Appreciation

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

 

 

 

 

153. TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS IN RECOVERY

When I turned 27 years old, I stood at the edge of a cliff. It would be three more years before I sobered up, and the time between the worst of my addiction and my surprising salvation was to be hell on Earth. I started breaking down with tremendous strides, both physically and mentally. My pace back then was a handle of vodka a day. I did, however, manage to keep working, though looking back, I don’t know how. My boss (who I’m still friends with today, go figure) was either oddly sympathetic or just didn’t care. In any case what was required of me, I accomplished for the most part, so repercussions were rare. Since I was a one-man crew and no one else relied on me showing up, I would often blow off my duties in favor of staying home and getting hammered. Putting off my workload was rather easy since it required no sacrifice (other than broken expectations) on the part of the customer, so this “logic” justified my ever-increasing incompetence.

During this period I was sent north to scrub and wax a TJ Maxx in Fort Collins, one of many such similar trips. I usually felt like garbage, but this night was especially tough. After being left alone to my duties I decided to call a hotline looking for help, mental help, and all they did was repeatedly ask me if I was going to hurt myself. I said no several times, but they were persistent with the question. They ultimately asked me if there was anything in the store I could hurt myself with, which startled me. I remember saying I suppose I could take a running start with my head down at a brick wall. When I told them that, they called the police department. Luckily the front doors were locked with just a turn bolt inside (they normally were keyed on both sides) and after talking for a couple of minutes through the glass, I reluctantly let them in. They didn’t officially arrest me, but they did shuttle me to the station after contacting the store manager.

I had acting normal down to a science even when I was falling over inside, and they were surprised to meet with someone who was outwardly, quite calm and stable. I passed a breathalyzer so there was nothing they could charge me with. We talked about my issues but little else came of the incident. They were kind, and after a few hours they brought me back to my truck and I drove home. Looking back these days, I understand why the cops were called. The person on the other end of the phone could not act unless I was a danger to myself, so they played the script they had. I disagreed with their motives, but to them they were warranted.

The horrors of the days to come couldn’t have been described by Dante’. My trips to the bathroom were always a bloody mess, literally. The first time I turned the toilet red I almost passed out from the sheer sight of it. The second time, I didn’t care. My urine was consistently pink, and I could spit blood. Nose bleeds were common too. My bouts of dipteral tremens were exceedingly common, and blackouts, once something I had sidestepped, became the norm. How I managed to live through those times could only be described as astonishing. How I got out was miraculous.

Today I celebrate my 27th year in recovery. Twenty-seven years ago I was a liability to anyone who knew me, and truthfully, to most people I met casually as well. On the 28th of July in 1995 I took my last drink and have been actively in front of my demons since. I have so many things to be grateful for these days and constant practice of this attitude feeds both continued resolve and a life of abundance. There’s nothing on earth I would trade my journey for.

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With Love and Compassion, Daniel Andrew Lockwood

152. PAYING IT FORWARD

When I was in kindergarten we lived in a modest apartment in Bakersfield California. The couple who resided above us were older and the husband was retired from an unusual job, he had owned and maintained a variety of vending machines which included those small glass encased ones at the entrances and exits of stores designed to entice kids into begging money from their parents for cheap trinkets and bits of candy or, of course, gumballs. Pennies were easy to talk my parents out of, but silver coinage was another matter, so when I did manage to get my hands on larger denominations, my excitement rose considerably. Nothing I managed to buy was all that thrilling, but it was the anticipation of the unknown which made my eyes go wide at the sight of colorful and usually pointless baubles.

One night there came a knock.

“Good evening, I’m the gentleman who lives upstairs.”

My mother let the man in while I bounded towards the visitor with enthusiasm. My fear of strangers at that age was limited to one-on-one encounters, meaning while in the presence of my parents any such apprehension would never have manifested. As he stood there with his hands behind his back, he looked at me and smiled. 

“I have a gift for your son” and with that he produced a good sized plastic bag stuffed with dozens of gumball machine prizes. I was stunned that an almost total stranger would go out of his way to randomly give me something without really knowing who I was. All my previous gifts up until then had some sort of expectation attached to them. My relatives and parents gave me all sorts of things, but they were always because an occasion such as my birthday or Christmas had arrived. This was the first instance of random generosity I had encountered. He went on to explain where he had acquired his stash of miniature toys and thought I’d be happy to have them.

