Monday, August 31, 2009

What did the right ear say to the left ear?

If you sat five hundred big, small, smart, not so keen, funny and quite serious people side by side with their hands and feet straight out, that still wouldn’t be enough fingers and toes to count the number of times I’ve heard, “You made it to the hospital’s emergency room on time because of a tremendously large and trusting connection of communication you have with your body.”

Stop! Do you really think the inner core of the bodies shell physically talks with the constantly shedding layers of skin created to move in any direction? Can the human mind truly create a path that leads his or her journey through a forest of bewilderment that in the end unveils the decoding of a secret language only your body is capable of speaking?

Someone grab the fishing hooks…I’m about to open a major league can of worms. Please get Rick Flair and Hulk Hogan on the line because our link to think openly is going to bring brash optimistic pessimism to the playing field of everyday performance.

In the past five weeks I’ve been challenged to dig into the realms of the might have beens versus the should’ve beens, taking on the not going to happen agains. From “B” thumpers to spiritualists, martial artists to common voices with a common background observing from safe distant horizons, the vision quest has been, “What exactly happened and why?”

Master Todd Harris from Martial Arts University introduces his students to meditation and its incredible power at an extremely early part of our studies. You can’t pull power or Chi energy from the chapters within to shatter the mountains that keep us from being stronger without a firm conversation with the body that brought us there. Through his measures of sharing you learn to pull toward you Chi to benefit not only yourself but others involved in the circles you keep. If something wasn’t right…another martial arts student should have been able to feel my Chi energy had become broken. Did it occur? Yes…instructors Tucker and Sigal were adamant in pushing me away from class that evening without ever asking if something wrong.

Dr. Martin Rush puts a medical spin on the body’s communication skills.

We all have aches and pains, coughs and sniffles, happiness and sadness. It’s safe to say most of us feel negative vibrations more than anything. One reason why is because it’s the link you share with that inner energy source which has locked onto a method of repressing emotions. When you elect to stuff all you feel into a noggin balancing act on your shoulders, the communication sent evolves into a physical act and or signal—interestingly enough, too many of us hold in it, learning newer ways each day to ignore it.

How does one learn to decode their body’s constant gibby gab?

Put focus on the stresses that took your day into the pits—from the pressure and presense created when the illness was born. Being upset completely takes out your body’s decision to work properly. How long would your car last if you took a hammer and bashed the radiator with a giant hammer every morning before you started it?

According to Dr. Rush, documenting your personal behaviors and how you act and react around the house to your job helps you identify areas that bring you to your knees. Sure, you could spend hundreds of dollars on psychotherapists aiming to cool off your past or you could become a little nicer to the self you are and take a pen and write about it first. Give that dark side a voice. This way when you do visit the therapist, you’ve got a path already started.

Cold hands and feet with numbness in between signal your nervous system has come under attack. Your arteries are contracting which reduces blood from hitting the areas requiring its services. Dr. Rush rushes in with a reason and or purpose—people who are reluctant to reach out for their personal desires are completely destroying their body’s willingness to seek out what it needs. Your body is convinced that you are giving everything away…so it decides to do the same.

People with sore throats…total tension warfare. The doctor constantly tells his patience how to rid the ailment of soreness by giving your body what its craving: reassurance, comfort and love. Sadly, there are mega amounts of us who associate these needs to food. Oh oh, when we’re a pint low on love, it becomes our natural path to slam yummy’s through that open door. Try locating some personal love by reading a book or drawing pictures...locate something your inner self loves.

When you’re feeling hurt, tell your body, “Yo dude…um I’m not feeling the love today.” By talking to yourself first, it helps to build your confidence in the way of looking at a boss or coworker and asking them to stop trying to rebuild the pyramids with only your energy source.

Lower back pain….mental stress is nothing more than the weight of the world. When your heart, mind and day are overburdened with too much blah blah blah, you’re going to get hit in the lower back. You can try to exercise it out as much as you want…stretch, stretch stretch…it’s not going to help heal what’s taking the air out of your lungs. Meditation is a brilliant way to open the breathing patterns required to keep your lungs open for all hits. Fifteen minutes of you time will quickly change the way you shrug your shoulders.

How you look, feel, talk, share and build upon…it affects the trail to which you keep minute by minute, week by week and eventually long and deep into the unwritten books we keep. How we’re physically capable of keeping friends for more than two years is beyond my mental effort. No wonder the divorce rate ranks in there at 51%. It’s become our nearby destination to unload on those we love the most and eventually they too run dry through their levels of sickness which you might be creating.

Dr. Rush has no problem saying you don’t need to break bread with a therapist and or minister but be gentle with friends and family. Wearing out the welcome mat could land you face first in a puddle of mud with no frogs or lizards to communicate with. It starts with you talking to you. If you ain’t got you…then you aint go nobody. Those who are codependent are so because they’re not happy with the self they are.

Communicate with your body. You’re going to discover someone in there that knows everything about you and is far from being a control freak. Trust me, outside of your mother…you’ll never meet another person than you who knows every secret to every dream which could be the missing needle in a haystack you’ve heard about but never located because that person inside left your side the moment you discovered how addicting another human can be…until you need them.

Oh…the “B” thumpers believed my being in the right place at the right time that very interesting night in July 2009 means God has a bigger plan for me. Guess where that journey begins…inside me. I’d invite you over for a cup of coffee but the furniture my inner self has is totally Brady Bunch 1970’s.

Friday, August 28, 2009

Stop getting drunk on failure!

I love purchasing books filled with single quotes followed by a blank page; it gives your imagination permission to dance. Like a great peace of music presented in part by Lennon and McCartney, Jagger and Richards—the heart dips while the soul swings.

A friend e-mailed this quote: The world is run by those who show up.

You can spend all day staring at each letter formation and come up with a thousand stories linked to its rhyme and reason. From something as simple as the early bird gets the worm to being in the right place at the right time.

Take six steps back from your place in business and pay close attention to the minor details—who and what is getting to the core of the energy source before you? Bill Gates didn’t steal computer building from Apple, visualized was an open door that enabled the student to participate with an idea he didn’t set aside. And now Google thinks they’ve been blessed by the magic of digital genius to surpass what Microsoft has been planting in our fields for nearly three decades.

Life is something you beg, borrow and steal. Wallowing in heavy amounts of success isn’t a guarantee, its fantasy. The most recent $250 million dollar Power Ball winner from South Carolina didn’t start his day racing to the nearest seller to pump bucks into a trunk. He spent four dollars and got $249,999,996 back.

The world is run by those who show up.

Is what we do nothing more than a single avenue of fate? Hardly—Native American’s believe fate is the act of living when you decide to stop walking and whatever lands in front of you becomes your fate. By eliminating your connection to fate, the process of being becomes something you’re capable of controlling.

That doesn’t mean if you run out and purchase Guitar Hero you’re going to become the next Eddie Van Halen. Nor will purchasing a great pair of Bose ear phones and learning how to talk like a radio disc jockey garner you a safe place of performance.

Suddenly hearing someone type into the face of a computer that the world is run by those who show up takes a twist at the light and goes three blocks down a shady street. You’ve spent ten to thirty years fine tuning a craft with nothing more to hold than the scent of a pink slip inching its way toward your horizon.

