celebrates with me.

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With Love and Compassion, Daniel Andrew Lockwood

156. FOR ART’S SAKE

I am, and always will be, a fan of art, both as an observer and in practice. I’m an artist myself, one who chooses to express my proclivity through many mediums. These days writing is my main outlet, but I do have a painting and drawing studio in my home, one filled with all kinds of resourceful tools; too many, in fact. My collection is so extensive I had to buy a large upright rolling toolbox in place of a traditional taboret. I own a few easels as well as an ancient drafting table along with its traditional accoutrements. In paintbrushes alone I hoard over two hundred, and I have stacks of various art pads and canvases. I must admit, however, that my amateur skills in this area have waned as I have grown older, and admittedly, lazier. Most of the time they collect dust, but at least they are there when the mood strikes.

Often, when I mention a personal inclination and enthusiasm towards an artistic frame of mind, many of my colleagues will, without hesitation, deny that they have the same tendencies. While I’m hesitant to call anyone a liar, they are, in fact, totally incorrect. The stereotypical and shallow-minded definition of art is not limited to the contents of museums, libraries, and concert halls, it literally saturates our surroundings, and this includes all things both man-made and natural.

The inability or unwillingness to recognize this in everything is a subconscious attitude of apathy towards the world. This choice robs us of a connection from spirit (or imagination) to manifestation, and without this frame of mind, all the work we do becomes nothing more than programming and drudgery. It’s important to point out that almost all of us were, as children, deeply involved in all kinds of artistic activities. Crayons and glue, clay, colored paper and paper airplanes, coloring books and paint were associated with leisure and fun. So was singing, pretending, and looking for dragons in the clouds. This is because we were still connecting to the world from the inside out rather than the outside in. We wanted to reach out to everything at one point and make it blossom, but for many the reverse eventually happens and sadly, we decide our efforts are a waste of time. Instead of creating the rain that makes things grow, we choose to believe it’s better or easier to wait for the right conditions to come to us. We want reward without action, not realizing the reward IS the action. Everyone has an inner garden, and while some have ignored or neglected theirs, they can always be revived to a point of flourishing if properly attended to. The seeds of creativeness may lie dormant, but they are never nonexistent.

Passionate expression isn’t just a personal pursuit, it is an enviable one, meaning the person who’s best at envisioning and subsequently producing something, can often be an inspiration to others. This action radiates magnetism and demands an audience. Not only that, the process is transferable. It can be consciously shifted into other, unexplored, or unconsidered areas. For example, if a person is an expert at restoring cars, there’s no reason this obsessive energy can’t be refocused into becoming a skillful cook. 

They say practice makes perfect. This clichéd saying is its own dichotomy. If practice makes perfect, then the time will come when practice is no longer necessary, and since perfection is both unattainable and highly subjective, then practice is a waste of time to begin with. Personally, I don’t like the word practice. It’s been my experience that the Pavlovian response to the (covert) definition can stir up connections to previously perceived failures, and in turn it can lead to disenchantment and negative outcomes. I feel the word persistence is much more productive and positive. The vernacular may be subtle, but the consequences are obvious. The road of persistence is about the journey, and the only goal is to make the journey itself more and more pleasant.

And so we come to the idea of art in practical applications, not just as an occasional emotional outlet, but as an extension of everything we do. If we allow our inner spirit to influence outer actions, we reinforce purpose. If we apply an artistic frame of mind to most duties they’ll cease to be strictly motivated by gain and eventually become driven by how we deliver them. The side benifit is people will ALWAYS be willing to pay more for that which is done with an attention to detail and a disposistion for beauty. Gain (or profit) then becomes automatic. If we find a way to anchor enjoyment to our responsibilities, then does it not become a habit we want to repeat and enhance? With practice all movement becomes dance, all words become poetry, all we touch becomes sculpture, all we hear becomes music, and all we see becomes one vast painting.


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With Love and Compassion, Daniel Andrew Lockwood



155. WORDS IN THE DARK

When I was between the ages of nine and eleven, we moved into our third house in Colorado. My new room in this home happened to be in the attic. It was small, but the entire floor was all mine. Between first and tenth grade we ended up living in no less than nine places, so looking back, there was a decent variety of spaces to compare it to. I imagine this one ended up being the most memorable because of the privacy it provided. It had its own full-sized staircase with a door at the bottom. There was also a window that faced the backyard which not only helped to give the room a complete feel, but, when necessary, eased the hot summer nights and allowed the droning of crickets to fill an otherwise extreme mountain silence. My parents rarely came up as it was just big enough for my twin bed, a dresser, and a kid sized desk. If my memory is correct, they couldn’t even stand up fully. This was the best real estate I was to occupy up until I was in my twenties.