None of the individual items were all that impressive, but the event itself has become one of my favorite memories. As a result of this incident, I too was eventually inspired to periodically give without expectation of repayment, especially to strangers. Every once in a while when the mood strikes me I’ll take notice of the abundance in my life and the urge to share will strike. If the person does know I’ve done something, and they say they would like to eventually repay me, I always say, “just pay it forward.” I’ve occasionally purchased items when the person in front of me realizes they can’t afford everything they’ve picked out. Sometimes I’ll buy the order behind me in line at the drive through. I’ve also bought scratch tickets for whoever’s next in line, whispering to the cashier to tell them it’s a gift.

Other times I’ll be a total nutcase about it and I WILL ask for something in return, but this is rare.

A few years ago I was walking into a 7-11 and a young woman approached me asking for a dollar. One dollar, nothing more. I told her to wait. As finished my transaction and stepped out I said, “I’ll give you the dollar, but first you have to do this.” and I started doing the “old prospector dance”. After a few steps I stopped and went Ta-Dum! With a  dumbfounded expression she informed me she wasn’t going to do that, and I said with a goofy voice and an overanimated gesture, “Then you can’t have it.” She looked annoyed so I made a compromise, “I’ll tell you what… I’ll do it with you.” She sighed and we both started dancing in front of the store. My goal was to get her to at least smile, which she eventually did when we stopped. I then handed her the bill. “Here you go, not only did you get your dollar, but now you feel better too.” Honestly, I think being a dork is in my genes. 

To this day if I have change (or I can bum it off my wife) and I pass by those machines full of juvenile surprises, I’ll buy a bunch and leave them on top for the next kid to unexpectedly find so they too can share in a tiny bit of the joy I felt as a boy. Maybe someone years from now will remember their random discovery and they too will be inspired to pay it forward. 

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With Love and Compassion, Daniel Andrew Lockwood

139. SEEING 2020 – 20/20

I’d be lying if I said this year has been easy for me. Just like almost all of us on Earth, the pandemic has quite honestly hit close to home, touching everyone I know in one form or another. Early on a friend of mine at work lost his father to it. I looked over one day and saw him weeping, still barely holding the phone in his hands. Some of my family members have had it and I’m beyond grateful they are still with us. Our planet has been, and continues to be scared, in pain, mourning, and yes, angry, frustrated, and just plain exhausted. We feel caged, lashing out at anyone who tightens our restrictions, all the while not realizing we are the ones who built the prison to begin with.   

I see 2020 as a divine test, an exam we will either pass or fail. There’s no middle grade on this one, and regrettably, it isn’t over yet. Religious people always want some sort of “sign from above” hoping for divine rescue to whisk away the darkness falling upon them while at the same time obliterating the perceived enemy. What they don’t seem to realize is the hand of God, when it comes to correcting the mistakes man has burdened himself with, has historically come in the form of floods, disease, and unfortunately, extinction. God’s solution to our problems (when they get completely out of control) is to effectively erase almost everyone on both sides of the conflict. If we are to survive, if we are to persevere, we MUST look to each other for salvation.

What then is the best way to help our fellow human? Is it by charitable means? Is it through kindness, tolerance, and prayer? Should our energies be focused in the name of cooperation and encouragement? I do indeed believe these are worthwhile paths, and I swear I practice every one of them, but in my experience there’s a much higher calling we all can choose to act upon, the projection of constant gratitude.

I’ve been debating whether I should put a list on this entry of my setbacks this year. Everyone has a similar one, and many, in fact most I would imagine, have ones that make mine look rather tame, but I thought it best to show that even though I can come up with an inventory of negative events, I’m ALSO capable of generating one of a positive nature. I think the exercise of doing this is good not only good for my soul, it’s also capable of resonating beyond just my tiny existence and will hopefully inspire others to do the same.  

I’ll try to keep what might be interpreted as complaining or, of course, generating excuses for self-destructive behavior, to an unemotional, somewhat dry summary.

  • There have been deaths, my father in February, and a coworker, one of whom I was quite fond of. He was the son of a supervisor of mine, the same man who hired me almost twenty-two years ago. He (my supervisor) committed suicide the day after thanksgiving in 2019, so now both are gone.
  • I’ve had some weird medical issues pertaining to, of all things, amnesia. I’ve experienced two episodes this year, the latest, and more disabling of the two, taking place on December 1st of this year. The doctors, who have been slow to respond, still have no idea what’s causing this. I’m currently not working as a result.
  • Our Hawaii vacation we had paid for lock stock, and barrel, was, for obvious reasons, cancelled. We got back about 25% of our costs. Several thousand dollars lost.
  • By my own hand, literally, I’ve regained a ton of weight I managed to lose last year.