I produced commercials with a preacher man the other day—he’s been sharing the word for over twenty years—a calm tone in his voice, neatly dressed and quite responsive to taking direction and yet I wondered if he knew who is audience was. Had he ever met the vocal tones of a one time lost sheep that had made its way back to a gentler field of grass and fresh water to dine on day and night?

No matter how many Sunday’s appear on a calendar the act of showing up is part of the commitment required when putting people first.

Benjamin Franklyn and Thomas Edison are this nation’s most creative inventors. Michael Jackson, Madonna and Elvis Presley are by far the genius’s of their sport. Simon Cowell was nobody until the world tapped into American Idol. From its triumph Ryan Seacrest was recently inked to a $48 million dollar long term contract. Paula Abdul played the same game and didn’t get what she demanded—which makes a common man with a common background wonder about such quotes: The world is run by those who show up.

A radio disc jockey talked about yesterday’s increase in the Stock Market as being a positive to hold. It’s the eighth day in a row that investors showed up to play a good game of risk and demand. Although we’re miles off the mark of where our highest peak once looked out over valleys of depression, the educated point the jock made was nothing more than the spirit of something optimistic to call your own during these continuing doubtful times of confidence biting the big one.

American’s put ample amounts of energy, money and faith in capitalizing a reason for moving forward without stopping to ask if there’s a reason why you show up daily. Seriously, your boss and spouse aren’t looking…when was the last time you showed up for your self? How can you expect to manage the world you keep if being there means nothing?

“Honey I’m home!” You shout while patting the dog twice on the head, smile a somewhat cool smile while the kids walk by, fade into the mail you’d rather toss away, click on the HDTV and lose total contact with reality only to be shaken from it at dinner time which you’ll totally forget ten minutes after it was devoured. Chinese food is quite filling; it’s you who feels hungry when you get home because there’s nothing more important than complaining.

In Quinton Tarantino’s new movie The Inglorious Basterds the detective speaks of rats as being something we as a human race fear—they are dirty, nasty and carry disease and yet a squirrel is accepted. They’re both rodents.

The quote: The world is run by those who show up is no different. You either see or feel inspiration and possibility or reason to quickly turn and make a face, spending the rest of your day or evening worried about something you could control but decided months ago that locating a new career was a challenge you didn’t seek because it was too late in the game.

Mother America has tripped and having a tough time getting back up—while the security company pumps their professionalism into the communication device wrapped around her neck, “Who do you want me to call Mrs. America?” Reports show millions are without effort to walk around the situation and pick themselves back up. This is not the fault of our people…it’s the process those before us created and gave away…and now there’s no money. We victims of the infamous hand me down.

Baseball great Barry Bonds showed up for the game everyday…the books now say he’s the worlds best homerun king, but there’s nothing planted on those pages that accuse him of cheating.

What will you’re history sing? Those controling the world show up everyday.

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Mastering the art of control....

Publicly speaking in front of large or small groups is a passion—I haven’t a clue where it’s roots originate because nobody in my family exceeds the limits of sharing anything more than, “Yo, hey or wanna start a fight?”

The desire must have been deeply planted well before the June 28th arrival, leaving these hands, feet, eyes and nose physically ready to one day tackle what millions if not billions run from daily…standing up and talking to three or more sets of ears linked to A.D.D. and all other mental medical sicknesses created by way of selling more drugs.

A coworker in the movie biz was recently challenged to shed her shy side and take on over two hundred and fifty anxious Avatar fans—her email read, “Who do you become or think of while standing alone on that extremely large echoing stage?”

Without hesitation, not even a potty break to put thought into what was about to be delivered I typed into the face of the computer, “Him.”

That’s it…nothing more…double click and poof the letters H.I.M. were sitting right in front of her.

Who and what is a “Him?”

Good question! When its time to light up a stage, it’s “Him” who gets me to where I’m going. I’ve preached to massive amounts of future Broadcast professionals, high school adults, teens tossed out by society, hospitals and health care nonprofit organizations about the importance of separating church from state. By giving that side of your life a voice and stage—the journey becomes full circle when realty sets in…whoa this thing called life really isn’t about me.

People who run from the idea of standing in front of others have something in common with two of our greatest singer/songwriters of our time Carly Simon and Bruce Springsteen—fear of the unknown. Stage fright is real. It’ll swipe the air from your lungs faster than a heart attack. You can shove oxygen tubes into your body all day and it’ll never help heal the fears you’ve allowed to conquer the decision of moving forward.

What on earth could you fear?

Uncaring coworkers, friends and family and or comrades on a mission to make a difference whose only choice at a seminar or gathering is to talk amongst themselves while you’re trying to present a message worth holding onto.

Become “Him” or “Her” and when that occurs, fill your tummy full of air and very confidently just shut up. Silence is more than golden…it hurts. Being in radio for thirty years I’ve learned from the extremely best the art of inflection. Not volume but the proper use of putting power behind words that cut through the soul of a nearby rude bystander.

Having fear of the unknown can be eliminated from your stunted growth by learning how to gain control. In martial arts we call it Verbal Tae Kwon Do. With two fingers and a powerful vocal tone I can have you face down flat on the floor begging for your mother. It has nothing to do with my body’s strength but rather the invisible decision to use my vocals to gain access to your weakest point.

Fear of being interrupted by latecomers.

I live by one rule: If I’m two hours early, I’m two hours thirty minutes late. Nothing destroys my path quicker than a reckless fool whose time keeping mannerisms are accepted by the masses, “Oh it’s just Willie Wonka and his Umpa Lumpa’s…they do it all the time.”

Not on your dime.

At all costs do not ever wait for a latecomer—if you do, you are the bigger fool. It makes you look weak and out of control. Professionally close the door and start moving forward. Locking the door is a serious crowd pleaser.

In broadcasting schools I look directly into the student’s eyes and gently say, “I’m glad this isn’t real radio—if I was the overnight man/midnight til 6am and you arrived five to twenty minutes late, you’d never land a performance in anything bigger than Butte, Montana.” I fired an intern recently who felt practicing a morning show started when they arrived not the physical time of the show they’d like to one day do.

Everyday is a brand new stage—performing on it during a national financial crisis means lifting the weight off your back and grasping onto the “Him” or “Her” inside and making them visible for the rest of the world to see.

Give that side of you a voice! Walk into Barnes and Noble and purchase a journal—during your “everyday” take ten minutes to pen out what that inner voice is saying. By giving “Him” or “Her” a private place to perform, it elevates your confidence.

Once Carly Simon and Bruce Springsteen get into the vibe of their first song—all is cool. Getting them to that stage is the journey. Top notch national comedians tell me the act before the act is the most sacred place to walk. It only takes a few seconds to evolve into “Him” or “Her.” Once there, there’s no feeling like it.

Authors who can help give you that inner self a voice include John C Maxwell, Anthony Robbins, Pat Croce, Julia Cameron, Anne Marie Sabath, Dr. Gary Ranker and Dr. Mick Ukleja. Don’t feel like reading a book? is an incredible escape into a brand new world of you becoming a bigger, better and stronger.

Steal their art…

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Stop putting your goals in the hands of other people who'll never give you credit for it!

Goals…just saying that word makes me feel like I’m back in ninth grade headed straight for the principal’s office. It wasn’t my goal to be stuffed into a front office desk and told to look nowhere but in a book…as a fully energized student with more imagination power than Aqua Man I had an extremely difficult time focusing on a single object.