Over the stairway was an ancient globe light fixture that had a pull string switch I could reach from my bed. For some reason my father had put a low wattage blue bulb in it, and this ended up being fortuitous. When I needed to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, it was plenty to illuminate the way, but I often used it for more clandestine reasons, reading.

Once I started third grade, I was already quite the reader. Not because it came naturally, but more because the idea itself was intoxicating and therefore a worthwhile and satisfying pursuit. My parents had started teaching me at home when I was quite young, and when I realized what was (possibly) printed on undiscovered pages, it was like discovering new worlds. I’m also sure that being an only child fed into my favorite pastime. For most of my childhood all I really wanted for gifts were books. I recall going to the school library (still in third grade) determined to check out the biggest book I could find and tackle it. Now, I was focused on the BIGGEST, which in my mind meant size, so I’m glad I didn’t go for “The Complete works of Shakespeare” or something of that nature. The one I did pick happened to be “The Wonderful Wizard of OZ”. Honestly, it was a real struggle. My parents helped when asked and I bleeped over a lot of words, but I did make it through.

Soon after finishing the novel we moved into the house I previously mentioned. A neighbor who was a friend of my parents, and was the manager of a bookstore, knew I’d done this and to my surprise bought me “The Marvelous Land of OZ” for Christmas the following year, which is the second book in the original series of fourteen. I had no idea the storyline continued. When I found this out I went out of my freaking mind, and she was thrilled. She also bought me the complete boxed set of “Winnie the Pooh” which I adored. We called her ‘skinny Jenny’ and she was, but I remember her more for being very pretty and sweet. She had no children of her own so I suppose that played into her motives. In any case, Baum ended up as a staple in my library, even to this day. We knew her long enough for her to introduce me at a later age to the “Chronicles of Narnia” and “The Phantom Tollbooth”. The books she enthusiastically gifted ended up being my go-to fantasy escapes for years. To this day “Tollbooth” is still my favorite book.

Most nights, after I knew my parents were asleep, I’d quietly pop on my light, dim though it was, and read for hours, always with mixed feelings of paranoia that I’d be caught, and euphoria that I was getting away with it. At some point I had a little flashlight I used occasionally under my covers (this felt better, probably because it was sneakier) but batteries were hard to come by. One of my other stand-by authors during this time was Thornton W. Burgess who wrote the “Old Mother West Wind” series, which no one seems to remember these days even though he wrote close to one hundred seventy books.

Being read to by various teachers back in the day was my favorite class activity. It easily eclipsed art projects, softball, or even recess, and it too spurned me to continue feeding the habit. Here is where I first heard “James and the Giant Peach” (along with other Roald Dahl titles), “The Pushcart War” and “Half Magic” and at least a dozen other long forgotten titles.

By fourth and fifth grade my path found the Henry Reed series and Beverly Cleary’s collection, which included the joyful “The Mouse and the Motorcycle. “Charlotte’s Web” and “Stewart Little” by E. B. White were there as well. The road of discovery continued later through Edgar Rice Burroughs’ library, which I’ve often called ‘romance novels for guys’. Several hundred of his titles (I was an avid collector for years) in various editions, some extremely rare, still sit on my shelves to this day. As I grew older new interests and more serious publications caught my eye. In the eighties newspapers (remember those?) and magazines, particularly those of a scientific nature, were common distractions. Eventually my tastes shifted into self-help, psychological, and even spiritual titles, especially once I sobered up in nineteen ninety-five. Wayne W. Dyer, Alan Watts, and Viktor E. Frankl are currently part of my ever expanding foundation of influence. Audio books are a large part of my itinerary these days as well, and sites like YouTube provide an almost endless supply of free, previously unconsidered publications. Altogether my library consists of about three hundred audio titles and three thousand print ones, and no… I have NOT read them all.

One thing is certain, reading, whether it’s in tactile form or in audio format, definitely continues to feed my imagination, creativity, and probably most importantly, my intentionally evolving point of view. I hope the journey never wanes. I’m blessed to have had such passionate teachers, friends, and family who guided me into the world of other people’s expression.