Those were the big “negative” events beyond other shared roadblocks with mankind this year. And while they did push me back on my heels, I’m still standing, as it were. This being said, it’s rather easy to come up with a list of positive events, and this is where I choose to direct my attention.

  • My wife managed to find new employment that, conveniently enough allows her to work, for the time being, from home. Coincidentally the wheels started turning on her new path just weeks before the pandemic. In fact, she worked from the main offices for some time before being shuffled to her current base of operation.
  • I too, being an essential worker under the categorization of new construction, never skipped a beat. Having skills at building laboratories and medical facilities came in all too handy.
  • Our Honda we bought new several years ago was paid off just prior to the ensuing chaos, so this was a nice relief in our finances.
  • Believe it or not my 401k has gone up a lot this year. (I recommend to everyone who has one to consult with financial advisors before dolling out percentages to what might look profitable to an untrained eye.)
  • My company is angelic as far as management goes. They work hard with me to ensure my needs are met and their kindness and ethical practices are truly rare. I do my best to keep my behavior and skills worthy of such compensation. This company also pays for short-term disability which I am leaning on for the moment, albeit reluctantly; but it is a blessing.
  • I reached a milestone in my recovery in July; twenty-five years. I know it’s just a number, one day at a time of course, but it’s a nice marker nonetheless.
  • I said above my father had passed away in February, and although it affected me in ways I hadn’t expected, I was still happy to see him suffering no longer.
  • We never ran out of toilet paper.

So obviously I have some wonderful energies being sent my way, and I am constantly openly, as well as silently, thankful. Could I take the first list and totally ruin my life with it, disregarding the second list in the process? Easily. As a drunk I was a master of excuses, and those skills that expanded my misery are still programmed into my mind. Luckily stronger, more powerful, and consciously practiced skills now override those old, dusty habits. I still have moments of depression, fear, and doubt, just like most, but my track record at this point is leverage and practice is enough for me to find inspiration to look forward rather than dwell on the road behind me.

This ACTION of constant gratitude is how I feel we are best armed to help others find their way out of desperate suffering. Without judging or preaching we can, by example, be living proof to others there is a way through life’s cruel labyrinth, there is hope, and eventually, peace.

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Comments are welcome, I will answer in kind. 

With Love and compassion, Daniel Andrew Lockwood

138. 10 LIES WE BELIEVE, 10 TRUTHS WE IGNORE

 

1. Live each day as if it’s your last.
     A. Live each day as if it’s your FIRST.

2. Do what makes you happy.
     B. Do what’s right, even if it hurts.

3. It’s my life, I can do what I want.
     C. Our choices ALWAYS affect others more than they affect us.

4. Forgiveness is about saying what they did is okay now.
     D. Forgiveness is about letting go of self-inflicted pain.

5. Love always feels good, fear always feels bad.
     E. Love can cause deep sorrow; fear can fuel determination.

6. You are separate from God.
     F. You are a direct projection of your source.

7. Being right is our main objective.
     G. Being kind is our highest priority.

8. Those who die with the most toys, wins.
     H. Those who die with no regrets are the most envied.

9. We must defend our rights and freedoms.
     I. Defending the rights and freedoms of others is our primary duty.

10. The faster you go, the more you get done.
     J. The slower you go, the more you experience.

1. = Drop all judgements
2. = Put others first
3. = Let go of ego
4. = Be at peace
5. = Don’t let feelings guide actions
6. = Connection to perfection is constant
7. = Empathy is the highest quality
8. = Do the most what you regret the least
9. = Defend and protect your neighbor
10. = Quantity does not equal quality

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Comments are welcome, I will answer in kind. 

With Love and Compassion, Daniel Andrew Lockwood

136. THE GREAT EXPERIMENT

One of my basement beliefs, one a good many may disagree with, is that our behaviors are more important than our objectives. I think how we decide to act is far more productive, and in the long run, satisfying to our spirit, than creating and moving toward a vision. Both are important, even necessary, but in my experience, character is shaped much more by how we choose to get somewhere. The way in which we travel and the things we do along the route is where we find and reveal our soul. Our resolve to do it repeatedly is prompted by reaching the summit of one’s vision, and in doing so, know we can take up a similar quest again. I suppose it could be equated thus, “If life is a road trip, then how important is the course and carriage as opposed to the destination?” Many philosophers have pointed out the secret to living is about the journey, and I agree. Goals are inherently necessary or movement through life becomes stagnant, pointless; but when we look back, reminisce as it were, do not our thoughts almost linger more about how we got there than it was about finally accomplishing our mission? I think the secret to living is to make our life’s vision all about the journey by creating interesting and creative intentions that force us along new and challenging paths. The circle (or perhaps spiral) becomes symbiotic between method and objective.