Most people can’t seem to latch onto something so simple—it requires energy and motivation and when your mind body and soul are blessed with limited supply, no matter how driven you are…the presentation of goal making sounds like a stupid stunt at the circus.

What gives here? How did I ever become a second degree black belt in martial arts? No matter how much money you dump into the Master’s front pocket no belt is automatically wrapped around your waist. It required a goal.

Ouch! There’s that word again!

Todd Harris teaches goal making in the way of exposing not today or tomorrow’s short lived plan but rather long term and distance. As vivid and totally insane as my imagination is and will forever be, focus, energy and motivation are easily located when the horizon becomes my arrival. As a second degree, we are taught to live the life and style of a Master. A lower belt, green, blue and red aren’t supposed to see a black belt ceremony as the final presentation of their personal journey but rather learn to recognize the footwork that’ll lead their studies into a community they can help change.

Leo Babauta who authored The Power of Less invites us to limit ourselves to fewer goals. It opens the door for more things to be achieved.

If winning is a choice, so is choosing a goal. Create a list of ten things you’d be extremely happy to accomplish in the next few years. It’s only natural to think you can take them all on but don’t become a do it all Arroe and learn the method of pick me up again and again. Process your goals one at a time.

If you have desire you’ll have accomplishment. The problem with today’s way of living is based on our impatience. I want it now. I don’t want to wait for it. I deserve this opportunity. Yeah right, if your Grandpa was here right now he’d whap you upside the skull and tell you to get a grip on reality you spoiled snot.

Lou says, “Break it down to sub-goals.”

Locate your goal then put it into smaller circles that can be reached month by month. A jump turning hook kick cannot be perfected unless you’ve nearly mastered the side kick…which you learn as a white belt. Breaking your goals down helps you understand the required steps to achieve them.

I would die a happy man if I could land the Wal-Mart greeter job. I love welcoming people into all walks of life and I see that position as being the most spectacular place to one day end up. But to hold that position I must be fully ready and able to say hello to everyone, including the mean nasty grumpy people who have nothing better to do than hum bug their weekend away. So where do I practice? Movie theaters! I love watching people get excited when they talk about the movie they’re about to see. Learning to listen to them first prepares me for that future gig at Sam’s place.

Weekly goals are essential in the process of staying true to that long term success story. A sub-goal invites you to reach out and touch it, shape it then deliver it. More importantly, given to your efforts is something called ample space…which is all you need to further your knowledge through research at the library or World Wide Web.

Those evil medical officials barked in my face, “You can’t go back to Tae Kwon Do!” Has it stopped me from reaching my long term dream of being named a Master by 50? To get back to the school has forced me to pick up my white belt and wear it again and again. As hard as I try to push my limits beyond sixty full minutes of hard play…the new body given to me can barely make it to through three forms. Can you imagine how ugly I’d feel in front of other students when the old man from the radio can’t pull off the twelve forms he’s spent nearly ten years perfecting?

My sub-goal isn’t to make it to the 12th performance…as stupid as it seems, its my mission to make sure I don’t forget how to do them, even if its one at a time. Each form can range from twenty eight to over 100 moves. I’d rather be the student who can still pull off a white belt Ill Jang than someone who bounces and pounces around like Tigger on Winnie the Pooh.

Daily action is painfully important. Achieving that goal cannot happen unless your steps are pushed closer to that mountain. You’re either going over it, below it, through it, around it or walking away…there’s no other choice. Take it on and make winning the choice.

If you find passion in writing and feel one day you deserve to have a book placed on a Barnes and Noble shelf…go for it…one page at a time. Don’t stop to edit…just get it out of your system. Once free for the world to see, embrace it as a reader, go back and feel your way through each word delivered which will lead you to a professional editor such as Then take it another step and find a Book’s on a Demand printer and master your own marketing plan without having to wait for boo hoo big wig New York City companies. It’s the new millennium baby! You don’t need Corporate America to win in the game of life.

You just need a goal.

Steal my art…

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Johnny Appleseed wore a thong...

When the family tree shakes, rattles and rolls before cracking then crumbling to the cold earth below is there a path that explains who, what, why, when and where? Having just a "vague" idea has the power to set your life and style up for needless health problems.

I’m not one of the lucky ones, neither are the pair of sisters I recently discovered after a near forty year search—we’re both connected to a father and family who unexpectedly passed without the certificate calling it natural causes. A medical family tree to me is nothing more than a reason to grow ulcers in the pits of the tummy.

When medical officials sharply questioned the presentation of my most recent body break down the only answer given back was, “I don’t know.”

Jamie who lives half a nation away is no different—those educated in extremely expensive colleges can’t find a link to why her mind, body and soul are screaming MS and having no family tree available to compare notes with makes the journey horribly painful.

With me, there was an attack. We just don’t know why. With Jamie the attack is everyday, every second, every moment and it’s become an endless guessing game creating mountains of fear that are getting more difficult to climb.

We’re not alone—no day passes that families aren’t shattered, its members never seen again. The trails we make easily break leaving barely a whisper to grasp onto when something suddenly starts playing out of tune. With adoption at an all time high, books and records are tossed out to hide the paths of a past we’re no longer part of, the end result of something so beautiful is for some a life of mystery.

My sister in law Gerry is a product of true love but with both adopted parents gone, the presentation of middle aged life has evolved into chapters of horrific changes that no one expected unless there was a family tree. My stepfather Joe didn’t get my history when the name signed on the dotted line made him my father for keeps. He had no clue that my knees would wreak havoc on his bank account at sixteen and seventeen. His personal dreams were severed countless times because one of the five he adopted was constantly having unexpected situations.

All chronic diseases including asthma, arthritis, MS, heart disease and cancer are hereditary components. The only thing I can tell you about my Grandparents is two of the four lived an incredibly full life deep into their eighties and nineties. One the others suffered from Alzheimer’s which I had no clue at seventeen what it was and how it would affect true love. Yet, since those written pages I’ve prepared my entire life for the day when the memory tries to escape…this is why I write before the sun arrives so that one day I can hear the story of a crazy radio fool who thought he could play silly kids game with the idea of winning.

According to The Worlds Greatest Treasury of Health Secrets, the key to gaining invaluable knowledge is making a brief history of ailments that run in the biological family. It’s that single most important part of your life that comes with a seriously cool payoff.

Even if the pages you keep fall within the same magazine as those of us adopted into reality…it’s never too late to take a pen and write down the now visible dots so that people you may never meet have something to link it to in the future. Remember...the adoption was your life, in the future, the children of tomorrow have your current history. Don't hide your struggles from the colors of their unforgettable eyes.

If you’ve ever spent time generating the energy of a genetic family tree on the World Wide Web, don’t just discover your ancient family history who might have been a king in Scotland. Put more effort in the search and see why the members of your past passed.

If you can’t get relatives to talk on the phone, Facebook or e-mail, by God it’s time for a family reunion. A secret covert operation pulls out your playful side allowing there to be peace as the end of this pot of gold.

What about my sister in law who has no idea if her brother or Aunt is her next door neighbor—the existence of a family tree is null and void? It’s time to whip out the Batman gear and call the National Genealogical Society in Arlington, Virginia.

The reason why adopted children stop searching is fear of knowing.