And now we come the the point of why I wanted to write this post on a blog that is focused on self-help and recovery for beginners. If you’re feeling empty, lost, or overwhelmed, read, please trust me. Contrary to what one may think, (most) books don’t really take the reader anywhere but inward, to the spirit. They unmask and reveal our inner selves, and that’s the best discovery of all.

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With Love and Compassion, Daniel Andrew Lockwood

 

 

 

 

154. GRUMBLE, GRUMBLE…

I find it endlessly amusing that those who constantly grumble about others being offended are themselves the biggest group of people who are offended. By opening their mouths, they become instant hypocrites. Not only that, they have no idea they’re even doing it, and when I point it out while trying to keep a straight face, they fall apart like wet toilet paper.

Fun times.

Now, you might find this odd, but I’m not the type of man who sees complaining as a waste of time or even necessarily negative. There’s a genuine reason for my stance, and it’s supported by this observation.

“Nothing ever changes unless someone becomes dissatisfied with how things are.”

This means one must voice a tone of dissatisfaction when it comes to either altering or manufacturing unwanted situations. So far, the idea has neutral energy. Obviously one could become disillusioned and angry with their position in life and as a result, they decide to take actions which turn out to be abusive and unethical. If the chain of events following said declaration hurts or endangers others, then the original intention is doomed to failure. Unfortunately collateral damage along this route is frequent. Jails and prisons are full of people who have instigated paths of widespread and ignorant harm, so there’s inarguable evidence of  an incorrect direction in life. On the other hand, one can look at the world and envision magnifying the needs and dreams of not just themselves, but others, which in my case will usually trigger a colorful and vocal response… in the form of complaining. THIS is the catalyst to all constructive change in the world, and while it has a similar tone to those who practice selfish goals, it has a totally different quality.

The temptation to mindlessly follow the crowd is high, and I’ve caught myself occasionally jumping off the cliff with those who practice such (often covert) self-defeating conduct. I’ve talked about this before, but it seems most people whine because in their minds it includes them in what they think are the voices of reason when in fact it simply adds volume to the problem. Adding problems to problems eventually make for gigantically overwhelming problems. This is why real solutions, however well intended, voiced, or funded, often get buried by the mountain it faces. It doesn’t happen because the solutions aren’t good, it’s because those heaping fuel on the bonfire are blindly motivated to keep the habit going. Why? Because the more people can distract from their own shortcomings by pointing fingers, the more they will continue to do so. The droning of the masses is loudest when it’s convinced spotlighting more problems will eliminate what it is they are feeding. The most common mantra is “We know this is a mess, but wait… what about?” which is akin to tossing HUGE logs into the inferno.

It’s a cancerous loop, and because it often is, we instinctively see complaining as unwanted behavior. It isn’t. What I’m getting at is this, please don’t think you’re complaining needlessly if you actually intend to follow through on creating a positive difference. Everything which has turned the world to a better place has ‘discontent’ as its opening move. This is easy enough to verify, by the way. History is replete with examples of good things happening where the first move was a single voice (or action) offering a needed or inspiring message on the perfect stage. Rosa Parks comes to mind. Be aware, however, that solutions, REAL solutions, will illuminate the REAL problems which are keeping them from manifesting, and this usually means forcing fingers to turn and point at themselves. Enemies, therefore, are unavoidable, and knowing this ahead of time takes courage.

Obviously one cannot extinguish a volcano by pouring a glass of water into it, but if they are brave enough to advertise their action (protest) to a massive and attentive audience, then it becomes the first domino to fall in a chain of inevitability. If we make ourselves a part of a solution which is first expressed by complaint, we generate and demonstrate the best of who we are through intention followed by action.

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With Love and Compassion, Daniel Andrew Lockwood

147. A BLOODY CHILDHOOD

My childhood was lived in fear. I never had any siblings so I was sole the victim of my mother’s rage several times a week. Many times she would set an alarm clock next to the counter where I was washing dishes and if it went off before I was done, she’d start beating me with stretched out wire coat hangers at the sink. If I missed even one speck of anything, same consequence. I was screwed either way. Yes, I’ll admit I was indeed slow and I hated doing it. Gosh, I wonder why? When she was too lazy to vacuum, she used to make me crawl around picking things out of carpet while she pointed out what would catch her eye, and if I missed something, WHAM! Usually my whippings would not commence unless she made me strip totally naked first. As a little kid, even as young as kindergarten, I was often left home alone, and on the way out the door mother would take great pleasure in turning around to say, “When we get back you’re going to get a spanking.” The waiting was always worse than the actual incident; mental torture combined with physical pain.