Here lies the real question, “What would happen to our lives if we concentrated on our conduct rather than focusing on an outcome?” I have other posts on this blog addressing the importance of asking quality questions, and in my opinion, this is one of the best. If outcome is all that matters, then it’s almost inevitable we will forgo our ethics to reach a conclusion. I’m not willing to compromise my principles, so I choose to, in every situation, practice my beliefs. For example, I will not abandon kindness in favor of cruelty just to win the race. I once heard a man say, “If life is a journey, then the faster you go, the quicker you reach the end.” If this is true, then the higher the speed, the lower the quality of our experiences.

I threw away a good portion of my life, fifteen years at least. I have no compunctions about it, but I do intend to do what I can to regain ground, and I must say, so far, so good. I made a decision years ago to treat the rest of my existence as an experiment. When I first sobered up, appreciation and gratitude for everything rose massively. Situations many would call boring or ordinary had me looking at the miracle of the moment most ignore. It forced me to slow down, and in turn it gave me an insight to a secret, one I talk at length about in another blog post, 118. Eyes of Wonder. The secret is this, the more we look forward, anticipate as it were, the more we force our perspective of time to slow down. Think of your own childhood. Did it not feel as if your birthdays were three years apart? That Christmas was never, ever going to arrive? When we were children, we spent all our thought processes, all our energy looking forward. It didn’t matter if we anticipated a pleasant conclusion or not. As adults we tend to look back, both in the framework of reminiscence and regret. It stands to reason, the more we concentrate on the past, the more we neglect what’s in front of us, and in doing so we speed up the arrival of our future. If I’m correct about this, then the reverse is true. The more we look forward, with either dread or eagerness, the more we force our awareness of time to decelerate. This realization was the first part of my intended “experiment.”

The second part was to concentrate on my morals. If I were to move forward with a plan, I needed parameters. The willingness to set and stick to behavioral boundaries is what separates us from the common animal. We have the ability to look in the mirror and say “I’m going to be a better person than I was yesterday, kinder, more tolerant, less indulgent, better informed, more productive, less selfish, more empathetic and less judgmental, and so on.” This list reflects my personal intentions, but you get the idea. Grizzly bears do not get up in the morning and say to themselves, “Today I’m going to be a better bear.” Doesn’t happen. We own the ability to circumvent our instincts, and that’s a divine gift, one many throw in the garbage.

Once I had both parts, I had the vehicle to move forward with my life’s “experiment.” I will choose to constantly look forward to tomorrow (without ignoring the moment, this is important) and do so while attempting to become a better person than I was yesterday. If you’ll notice, my plan is absent of a specific destination, but without manufacturing them, I’d have a difficult time collecting research, so I do set goals.

I’m not immune to distractions and I often find myself wandering off the road, this year (2020) especially. I get flat tires, run out of gas (physical neglect), I pull over to indulge in crappy roadside gift shops (materialism), and get bored (lose faith) BUT… I always eventually keep going. Here’s to better roads worthy of stopping to take pictures, enjoying the ride,  and meeting new people along the way.

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Comments are welcome, I will answer in kind.

With Love and Compassion, Daniel Andrew Lockwood

128. LET’S BE WEIRD

I knew something was different about me very early on. The first time I realized this around the age of six. There I was, sitting in bed, joyously scribbling away in my Tom and Jerry coloring book and singing loudly to myself when it crossed my mind I was quite happy with no one else around. I truly remember this moment. I liked being in the company of others just fine, but I didn’t miss them when they weren’t there. I’m almost fifty-six now with no brothers or sisters, but back then there was no way of knowing if siblings were going to be in my life or not, so expectations of a bigger family remained open. Either way it didn’t matter, I craved neither solitude nor companionship, whatever the moment offered was quite comfortable. I also knew this attitude was different than most.

My teachers thought I was a bundle of nerves with a big mouth. I was; still am as an adult, but at least now I have increased self-awareness with my tendencies as well as an ability to redirect my energies, though sometimes it’s a little past my initial expressiveness. I was also rude, but never consciously so. My exasperated mother could not get me to say “excuse me” correctly when I walked in front of, or accidentally got in the way of others. Instead, I had it backwards for years and gleefully said “excuse you” instead, which really did come across as me being bratty. I never meant to be impolite, but I’m sure it seemed that way to those who were in my presence. Most of this stemmed from being selfish and overbearing, a side-effect of being an only child. There’s no doubt this type of behavior in today’s environment would insist on some sort of diagnosis that would require lots of drugs and possibly even therapy. Thank God I was born when I was.  If I were to unknowingly meet my younger self these days I’m sure I would roll my eyes and shake my head.