My Grandpa Bakken suffered a fatal heart attack in 1969…Grandma always said it was because he was addicted to his job and didn’t know when to stop. Was that the truth or did he have heart disease and Grandma changed the story to keep life positive? If he had clogged arteries what caused it? Holy cow we’re from Montana, we eat like pigs out West or were his conditions challenged by something different by way of family?

Please don’t let the pieces of a shattered romance put curves in the lifeline firmly imprinted on the palm of your hand. Knowing is power. If not for you then for your children’s children—I’ve spent my entire life wondering why my brother was born mentally challenged…I have nothing on my birth fathers side available to share with me the history. Jamie the newly discovered sister has nothing in the way of explaining why she lives in constant pain with medical officials playing their constant guessing game. We have no tree.

Where along the lines of this football game called life were the genes planted? I don’t what to attack it; I only wish to better understand it…to better prepare for a world that could easily take a left turn at the tracks, go ten miles then suddenly stop.

Memories grow bigger, better and brighter when there's a family tree. Get control of your life and future and create it.

Monday, August 24, 2009

Being the best is only accepted in sports...

Pet peeves…nobody can be…unless carefully constructed by the jagged edges of a pet peeve. No matter how hard you try to clone your greatness, the shell might look the same but each experience endured during the journey turns the sudden dot on the map into a totally different shape.

pet peeve

a particular and often continual annoyance; personal bugbear: This train service is one of my pet peeves.


1915–20, Americanism

My worst pet peeve is a fast food restaurant that makes you pull forward to wait for a grilled chicken sandwich. I called the 800 number on the take out window—the company blatantly said, “It should never happen with us, that’s what makes us different from the clown.”

It’s happened not once but three times, the manager at a different location calmly came to the window this past Saturday and boldly said, “I’m not perfect.”

I don’t blame him…the disappointment is with me for accepting poor customer service. There’s no reason to get angry! Peacefully I politely smiled and asked for my money back.

In the book How to Sell the Invisible, Harry Beckwith writes about how easily we’re swayed as a nation to settle for second and twenty-fifth best. Yet, if our favorite sports team doesn’t pull off a victory somebody calls the cops to help quell the violence. If you purchase a shirt with a hole near the bottom that’s ok because it’s extremely easy to just tuck it in. I can’t tell you how many bad tools I own because I’m too lazy to take the junk back.

Some would say a continuation of bad customer service is the fault of the extremely higher ups at the massively large chain.

Why did we have to go there?

Pet peeve number two…even if upper management is the true bad apple in the bunch, it’s the individuals who constantly place blame on bad leadership without doing anything to help correct their level of performance that spoils the process of performance.

In 2007, Harris Poll research junkies asked American consumers whom do they trust the most. Topping the list were small business managers, followed by the military, medical institutions, the U.S. Supreme Court, public schools, the White House, television news then Wall Street.

James Parker is the front man of Southwest Airlines and whole heartedly believes in the idea that personal interaction with customers is mandatory. He has no problem picking up the trash a customer has dropped on his presentation to the world. His winning attitude is shared with everyone on the team from the luggage handlers to the ticket counter and interestingly enough it earned Southwest a weekly television show that gained them ample amounts of free advertising.

Not every company is or can be like Southwest. Parker openly shares his greatest policy, “Stop dictating a bunch of rules, policies and regulations to your employees. Encourage each person to use their own energy and intelligence to make decisions that help them achieve their mission. Mistakes will be made but accept them.”

Pet peeve number three…earmarking someone whose been tossed to the dogs. Craigs List has been jabbed in the gut with more bad luck then 100 separate businesses combined and they’re still pushing forward as one of the worlds most successful person to person sharing websites.

CEO James Buckner puts faith in his primary goal of making every event a positive difference without trying to maximize their financial performance.”

What you never hear about Craigs List is how brilliant they treat their employees—it’s company policy to create happiness which generates the flow of great things to happen. In James Buckner’s world it’s ok to be quirky, goofy and fun while enjoying flexible hours.

The CEO of Costco James Sinegal answers his personal phone. When a customer decides to stop in and visit with upper management, he makes the walk down the four flights of steps and spends time with the situation.

So what is the true story behind the fast food restaurant that can’t seem to get a grilled chicken sandwich out to their always on the go customer without forcing them to pull forward and waste time waiting? After all, wasn’t it computers and fast food that sped up this nation? While one continues to crash the other can’t seem to keep up. We allow this to happen because the rest of the world has convinced us that being fourth on the list is ok as long as the French fries are steaming.

Did I tell you about the grocery store chain that doesn’t have a bike rack to lock my bike to? How are we supposed to live a green life and style if Big Business isn’t playing along? What happens when the car industry finally punts the ball in the right direction and electric cars become our new way of driving…how long will it take the grocery store chain to give us electricity to make it back home? I guess it doesn’t matter, Spaghetti O’s were buy two can’s get one free.

Friday, August 21, 2009

But doctor my body wants to kick my ass...

As common as the cold so is worrying about constantly getting sick—we worry and worry and worry some more, we worry until the house is blanketed with Lysol jugs rather than cans and the garage is jammed with cases filled with Clorox Handy Wipes…and that’s still not enough protection!

One in ten people suffer from hypochondria. Three out of the four who have the disease turn it into an emotional disorder. Sadly and quite freaky to those who bend the bows of reality to suit the flavor of sickness available to bite into your everyday most doctors and psychologists don’t take hypochondria seriously.

The end result: Those who suffer from the disease do so in silence.

Anyone close to me would think I’m a hypochondriac. Not so! I admit to being in tune with a body that speaks out but I don’t chase down cold remedies unless infected and even then I set the sickness aside for ten days to see if it truly materializes. The family doctor screams at me claiming he could’ve relieved the symptoms of sickness which would allow the body to rest. Did I mention I had bronchitis nine times one winter followed by a slap in the face case of pneumonia?

The most stupid stunt was my most recent sickness where I convinced myself to meditate through the pain. I allowed my self to believe a wall stood in front of me and a second degree black belt in martial arts would walk through that wall. That lasted four days before finally convincing my non-hypochondriac self to seek help.

So what causes hypochondria?

According to the latest edition of The Worlds Greatest Treasury of Health Secrets, a hypochondrium takes place when the human mind interprets symptoms in an unbalanced way. The feelings are very real but the mind exceeds the limits of normal acceptance.

A normal bout of hypochondria begins in your twenties and early thirties then develops into a stronger illness through life’s constantly changing ways and means. Although its more common in women, men are quickly turning their avenues of peace into giant oceans of fear.

Single people are infected the most. Psychologists believe it’s because of the enormous amount of hours they spend in patterns of alone time and solitude encourages an obsession of ones self. I can totally relate with this in the way of how my body was brutally attacked at twenty five when it became a desire to read more books about human emotion and I locked onto a scary release that accused rock music of being the reason why teen suicide was skyrocketing in America.

Being the investigative type I studied the books, the stories and listened to the music that parents were pointing their fingers at. As a broadcaster I needed to know more about the tunes that were being shoved through those speakers. What I ended up doing was clearing just enough forest to plant a serious state of depression that took medical help to free my life and style from...twenty four years later I openly admit I still own the sickness.