All too often I’d go to school bruised, bleeding through my clothing. No one ever noticed that I knew of. I was the primary target of her mental instability and usually for some sort lousy excuse like “You’re not like other children, you’re much worse.” At the time I thought I actually was the catalyst of her behavior. As a result I spent a good deal of my childhood in introspection. Looking back all I can think is, wow. I was six, seven, eight, nine years old, who does this to a little kid? I was fed, clothed, housed, and so on, but to be honest, I never felt loved.

By default my father was just as guilty as my mother because although he was aware of what was happening, he never tried to stop anything. I didn’t realized this until it was pointed out in my early thirties. THAT sucked.

It’s a good thing my parents never had more kids. Who knows how they would have turned out.

There’s no doubt I was different and weird, still am, proudly I might add. Even as a boy my thoughts and behaviors were odd. “I’m learning patience, I’m learning what NOT to do to others when I get older, I’m finding other ways to eke out joy and peace from other avenues.” I was admittedly prone to be self-centered, loud, and pushy. These were traits I (hopefully) eventually grew out of as I became more and more self-aware.

Now, my life was NOT constant torture. I got birthday and Christmas presents. I had a few friends. I never went hungry. My parents did fight at the top of their lungs at least once a week, but they did not do drugs or drink, and of the two channels that we could get in the mountains, at least one that came in clear got my go-to, get away from reality show five days a week, Star Trek!

For years I blamed my adult misfortunes on a messed-up childhood. When I finally sobered up in 1995, my recovery came with a gift that allowed my burden to no longer be a matter of any consequence. I stopped blaming the past and started owning the present.

There’s another definition for removing blame from our lives it’s called…

FORGIVENESS.

Read on with a little courage and you just might find some peace.

Now, forgiveness is NOT what most people define it to be. It’s not saying you’re okay with what the other person did. It IS saying that you’re going to simply drop all those feelings of bitterness, hostility, rage, angst, revenge, darkness, and so on you may have toward someone. Why? Because no matter what, no one can take away your pain, no matter how much they may want to, no matter how much you want them to, you are the one who must drop it. You are the only one with the power to let go of the feelings that are ruining your life and giving you cancer.

Get it now? They cannot feel or remove YOUR pain, ever. No one is capable of that no matter how much of an empath they claim to be.

Good. I’m happy you understand.

My parents were, and still are, just screwed up people, and that’s all. In the middle of a shared insanity they had a kid who was caught in between. When I realized this it broke my heart. I have pity for them now. Their pain is something I do not have the power to remove. I wish I could.

You know, I was drinking two-fifths of vodka a day in the mid-nineties and it eventually caused an aneurysm while I was driving, yet I’m still here and so are you.

I have a great life. I have a beautiful wife who also is my best friend, a very good, well-paying job, a nice home, my credit rating is about as high as it can get, we take nice vacations, and we have plans for the future that include all kinds of pleasant things. Many years ago I would have used a gun on myself had I owned one. Glad I didn’t.

All the miracles and gifts I’ve received since my mental rebirth have been because I refuse to blame anyone for anything in my life anymore. NO ONE AT ALL. By the way, this includes everything labeled both good and bad.

Can people get over childhood neglect and abuse? Yes, and when done right it’ll propel one to the stratosphere of achievement.

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With Love and compassion, Daniel Andrew Lockwood

146. LET’S TALK TALK

     

     I like to talk. A lot, probably too much. I know the all too familiar taste of my own foot, and the bitterness of saying the exact wrong thing at the worst possible moment. Over the years these incidents have forced me to hesitate ahead of opening my mouth. They’ve also taught me (through way too much trial and error) how to be tactful. One would think I’d slow down eventually, but I haven’t actually backed off my tendency to blither away with joyful abandon. I have, however, fine-tuned my idiot meter to a point where I rarely cringe after saying something.

     I enjoy listening to people who speak well, and have a healthy jealously of those who tend to address their audience as if they have a script memorized. I’d LOVE to think my skills in this area are above average, and someday maybe I’ll get a chance to test my confidence in this arena. I’m currently working to do podcasting on YouTube to link to this blog and we’ll se how this venture plays out.