My personal habits in my youth were almost always directed towards fantasy or science fiction. Reality was fun, no doubt, but the possibility of imagination becoming reality held much more intrigue. I was a Star Trek, Wild Wild West, and Lost in Space kid. My library was soon filled with similar themes as I grew older and began to voraciously read. L. Frank Baum’s OZ books, A.A. Milne, The Chronicles of Narnia, and everything written by Edgar Rice Burroughs filled many hours of mental journeys. My artwork reflected my tendencies (and still does) when a brush, pen, or pencil was above a blank page. My room, my toys, were also in line as well. Everything one could think and create with, construction sets, art supplies, and, of course, books were my go-to playthings. Yes, I had cars, GI Joe, and sports stuff, but they were fall-back activities. I did play softball almost every day on the playground, so physical pastimes were abundant, but my mind was always elsewhere.

As I grew older I shifted away from my nature. What once was a powerful connection to my spirit faded a little every day as I became more and more hedonistic. This is where I deliberately began to withdraw from my fantasies. I went from being inspired by inward motives, to choosing to be influenced by outward ones. The walls effectively went up, and my wings of imagination came crashing down. Here is where I effectively became “normal.” All too soon I had a vast library of excuses for abandoning my hopes and dreams, in essence I joined the “tribe” and began goose-steeping to the tedious drone the majority of the population mindlessly embraces.

What IS normal one might ask? Well, in my observation the behaviors most people share define what’s totally acceptable, not only because they (usually) remain unchallenged, but also because they serve an agenda that justifies excuses for avoiding taking action. This is a cancerous lifestyle because most of our oblivious thought processes are great examples of misery loving company; we cyclically feed on each others bad habits. Please don’t think I’m past this, I’m not. All too often I catch myself joining in the mob mentality, my ego steps in, and I start playing the game with practiced ease.

Normal is therefore –

  • Accusing circumstance for how you act and feel.
  • Being late most of the time; or at the very least being highly rushed.
  • Trying to be different or stand apart from the outside in.
  • Worrying about reputation.
  • Complaining.
  • Thinking it’s inevitable certain “things” must happen the older we get, weight gain is, ahem… a big example.
  • Money equals happiness.
  • Wondering why everyone is so much luckier than you.
  • Hating Mondays, traffic, getting out of bed, supervisors, and your ex. Basically HATING too much.
  • A sense of lack.
  • Constantly comparing ourselves to others.
  • Wanting all the rewards in life without actually working for them.
  • Being overly offended, which, by the way, is nothing more than a covert way of  judging others.
  • Holding grudges.
  • Consistently defending oneself.
  • Pointing out flaws in everything: which is a cowardly act of misdirection designed to keep others from treating you the way you treat them.

Are ALL these observations normal? No need to ask me for reassurance, just look around for yourself and notice the type of body language most present themselves with, listen to the tone and delivery of how people typically speak as well as the attitudes that drive the agendas of average people. Do their motives fit many if not all the examples given above? Sadly, yes. Most people have fallen under the influence of thinking life can be fixed from the outside in, therefore what’s wrong is “out there”. We’re convinced we can change how we act and feel by manipulating the world around us rather than simply changing how we react. “Normal” is a comfort zone because the behavior is acceptable. The more we step out of the comfort zone, OR the more we embrace imagination, possibility, and personal power, the more we’re labeled as weird, because in doing so we don’t fit the tribe mentality.

Let’s look at a reversed list and perhaps this will enlighten as to just how rare, or of course abnormal it sounds.

Weird is therefore –

  • Owning how you act and feel.
  • Never being late, always relaxed.
  • Doing what it takes to be different from the inside out.
  • Not caring about what others think.
  • Bring grateful.
  • Knowing that you can defy the idea of how people age, and prove it through examples.
  • Happiness equals money. (LOVE this one)
  • Feeling blessed no matter how bad things get.
  • Loving Mondays, getting up the moment the alarm goes off to enjoy the day, empathizing with your boss, and wishing the best for your ex. Basically LOVING  everything.
  • A sense of abundance.
  • Comparing who and what you are, with where you were.
  • Willing to put forth any effort to achieve what you want.
  • Not letting hardly anything bother you, which will cultivate empathy.
  • Easily forgiving.
  • Embracing accountability.
  • Looking for the beauty in everything, which prompts others to do the same in kind.