Should hypochondriacs seek help? The scientists and physicians who pieced together The Worlds Greatest Treasury of Health Secrets absolutely without a doubt believe it’s mandatory if you answer yes to these four questions:

When you worry about a sickness do you fear you have it?
Do you often ask family and friends to reassure you that you’re not ill?
Are you obsessed with one particular disease?
Do you find yourself doctor shopping going from one doctor to another searching for the diagnosis that best represents how you feel?

There are people who will listen:

The Obsessive Compulsive Foundation


The NY State Psychiatric Institute


We all suffer from fear, for some it changes everyday if not every hour. At times we can barely go an entire weekend without worrying about how life is affecting our children, dogs, birds, driving and or eating a plate of unhealthy food.

Learn to document your emotions, write down how you feel while creating what I’ve always called a safe zone.

By allowing your mind body and soul to speak freely in places where it’s ok to express, it helps you design a portfolio of words that medical officials can use to help bring peace to your wondering imagination. Without those thoughts, your next doctors visit will pretty much consist of a typical shrug of the shoulders with the same boring response, “I don’t know.”

In the days before my near take down my daily writing pen pointed exactly where the pain was and how it affected the rest of the body. Those notes have aided everybody involved with where to continue rebuilding the body I once owned…now it owns me. It didn’t go ignored in the journals I keep. It was ego that kept me from the doctor—the typical, “I’ll be ok.”

This is the one time I don’t want you to steal my art. I want you here tomorrow and learning to listen to your body and allowing it to have a voice is every reason why you’ll be here next week.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Invisible touches...

In the Wizard of Oz the truest shape of reality isn’t based on following a yellow brick road but rather unmasking the identity of the unseen roots required to keep you growing. Each character presented be it good, bad or somewhere in between wasn’t the fault of Dorothy but rather the strength behind our choices when it comes to how we present ourselves to other people.

From the outside my mentor in life Dr. Ronald Mack from Wake Forest University was an extremely powerful Superman of a medical expert whose journey created trembles in the soles of your shoes for fear of never living up to his expectations. When invited to bring conversation to his circle of life if you couldn’t back up your research he’d land blast you, “Get out! Come back when you know what you’re talking about!”

From thirty feet out, his presentation might have been seen as a wickedly sick in the mind book loving mad wizard who sought only the best in dialogue…when in reality; the doctor had a way of making you a better storyteller with a strong background in debate.

We’re constantly reminded to never judge a book by its cover…two quick clicks onto Facebook and we’re delivered everything but the real person. Schools, businesses and religious organizations hunt down the creative’s who’ve chosen to overexert their personalities on an open forum of conversation. American Idol’s Adam Lambert ripped every photo of himself off the sheets of invisible paper because he knew if the rest of the world found out…he’d barely make it past the avenues of acceptance.

The workplace is no different. Hard work, dedication and loyalty descriptions are usually given to the employees who find comfort in busting tail until the break of dawn. The assumption is vacation seekers reek of reasons to dismiss lying them next to the pollywogs who constantly complain of pain or willow wallow through their day like Eeyore softly churning into play, “I’ll be ok.”

I’ve spent over ten years researching masks and how the human spirit is levitated toward giant daily masquerade parties whose guests include everything and everybody but the real you. Grandma used to joke around about Grandpa’s skeletons in the closet. Mom has never truly explained my real fathers dirty little secrets. Truth is…I don’t care. Why should I? If what Native Americans believe to be true that what we do today affects the next seven generations then the bickering on these streets our state can’t pay for must conclude.

Just be you. I’m not worried about not liking you. Opposites attract and today just didn’t happen to be the day our magnets were spun in the proper direction. We’re supposed to have moments of disagreement—it showcases care and concern. Nagging is a jealousy thing, “Take out the trash! Wash the car! Do this work! Once you do…I can be lazy like you!”

Every morning before that bum of a sun wakes up the ink from my pen is spilling thoughts onto a once living tree and inside each pour placed on paper I ask, “So who are you right now? Tell me why you feel this way. Wow! That’s cool is there any more room in there for an ego worth holding onto?”

Keep it real by being real. I can fake a smile better than your mother in law. But why waste the energy being mean and down right honorary?

Control freaks and micromanagers are the most misunderstood people on earth. While driving your path straight into a tree the true real yellow brick road is, “I know how lazy I can be I just don’t want you to become me. By jumping on your back like Yoda on top of Luke Skywalker we can become a full Jedi Knight.”

Radio Broadcasters…oh, oh that’s a pretty scary attempt at trying to explain something especially since every voice you hear or have heard is nothing more than a snow flake blanketing a mountainside. There are no two radio people the same. Each voice and passion is different creating a tale of several cities blessed with some pretty hunky dory stories.

It’s an extremely small world and when you lose a member the silence you feel doesn’t really belong to you, a true broadcaster puts other people first so each of our emotions sits on a chair or stool covered by a person, place of thing that elected to take a few seconds to do something incredibly special…listen. There’s no feeling like it. Which is why so many become addicted to it…the vibration is a gift with endless purpose.

Fifty three inches from the front door of any studio USA one naturally assumes the shapes we create are held together by strong gut wrenching forms of competition…until you take the time to look at the wizards behind the curtain.

It is the birth of love meets performance. Anybody can be a jock but can it be read in the blood shot stains in the corners of your eyes? When spotted a brotherhood of compassion ignites word play and relationship through memories only radio people understand and to my knowlege have never kept to themselves because its always fun to find new listeners to share it with.

Missing from our team of communicators this new sun is Nate Quick.

Google, Facebook, pull off a personal investigation and the picture hung in your gallery to see will be one of radio’s absolute best because he always put the community first. God worked through him everyday and in his shadow rests a legacy influenced and inspired by a desire to do one thing…create in ways that invite people you may never meet to stop by for just a moment to….listen.

The industry and listening family will forever miss Nate’s way of speaking the street.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Knowing someone will not get you to the top...

Maybe it’s my cold winter morning Montana upbringing but the lifeline connected to each corner of the world to which I travel…there’s got to be reason for a debate—a challenge of sorts that heightens the level of ones blood pressure while swiping from the lungs of those involved a truer feeling toward something the average person keeps hiding.

Come on! We all live and work with people who constantly love what it is you bring to the table—only until it affects them, then suddenly the relationship is spoiled because the support system has an oversized hole in it.

Dr. Gary Ranker who authored the book Political Dilemmas At Work finds debating extremely healthy, its an incredible way to reach a collective group nirvana.

Managers, department heads and other big sticks in the mud constantly create ways to make waves and nothing injures them more than the typical employee shrug of the shoulders followed by, “I don’t know…I guess.”

Demanding a debate, feedback or challenging people to think on their own two feet is quickly becoming a lost art…or does the truth lie within the depths of fear of losing your job? From top to bottom at any job in anywhere USA, the squeaky wheel in 2009 can be easily be replaced.

Ranker claims its time to stop exploiting and punishing your employees and start listening to what they think.

Not debating prevents action. Being assertive and making demands of people swipes from the dynamics of what each individual player brings to the game. The best way to get ahead is to drop the political backdrop while adjusting your style of presentation.

During my three to five hour lectures in front of twenty five to one hundred broadcasting wanna-be’s my top goal is to reach into their assumptions and rip reality from their heart. The first stop on the journey is to listen to a person’s dreams. I want to know who they are and what on earth gave them the energy to want to spend half a day listening to a radio work-a-holic?