     I believe the true art of talking is not necessarily about what’s being said, but in large part it has to do with knowing and respecting the audience. If don’t say something that’s wanting to be heard, I’ve lost the game before it even starts. I feel the absolute BEST are… comedians, and ALL great comics have the same three behaviors in common.
 

  • They will NOT say something they themselves don’t find interesting or amusing. One cannot help but laugh at someone who can’t get through their own joke without cracking up. I’ve seen plenty of comedians who are obviously going through old material, and it shows.
  • They ALL have a visual act that accompanies their delivery. Even such people as Stephen Wright and Bob Newhart, who are both famously reserved and indifferent, STILL present their characters with skill and precision. When you think of a few of the stratospheric names of the comic stage, George Carlin, Robin Williams, Rodney Dangerfield, Jim Carrey, Steve Martin, and Jerry Seinfeld you’ll have an instant picture of them in your head because of how attached their demeanor is to their content. God, especially Rodney. All you have to do is think of his face and you start laughing.
  • For good or bad they wait for the audience to react. Whether it’s thunderous applause and laughter, or bushels of rotten tomatoes catapulted at them, they practice timing. Johnny Carson, at least in my opinion, was a both a horrible AND a brilliant comedian because his schtick was knowing he sucked and then playing off the reaction rather than the delivery. THAT’S confidence in yourself, and people are drawn to it.

     You’ve probably seen performers who were just shuffling from one joke to the next with almost no variation in their voice or stance and wondered what was missing. I would say watching mannequins with monotoned prerecorded messages is pretty much the same experience for a lot of wannabes. If YOU don’t enjoy what you do, sell with enthusiasm (or at least a gimmick), and allow criticism, both good and bad, no one will pay attention. Enough about comedians, but you must admit, they are great examples of the art of speaking.

     Actors are also in the fold, and those who speak with magnificent skill are well remembered. Personally I’ve admired Cary Grant, Yul Brenner, Sean Connery, Jack Nicholson, and my favorite, Anthony Hopkins. Keep in mind that they too also have a very practiced and recognizable body language which works in perfect synchronization with whatever they’re saying.

     I’m well aware all of my examples so far are men, which stands to reason because I’m a man, and I’m going to be drawn to align and emulate those whom I admire. I, of course, in no way am purposefully ignoring women, it’s just that I’m more comfortable equating my aspirations with other males.

     So, onward with what I want to keep “talking” about.

     When I need to address someone on an important topic I use a trick to keep my thought process focused and flowing with a nice variety of words. Almost anyone can pick this skill up and I have explained and demonstrated it to several people over the years who were surprised that they too could do it so effortlessly. In the early nineties I was watching an interview on an early news show with the wife of someone who was then considered a dynamic public speaker. This is where I first heard of this technique. The interviewer asked her what made him so good at what seemed like instant, unprepared speeches. She said he clears his mind and imagines a blank blackboard in front of him. While he speaks, he simply let’s words manifest which will perpetuate what he’s trying to communicate to the listener. He then picks the next best option and continues the process until it’s no longer needed. I tried it, and to this day when I really do concentrate on keeping conversation on topic, it serves perfectly. Give it a shot and see for yourself. Now, you WILL find yourself pausing occasionally to make good choices, but to the listener it comes across as if they are witnessing someone who really cares about saying the right thing, which, of course, they are.

     One last point (and it is a selling point) I’d like to make is the usefulness of Toastmasters International. I’ve attended before, and they are extremely helpful for almost anyone who needs to hone their speaking skills for their careers or other personal reasons, and that seems to include the vast majority of humans to begin with. They allow people to attend for free for a while (which I encourage) but they’ll eventually ask them to sign up to get past a certain point. The dues are minimal and totally worth it. It’s been some time, but I believe they may be around 200.00 a year with payments allowed. Assignment material and other membership items like newsletters will be sent to your home. There is a structured itinerary and you can usually proceed at your own pace. The “classes” I’m familiar with usually last two hours once a week and have several segments in which members will participate including, speeches, interviews, telling jokes, improv, AND evaluation of your classmates among other things. It’s pretty casual and the people are, in my experience, very friendly. They also sponsor contests that go all the way to major cities and beyond. They are, as the name indicates, worldwide with thousands of chapters.

     Remember, speaking is a skill, one which can be mastered and leveraged to sell and create the deepest and wildest of dreams. Maybe someday I’ll see you out there changing the world because you read this post. You never know.