To me it seems that imagination and compassion complement each other, just as ignorance and animosity are obviously close relatives. If nothing else the first list describes someone who is thoroughly boring and predictable, while the second list supports the type of person who is interesting and spontaneous. It’s ALSO important to point out the first list embraces a posture of inaction and blame, while the second one typifies a lifestyle of action and responsibility.

When I abandoned old beliefs and habits and embraced new ones, I reignited long lost passions I’d convinced myself were forever lost. This was actually a side-effect to my recovery, and I did not expect it. I never thought I’d find fortitude just because I wanted to become different, or of course… WEIRD.

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With Love and compassion, Daniel Andrew Lockwood

125. SEARCHING FOR INSPIRATION

The older I get the more I know what the highest personal achievements in life are, and surprisingly, in the end, we don’t seem to want anything material at all. We may think we do, especially in our youth, but what’s truly sought after are the feelings that come from what we’re convinced will trigger whatever state of euphoria we seek to manifest. Many (including myself) buy into false repackaged, cliched, and resold icons associated with happiness which usually revolve around power, money, and fame. When people find they cannot gain footing on this type of path, drugs inevitably become the number one go-to in pursuit of mood-altering experiences, and I can understand why; it’s easy, extremely available, and it works…sort of. I myself was a slave to the idea of alcohol induced tranquility just like millions of others. If you don’t believe this to be true, take a ten-minute drive through the nearest business district and count just how many places you pass by who sell liquor. Damn near every street corner is testimony to the immense popularity of booze. Illicit drugs are a bit more covert, but I’d wager almost no one on Earth is unaffected in their own family by their ubiquity and use. All too often this path becomes extraordinarily self-destructive; physically, yes, but more importantly, emotionally. When we force our state of mind to change from the outside in, we ignore spirit and embrace pure hedonism. We also forget how to express ourselves naturally, how to explore our passions and allow our sorrows. I know from experience when the spirit dies from lack of nourishment, so does the body.

Complete contentment, peace, ecstasy, excitement, harmony, and bliss are good examples of the type of heightened emotions everyone wishes they had instant access to. Unfortunately, we’re all too familiar with the opposites such as discouragement, conflict, depression, boredom, apathy, and misery, and believe it or not it’s here the secret of inspiration can actually be found. Stick with this article and by the end you’ll be, well… inspired. Trust me.

We are creatures of negativity for two very distinct reasons, but this isn’t necessarily a “bad” thing. We have built into our limbic system the “fight or flight” response which is on the constant lookout for the safest path. There are those who confront this instinct by intentionally risking limb and lifestyle, either for excitement or to challenge tendencies, but it’s always there in one form or another. And this skill is extremely useful, no doubt about it. Our ancient ancestors knew enough to be afraid of danger and avoid unjustifiable risks. The second reason is a little weird. We approach most tasks and challenges with a mindset that says “how can I fix this?” OR “how can I improve this?” As a result we automatically look for lack, and when we do, we force our minds to notice and all too often manufacture flaws, even if they don’t exist to begin with. One thing’s for sure, very seldom do we walk through life carefree and totally accepting of the world around us. Those souls who do are almost nonexistent. This is why we identify with negative points of view so easily, it’s a covert  and highly practiced habit to begin with.

The least desirable emotional states I listed above are actually easier to understand and diagnose than their counterparts because of the way we’re wired. They aren’t simple, no illusions here, just more relatable, more common as it were. I’ve stated this many times on this blog, I’m no doctor nor am I a professional on any subject I bring up, all I try do is share how I’ve moved past those barriers in life so many of us seem to share. Most states of negativity I’ve found a way past, although I don’t practice what I preach as much as I should. My ego occasionally gets inflated, I look for excuses, and play the victim from time to time, there’s no doubt about it, BUT I do know how to get beyond these temporary setbacks

There’s a one-word response for neutralizing negativity. Those I’ve named above, discouragement, conflict, depression, boredom, apathy, and misery have a redundant thread.