The debate begins the very second I hear someone say, “I was over at Mike’s Family Restaurant and they said I had a good voice.”

By challenging the person to level with me it opens the door to reality. The voice might sound great but I want to hear the truer tale of how he stood in front of the mirror holding a hair brush like a microphone and talked like a disc jockey. That’s when I instantly tap into the core of their dreams about to come true.

I debate not to anger the steps to which you’ve taken to reach me. I live off the bricks that build a firmer foundation of success.

Dr. Gary Ranker feels American businesses fail today because nobody is taking the time to point out the dynamics of a great team and or experience. Learn to break down the debates and challenges. Study the roots through an open view toward gaining access to a level of being honest.

Received a letter recently from Jordon who has suddenly decided he wants to do voice over work on radio and television commercials. He blatantly asks me to produce a demo of commercials while gifting his new found path with places to locate vocal work.

I couldn’t let this one go without a debate, especially since I keep hearing an old program directors words loud and clear, “Radio is nothing more than a playground for former Taco Bell employees who got tired of hoisting food out the window to waiting customers.” Ouch!

As much as I want to talk to Curtis who stood in front of the mirror pulling off vocal tones that resembled the mighty voice on the air…he’s actually the guy I kind of walk by because he’s learned the first steps of the business—pretend to be somebody you’re not.

Do I come across as a jerk? Yes! Am I a jerk? Depends on who you’re talking to and what demands they’ve placed on my day. I debate to reach reality. It’s an act of true leadership that should be continued because it involves everybody. Unlike Quentin Tarantino, Adam Sandler and George Lucas who write, produce and direct every film they make then complain when it doesn’t attract people to the box office.

By surrounding yourself with yes men you’re setting the ladder of success up for failure.

Learn to ask for peoples ideas because it helps you achieve a better way to climb or dig below a daily mountain of changes and challenges. Getting angry about debates is 100% unhealthy later producing an avenue of horrid thinking and serious lack of productivity.

Do I want you to steal my art? Would you even know what to do with it? Nice! The debate is on!

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Wait until your father gets home!!

How often do you stand in front of a mirror and verbally accuse the eyes looking back of being a creature of habit? All seems well until face to face with the realms of reality based on each habit failing to represent an act of body kindness.

Oh well, can’t wait until January 1st so we can try this again.

Creating a good or bad habit doesn’t just suddenly appear—it’s based on repetitive motion. If everyday for thirty days at 7am I rub my right eye with my left finger while tapping my toe to a bad Country song…the end result is a newly shaped habit, which usually goes unrecognized because everybody surrounding your life and style has created their own mountain of guilty pleasures.

Muscling in on a good habit involves a little elbow grease blessed with large amounts of awareness. The starting point shouldn’t be, “Hey! I’m gonna knock 30 pounds off my waist by taking these Green Tea pills! Wait! According to this late night infomercial I can look six sizes smaller if I buy this rowing machine with a built in water supply and navigation device.”

Being enthusiastic about change is an incredible positive—a new exercise plan or work ethic is physically fun to dive into because it’s got an incredibly cool totally unforgettable new car feel and smell.

Then it happens, you get a solid ten on a single belly flop and the journeys given a new face.

I always laugh when people say, “Wow a second degree black belt…it must have been difficult to learn all those high flying kicks, punches and crazy spins.”

Truth is…getting used to looking stupid in front of other students is the attention grabber, followed by giant invisible battles of every reason why I don’t need to go to class today and why am I forking out this money if all we do is stand here and kick, kick, kick? If I want boredom I’ll turn on the television set.

Getting over the heave ho mountain starts with a serious realization: Start your vision quest off by going extremely small. Success can be attained by putting faith in small increments. If you want to see it in physical form, spend ten minutes with a couple whose been married fifty plus years—learning how to put up with each others different personalities one step at a time created a firm foundation.

The problem with goal setting is that horrid disease called enthusiasm…a good dose of the natural stuff lasts about two to three weeks—sadly that’s when we reach for the power drinks, bars and pills that guarantee enormous amounts of energy. I spent many mornings at the gym being trained by a professional who wouldn’t begin the day without a pot of coffee in his gut then shout, “It’s time to boogie til we puke.” I usually did about thirty seconds into squats. Ok…next goal! I’ll take up ant and worm watching!

Remember when I mentioned awareness…that nearly too big of a word comes in right about now. Once your goal has begun, it’s imperative you stay fully aware of all things connected to the journey. Look for seeds of habits sprouting little wings then document it. Keep the colors of your eyes glued on changes and or lack of then document it. By journalizing your efforts to move up and forward it serves as a map which can be used as a study tool in the years ahead not just for you but those nearby.

It recently happened to me…Mr. Pearlman’s desire of being named a second degree required a need to study other student’s notes. I’m not a believer in starting a book in the middle…I volunteered the pages connected to my first day in Karate—the purpose was based on mindsets and struggles during times of change. To better understand who you’re going to be, it’s best to see who it is you once were.

Starting with small goals narrows your focus which increases your power. Enthusiasm is everything! By starting off small you’re capable of controlling it. The goal isn’t to scream victory but rather to ensure success—a black belt isn’t the final step in a martial arts class…it’s only the beginning.

Through gradual change you’re gifting your mind, body and soul every reason to believe in the reasons behind being the boss. Jordan Sparks says it best in her new song, “One step at a time.” Learn to say it, live it and breathe it. When someone greets you, “How’s it going?” Tell them the truth and feel proud about it, “One step at a time.”

Blah, blah, blah words, words, words….how can we put such stupid conversation to work in an already busy livelihood? Nobody has the time to properly take care for themselves! We have places to go, sights to see, new teachers to meet and then its time for dinner where we’ll spend the entire moment of bliss discussing our worst fears of why we think today is our final day at the places we work, that evolves into the government controlled health care issue then foreign leaders with giant bombs then the 11:00 news where its fed back into us one drip at a time.

Exercise! Not 30 minutes…give me five to ten.

Walking! Not a blister on our little toe three to eight miles…lets go around the block each night

Productivity: Stop multitasking and regain your biggest and best strength…its called focus.

E-mailing: Get off that computer and cell phone. Bicker, bicker, bonk, bonk, you’re setting yourself up for failure when every moment available is spent wet blanketing a friend or family member.

Healthy eating: One carrot at a time. A sudden change creates a craving. That’s when you begin to lose enthusiasm.

Decluttering: Julia Cameron calls it cleaning out the closet. Don’t sell it at a garage sale or flea market…dump it. Rid your life of every path that’s seemingly tied to a bad memory. You aren’t going to the Rock N Roll Hall of Fame and the state isn’t going to dedicate a section to you and your efforts at the museum…get the junk out of your trunk and create a newer, healthier room with a view.

We all have habits. My worst is my mouth…I never know when to shut up. Growing up in Montana its how we kept warm, talk, talk, talk. Just call me the word dump.

Steal my art…

Monday, August 17, 2009

Stop ignoring you!

In this corner weighing in at two point three tons…traveling all the way from the center point between your ears just above that honkin nose…ladies and gentleman it’s your mind!

And in that corner, barely a crowd favorite in any of the four corners of the world but always ready to pop lock and drop the competition…your gut!

This battle is scheduled for two hundred thousand rounds with no time limit. There is no referee which means anything goes.