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With Love and Compassion, Daniel Andrew Lockwood


145. THE BRAVEST WORDS

I’ve always felt the idea of people suggesting to “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” when all hope has drained away is not only a waste of time, it’s the height of indifference. Those who jump to criticize may think they see a solution, but there’s no way to guarantee the person being judged will embrace their opinions. Some dig holes so deep that eventually all they see is darkness and all they hear is silence. When hope vanishes, so does our desire to take action. If you’ve ever been in a place so depressing it reaches all the way to your soul, you’ll know what I mean. On occasion I’ve been asked “How do you know when you hit bottom?” In my experience it comes down to having only two choices left, we’re either willing give up completely, or we start screaming for assistance. I prefer to endorse the latter.

I don’t want to give the impression we don’t (usually) own the skills needed to find our way out of unwanted situations, of course we do. In most cases our setbacks are balanced by a combination of exercising the proper emotions and taking necessary actions. Unfortunately, many eventually find themselves slaves to a broken mindset, and that mindset is “Whatever the cost, I want instant gratification.” This manifests in a variety of ways. Drugs and alcohol are probably the most common, but there are others. Gambling, food, shopping, sex, and many others are also themes of self-abuse. The common denominator is they cater to physical cravings rather than mental or spiritual ones. All are designed to change how we feel from the outside in.

When we are deeply lost in nightmarish places, our only way out alive requires bravery. This means we must sidestep our OWN ego, embrace humility, and with loud sincerity, scream for help. Help is therefore the one of the bravest words. While there are certainly legions of people who look for any reason to stomp on us, and are more than happy to see us fail so they can feel “they’re winning the race”, there are actually MORE willing to reach out and help. Not only that, those who offer assistance normally ask for nothing in return, other than to perhaps “pay it forward”. If you believe the opposite, you’ve embraced one of the biggest lies in life.

This is an important step to growth, the first one, but it is NOT the path itself. The journey from desperation to gratitude will require an even more courageous act, and here is where many stumble. The highest act of bravery is embracing help; acceptance is therefore the bravest word. This is where we face a point of no return, and many times the familiarity of pain is more comforting than an unknown future, no matter how promising it looks. When we accept what we ask for, when we are willing to pay any price for salvation, we pass the ultimate test. Unfortunately, we cannot ask for help with conditions attached, it doesn’t work that way. This is why we often hesitate. It means admitting we are broken and unable to stand on our own. We must totally rely on the direction and experience of others if we are to survive. Faith in the hand that reaches out is an act of humility. Trust is the word that embraces the most courage because assistance is ALWAYS under the discretion of those who offer it. We aren’t allowed to make the rules, and failure to accept this can be a massive roadblock to redemption.

How do we determine if a so-called lifeline is a deception, a trick designed to take advantage of our situation? Is there a way to know if the hand willing to pull us from the abyss is the right one? This is easier than it sounds. Ask yourself, “Does this person have in their life what I need in mine? Do they practice what is necessary for nurturing the spirit rather than the exploiting the body? In other words, look inside rather than outside for the characteristics you seek. Evaluation of a potential savior is not that difficult, nor does it take all that much time.

There are some bullet points, that, in my opinion will help refine an assessment of those promising salvation.

  • If your first reaction is anger or insult, this is a good sign. Why? Because those who makes you instantly happy are catering (subconsciously) to your old beliefs and patterns, and since this is what’s causing pain and suffering to begin with, you’ll just have to make up your mind this response is both healthy and normal.
  • Do they want to clone themselves or or do they simply want help you become the best version of yourself you can be? Most criticize intending to inflate their own ego, they seek to justify their behavior by showcasing how you “aren’t like them”. Those who point out your cracks and flaws without looking for applause are in the correct mindset. This one can difficult to assess, take your time here.
  • Everyone has flaws, everyone. This is one of the most important pieces of advice I’ve ever been told, it’s difficult to practice, but 100% on target. “Do NOT look for examples of the teachings in the teachers, just look for examples of the teachings.” Why? Because when we judge the source before evaluating the information, we lose both instructor and lesson.

If you don’t think I know what I’m talking about, you’re wrong. I’ve been to the edge of oblivion, and I know how it feels. I also know how to get back, and trust me, without a map, we’re forever lost. It really does seem all of mankind’s pain comes from the unwillingness to pull over and ask for directions.

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With Love and Compassion, Daniel Andrew Lockwood