  • Discouragement = giving up on taking action
  • Conflict = absence of seeking cooperative action
  • Depression = unwilling to take action
  • Boredom = no action at all
  • Apathy = not caring about taking action
  • Misery = not taking the correct action

Obviously the key word is… action. Action designed to avoid destructive tenancies is, by default, creative in nature, and all things creative hold the seeds of inspiration. If this is true, then it stands to reason creativity breeds inspiration. You see, most believe inspiration comes before creativity. Not true. If you want to be inspired all you need to do is choose to be consistently active in your own life. The activities don’t have to be all rainbows and unicorns, and most likely they’ll be annoying rather than comforting, though this isn’t always the case. Honestly, it doesn’t matter what the nature of your activities are as long as they’re intended to be part of a bigger (positive) picture. Think of life as setting up dominos, once they’re in place all that’s needed is a push on the first one. Yes, the preparations can be tedious and time consuming, but the payoff is easy to visualize. The satisfaction of seeing them make a predetermined pattern, to act in a perfectly synchronized, harmonious manner is pure gratification. The same logic can be applied to those goals and dreams we so often abandon because the road leading to our visions seems overwhelming and hopeless. Little steps and movements all too often lead to huge accomplishments, in fact I would say this is the only way one finds themselves seeing their dreams come true.

When I look back at the things I’m grateful for, the accomplishments I’ve followed through on, they all consisted of constant, small, sometimes almost imperceptible movements. Most were drudgerous, but in the end it has always been more than worth it. The price is not that high upon appreciating the worth of the finished product. Seeing one’s goals make the finish line IS inspirational, and THAT inspiration is what is needed to start all over again on a new, perhaps even more impressive task.

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With Love and compassion, Daniel Andrew Lockwood

120. ALMOST DEAD – PART TWO

ALMOST DEAD – PART ONE is, of course, the first part in case you’ve missed it.

If you’re wondering why I’m including this topic on my blog, the answer’s simple. Most of us have experienced some sort of overwhelming, life challenging stumbling block. Many have had much worse than I’ve ever experienced, no doubt, BUT I feel it’s important to point out how we can (eventually) use these detours as inspirations rather than excuses. Some people move and reshape the world from wheelchairs, and there are those who, by their own hand, have trouble getting off the couch long enough to accomplish even the most basic of needs. It’s a mindset, one I still struggle with more often than not. Some areas of my life are well ordered, while others I label as totally chaotic. My ego, my attitude, is what holds me back from progressing in a productive, positive manner. Remembering I have indeed moved beyond my worst periods of uncertainty helps to reestablish determination and allows me to tackle areas in need of attention. This next statement is from another post of mine, and it sums up my historical dynamic.

The beauty in the fabric of my life comes from all those events which have had a pleasant outcome; but the strength of it lies in those circumstances that have challenged me to be a better person. I’m therefore MORE thankful for the pain I’ve moved past than the pleasures I’ve experienced. I do not seek suffering as a means to improve myself, but there’s a wonderful comfort in knowing it’s capable of eventually providing increased gratitude.

And it does…

5. Viral Pneumonia –

I never knew one could “catch” pneumonia; figured it was just something that happened if the conditions were conspiring against you. Apparently I was wrong. Now, for some, viral pneumonia can be rather mild, not in this case however. I’d originally contracted symptoms almost a month before on a cruise and came to the conclusion I had a bad cold, really bad. I was hacking like crazy and it hurt like I needed to push razor blades out of my lungs. Looking back I’m shocked the airline that flew us back early didn’t reject our request before we even got on board. I spent a few hours facing away from everyone and trying as hard as possible to not cough into my hat. After returning home I still had a few days off before resuming  my job. During this time I saw my doctor and they concluded, inaccurately, it was just a cold. I even had a chest x-ray because of the added pain I was experiencing. They told me I’d pulled a muscle and to take it easy. I went back to my normal grind thinking life would get better and better, but my energy level was just gone. The more I worked, the more I depleted my resources because, unknown to me, my body was using every ounce it had to fight the infection in my lungs. Finally, one day, when I was working on a two inch copper drain line in the ceiling of an office building, I realized I’d had enough. I was coughing up blood and it felt as if someone had taken a home-run swing at my rib-cage with a telephone pole. My breath started getting shorter and shorter and by the time I made it home I could barely breathe. I don’t scare easily, the other incidents where I had one foot on a banana peel and the other in the grave were nothing compared to this. I really thought I was going to die. If I’d been alone it wouldn’t have done me any good to call 911 as I could barely get out a whisper of a single syllable at a time. I had to write down what was wrong. My wife got me in the car and we sped off to the hospital where a real diagnosis was finally made of my condition. I spent two or three days (I don’t really recall) under close observation and was sent home with a bunch of antibiotics. I went back to work soon thereafter but It was another month before I felt normal. Since then I’ve had two more bouts of pneumonia but neither of those were as bad as that first time. It’s totally disabling, and I wouldn’t wish it on Satan himself.