Let’s get ready to ____________ (the writer didn’t get written permission from man who coined the phrase so the word rumble will not appear in this sentence. We tried to hire a backup word but at today’s union costs and lack of cash for my clunker who could afford to go the distance. So when we say Let’s get ready to __________ please for the safety of our well being do not saying the word rumble.)

Is it your mind or gut that creates intuition? Are both thought starters required in the process of generating that little bit of something something we feel but can never materialize until we’ve been delivered reality?

The reason why most people push intuitions away is because it’s not logical.

Your everyday is overcrowded with critical thinkers who require a backup for their conclusion. Being from the logical family an intuition is nothing more than a tingle and true faith can’t make its way to confidence if your belief system isn't put into play.

How many meetings or gatherings have you attended where someone you’ve just met or even your boss has nonchalantly shared an out of place grin or a decision was made and well beyond your control your body is telling you (intuition) that the price of rice in China no longer comes with value. Meaning the situation has changed and it aint right.

Dr. Carolyn Kaufman calls those invisible moves people make Micro-expression.

They are controlled by an intuitive sense. A super fast expression that showcases how another person feels without them realizing the world has fallen witness to something they’re unwilling to share.

Your brain is the first to pick up on sudden changes. It sends the signal straight to your senses where you’re able to digest it by means of intuition and or a gut feeling. The subconscious is processing the information that the conscious is not aware of.

Sounds pretty stupid and way over your head until you realize that intuition is nothing more than the tiny print on a contract, a magazine advertisement and or a voice on the radio at the end of a car commercial saying, “See dealer for details.”

Dr. Kaufman says intuition is felt as an emotion. Those who experience emotion physically and verbally have the most difficult time dealing with intuition because its tough to keep such feelings beneath the surface of your skin.

I’m one of them. For nearly five decades I’ve been accused of being a hypochondriac. I physically can’t leave intuition alone. If I feel something it’s spoken. If I’m introduced to another persons micro-expressions without a doubt I instantly find myself in lock down mode as an actor to sink or swim through the situation.

Author Lynn Robinson revealed in her book Trust Your Gut how to better handle situations you feel without physically laying your hands on them. First you have to understand you’re not alone. Ancient Chinese believed in the wisdom of intuition believing it generates from what Korean’s call the Dan Jan…the core of your stomach. Even Buddha taught you can see, feel and taste your present two years before it’s unveiled.

People like me who are daily if not hourly sickened by constant intuition are forced to deal. The best method of survival is to give that feeling a voice. The author of the Artist Way Julia Cameron calls it an inner child. I wasn’t so nice—he’s earned the name the Beast to which I speak of bluntly in both my books.

By giving your beast or inner child a voice you’re opening a line of communication the average person will never understand but you have to work your way through it. Allow yourself to be interviewed by intuition. Put faith in understanding its energy and revealed will be a sharper more keen reason to see you’re extremely far from being ten steps shy of a Looney place of living.

Your body talks to you all the time. It’s critical thinking that keeps you from listening.

If hunting down the perfect job is keeping you unemployed or at a job where nightmares never cease—grant yourself permission to go with intuition, you always have the right to locate a happier place to create.

Easier said than done right? In her book The Vein of Gold, Julia Cameron teaches us to make a list of ten things we absolutely without a doubt love to do. Upon doing this you’re opening the door for newer ideas that will lead you toward a field of success. It’s sort of like The Secret which was heavily promoted by Oprah—nothing happens unless you’re willing to bring to you.

Get to know the intuition by answering this question: What do you feel when the sense arrives? What worries you about it? Play a child’s game with it by writing down: I first met him or her at _______ place. Upon shaking hands and smiling we _______. It’s ok to call your intuition psycho and or a weird character in a play. For goodness sakes I call mine the Beast and to this day that freak on a leash walks beside me.

Don’t stop there…ask follow up questions: What did you feel when I delivered that answer? You’ll discover a side of you that has remained untouched making way for a newer world to be given air to breathe.

In Tae Kwon Do we are taught to meditate for extremely long periods of time. We meditate sitting down, standing up holding a medicine ball and or meditate with moving through motions of the martial arts. We’re listening to intuition while giving it strength to make our life and style better.

I can’t say it enough….teach yourself to write everyday and suddenly all that’s invisible will come with color. I’m not asking you to write a book, just three pages and on the days you don’t want to write…do it anyway using extremely larger than life letters…to which you’ll one day return to laugh at on a day you might be sad.

Steal my art…

Friday, August 14, 2009

Word dumps are fun to jump around in...

Back to school, fall sports practice, jogging, pumping the weights, baby showers, weddings, family reunion, lunch with a coworker, sister or Mother in law…weekends aren’t about being bored. We are booked up like Rock Stars and bribe spouses, best friends and kids to keep the tour bus on track.

Reality isn’t always down with that. If you’re from California or been anywhere near it, the idea of being late is perfectly accepted—being from Montana, it was tough to look a cow in the eyes and explain to them at 5am why your decision to make them wait is far more important.

If you wanna dance with American Culture you gotta challenge the big and little hands on the clock. In my book 3pm means 2:01. I blame the boogie on radio station program directors that demanded your creative ways to be in the studio breathing the air one hour before the performance.

Before computers, show prep included setting up the stage—if you weren’t spinning 45’s and albums the tunes were on 8-track like pieces of plastic called carts. It was part of the job to pull everything out and lay it in a way where it was extremely easy to play. Life without the World Wide Web meant reading magazines and newspapers. Trying to fit into a listener’s life and style was far from being connected to Google or Bing.

Outside the four walls of creative flow sits a brand new weekend…our days become one in the same…it’s like watching an up and coming symphony—the right hand plays the part of the woodwind instruments while your left dabbles with the violins and cellos, one foot is giant kettle drums and the other is the single bass guitarist who couldn’t land a spot in a local rock band playing at the pub tonight.

So what happens when you start seeing double?

You’re booked to be in two different places at the same time…what is the proper way to play, plan and dive out of a bad situation? Is it legal to go faceless and send a brave e-mail? Totally acceptable according to Anne Marie Sabath the ethics expert—cell phone calls are better accepted because you know the message went through but e-mails help keep the door open. Just don’t leave anyone hanging.

I personally have a problem with time—that sickness was beautifully showcased at the doctor recently when my 9am appointment suddenly became 9:50. Whether you’re hosting a party, meeting a friend or dining at a doctor’s office how long are we truly expected to wait before sounding off a peep?

I was 100% wrong to make mention of my appointment being 50 minutes beyond the well documented original idea. Anne Marie says 15 minutes is when it’s ok to start getting a little squeaky. In my situation the doctor wasn’t late, they elected to change why they were seeing me and somewhere within their winding halls someone forgot to pass the word to my antsy pet peeve ways of living.

The most important part of your expression toward people being late is to guarantee your personal travels are given plenty of time from that day forward so you aren’t the person people are waiting for.

It’s kind of like spell check on a computer—if it drives you insane to constantly read other peoples bad spelling make sure your electronic connections don’t fall into the very trap that drives you nuts. There’s no need to vocally exchange a disgruntled behavior, feel your way through it by softly letting the person you’re conversing with know of their word presentation. Ask things like, “Did you mean to say?” Or jokingly on your computer make a mistake and while they’re watching hit spell check. Not everybody is computer savvy and being on this thing has made the majority of us horrible spellers when holding a pen or pencil.