6. MRSA –

MRSA stands for “Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus” which obviously is (ewww…) a mouthful. I for one am glad it’s most commonly referred to by its acronym. It’s basically a strain of staph bacteria that’s become highly resistant to antibiotics. CA-MRSA (which specifies my exposure was outside a medical facility) is the strain I was lucky enough to make friends with. It started with a sore knee. There was no cut or break on my skin of any kind, which was weird. I didn’t think much of it at first, just figured I’d banged it on something a little too hard, but the swelling kept increasing with more and more pain accompanying it. Finally, after several days I reluctantly went to my physician. My wife went with me and was in the room for the initial exam. The doctor literally jumped back a little when he saw my leg and proceeded to very, very carefully touch it. The moment he did he said  “This is extremely hot, you need to go to the hospital, now!” He must have called ahead because they seemed to be expecting us and I was only in the emergency room for a few minutes. I spent at least three days bedridden, and to be honest, I really don’t remember much of the incident, but I DO remember a few things. I was on a constant flow of liquid antibiotics, I was also on morphine for the pain, and I recall a visit from the surgeon in charge of my case. He was standing at the foot of my bed looking at my knee which was swollen to the size of a football and said “We can’t risk draining it, it could spread like wildfire. We are going to monitor this extremely closely and if the infection moves into the joint itself (apparently it wasn’t yet, and I have no idea how they knew) your leg is coming off with in the hour.” I was in no position to argue, that’s for sure. Soon thereafter my condition improved and I went home. I did need follow up visits of course but all ended up fine, until…

A year and a half later it happened again, to my other knee. Same thing, no break in the skin or visible cut. Luckily my hospital stay this time was shorter and the case was somewhat less severe. I have both legs these days but my knees still hurt occasionally, although that’s probably more my age and job than anything… I hope.

7. Back Surgery with Complications –

On January 16, 2015 I had back surgery. Less than twenty-four hours before I wrote a post on this blog – 76. So close to giving up recalling the weeks leading up to where I found myself. The days to follow were a totally different story. I was eagerly looking forward to some sort of relief from my sleepless nights and 24/7 suffering, little did I know the worst was NOT behind me (yes, pun intended.) The operation went fine although it took almost twice as long as was originally intended, four and a half hours as opposed to an estimation of two and a half. I was told there was more “complications” than anticipated once they had a better look at my condition. No matter, it was done and I figured I could go home and at least sleep. This fantasy was short lived. Now, my memory of a five month period from the start of my injury to when I returned to work is almost a blank slate. I can recall certain incidents, but the timeline is a complete wash. My guess is my mind went into some sort of “wipe” mode, something I never thought could happen. These days I have to rely on my wife’s recollection of events to fill in almost every detail. I’d originally thought my second setback during this time happened right after regaining consciousness from my anesthesia, apparently not. I’d been home for only about twenty-four hours and was resting on our bed when I realized I had almost no energy, I wasn’t actually paralyzed, but I then again I couldn’t move in the slightest. My wife wasn’t home and the phone wasn’t anywhere near me, so I laid there, fading away. At some point, perhaps an hour after the episode began, she came home and I managed to explain my condition. Took me over half an hour to make it to the car, by far the hardest physical struggle of my life. Once I finally made it back to the emergency room I was diagnosed with  pulmonary embolisms (blood clots in my lungs) accompanied by pneumonia. The doctors told my wife if she hadn’t come home when she did I would have died. I recall the head physician telling me I went down to about 3%. He said it was extremely close but I was going to make it. I was another week on the hospital, nine days total. It’s amazing just how much mobility and even muscle strength can be lost by staying in bed for a week, and my heart breaks for those who go through such ordeals, often for much, much longer periods than me. The next few months saw a HUGE weight gain along with periods of boredom and depression. I went back to work in May of that year and while it was excruciating, it was also invigorating. Took a long time to feel normal again, but I did and here I am over four years later, ticking away just fine.

I’m convinced my recovery from alcoholism has given me added diligence to help me to step past everything that’s happened since I sobered up. It would be nice if my life ahead would be guaranteed clear sailing; BUT you know what’s even nicer? It’s knowing I can confront my almost inevitable upcoming setbacks with an attitude valor because I have LOTS of practice.

Please follow my blog. Comment and share as you wish.

With Love and compassion, Daniel Andrew Lockwood