I personally prefer to read computer print font size 18 because the way we print is nothing more than a cloned doctor. Is that an “a” or a “u” wow…you meant to make it an “o” no and “e” sometimes “y”

If you saw my signature you’d instantly see why friends call me Butt-row. It’s a large “A” with a scribble blah blah blah. The “A” looks like the south end of a donkey headed north followed by R.R.O.E. Hey look! Butt-row has been here!

The reason why our handwriting has gotten worse is because we aren’t expected to use it unless filling out doctor and dentist nosier than nosey reports for their files. When was the last time you sent your mother a handwritten letter? With on-line banking prepackaged envelopes are not only a waste of a great tree but there’s no need to kill time filling in your address in the upper left hand corner.

Soon to be gone are the avenues to which we properly type. How many semesters are we away from high schools teaching texting? The right thumb is used to reach this letter, than that one…if you can text 80 words perfectly per minute you get the job. By the year 2525 we’ll no longer have fingers…it’ll be fifteen pound thumbs.

See what happens when the doctors office is fifty minutes late…this vivid imagination is given permission to look at everything that moves while putting great study in reasons why some choose to sit still. The key signal sent when typing, texting or writing the word “life “is what’s found in the middle…..if. That guarantees you a choice.

If _________ write it out ten times and put your vision inside the space presented.

Steal my art…

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Too busy to notice the chocolate running down my nose...

Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “What lies behind you and what lies before you are tiny matters when compared to what lies within you.”

You can divide any American office into four separate categories: Those who live in a past they can’t change, people focused on a future they’ll never control, a small group of I’m not paid to care and the total “no” shows at the meeting because free food wasn’t offered.

As we daily design our workday with need to do’s, gotta do’s and should really do’s…taken out of the everyday game is what lies within you. That invisible spirit, kick in your step, reason to believe, a gone numb but still exists memory of putting you before your career.

Oh boy…find the computer mouse, double click, click…get out of this!

With less than two weeks left of your child’s summer where’s your focus? I’m not your daddy so you don’t have to fake a grin followed by a quick spin toward the ideas of what used to be fun...this isn’t about taking an overpriced vacation. That requires a giant mouse and friends, rollercoaster’s and screams, fishing poles with large baited hooks and long, long, long drives with the kids.


Just two days away from the television, cell phone, video game, e-mail and PDA. No CD’s, DVD’s or credit cards. 100% deprivation—a total retreat from the life and style you’ll never catch up to and yet you’re so willing to die trying.

Just like Blackberry a couple chapters back, when Twitter took a dive last week coworkers instantly could see, feel and hear which individuals in the office were completely addicted to modern day communications. I want to be the fly on the wall watching the person attempting to explain to their grandchild that we as a people stopped talking verbally to each other when computers made way for reasons to take up typing with our thumbs.

Wait a second! Slowly we’re turning the final corner of the full circle. Cave men grunted. How many more shapes of type type type will it take to create ug ug?

Every store on the block is brimming with Back to School items at really really cheap prices. Let’s go shopping for pens and pencils, a notebook, scissors, glue stick, poster board, easy to cut up magazines and a non-digital camera. Getting lost in creativity is the greatest retreat anyone can and will experience.

Sure it sounds stupid. So did the thought of telephones one day being held in the palm of your hand while taking a walk through the park.

Seven things will begin to take shape when you toss away for two days anything considered electronic: truth, concern, ideas, desires, hope, reality and dreams. In my first book I wrote about prayer, “I want, I want, I want.” Hardly anybody stops talking to listen. This current method of breathing called life is no different. The only problem is, thanks to banks and lending institutions we don’t have to wait for a higher power to get what we want…we’ve got credit…or at least we did until last November and it’s left some pretty addicted people all messed up in the mind body and soul.

For seventeen years I’ve patiently participated in the rebirth of an inner city forest with a long term goal of one day creating enough naturalness that deer, hawks, owls, rabbits, snakes, turtles and human passerby’s would one day stop and for a single second they’d locate a sip of something so invisible it can never be explained. This past May came the day when it was time to plant roses, not one or two but long, long rows of beautiful naturally grown roses.

Bright, unforgettable and good food. What? Deer and rabbits love roses. Every time I get a fresh set of blossoms in, late into the night they sneak into the yard and pluck it like bucket full of popcorn. I can’t raise my voice. No need to become disgruntled and or race to a big box store searching for chemicals to sprinkle. It’s their forest…I rent space inside mother natures place.

I’ve elected to share my retreat. It aint about me…created 100% without electronics.

Once you decide to set aside all that is cool, wow and ever so sweet along the lines of these so called electronics…take a picture of yourself before the forty eight hours begin. The reflection delivered on the opposite end puts ink inside a poet’s pen. Without a doubt your newly discovered retreat has the ability to put a fork in the middle of your highway of everyday dreams.

Stay-cation, day-cation, a quick trip to the mountains, beach, state park, river or creek…none of it means anything until you take the time to discover you first.

Steal my art…

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Celebrating her life in a day when having gold means more than dollar value ...

Eunice Kennedy Shriver…

If you pay close enough attention to the dots we follow, a solid line connects our separate paths to the chance takers before us. Like the white and yellow stripes governing control on a freeway congested with oversized trucks, atmosphere killing cars and thin slivers of chrome called motorcycles—it’s not until something suddenly becomes missing that you’re able to put focus on the roots and or origin of an idea that changed life.

February 10, 1959 born into the world was a thick headed well determined little boy who knew nothing of his future and the challenges he’d immediately face. While doctors and nurses fought to stay awake, faith in fate fell from grace leaving family members divided on the continued presentation of his purpose. The upper elders of the family quickly voted to institutionalize the innocence of a newborn while my mother learned to trust Eunice Kennedy Shriver.

My brother Teddy is said to be mentally challenged.

Through the efforts of Eunice and those who connected their dots to her path a world so easily thrown away in the chapters before her page became visible in the way of bravely stepping out and forward to create newer reasons to love, support and allow grow in a natural love filled environment a child with special needs.

Eunice Kennedy Shriver shaped The Special Olympics. The very games that serve as a stage to the brilliantly designed minds blessed with heart felt passion to reach for goals a society once hid from the masses.

It would be no more.

Rather than be shoved into hospital corners and fed large avenues of drugs to keep calm Mom made sure Teddy was given the opportunity to live life and that’s what being part of the Special Olympics offers every season leading up to the World Games every four years.

To hold the bronze, silver and gold medals he’s collected while listening to the stories of how he wouldn’t allow himself to be a quitter not only inspired me but influenced the end result of all things connected. Teddy’s spirit has lifted me through extreme battles of depression, work-a-holic addictions and my most recent sickness—because he never faltered that infamous smile he wears daily is what feeds the vision of wanting to share it with people you may never meet.

Eunice Kennedy Shriver took from the wind a sip of something special and turned the fruits it would one day bear into large orchards of wisdom and belief by means of making everyone no matter what age, size or challenge…a champion of life.

The world lost Eunice this morning.

She wasn’t Michael Jackson so there won’t be any large arenas rented for the world to send their condolences. She wasn’t John Hugh’s so HBO, TMC and Cinemax won’t be playing nonstop movies. Eunice fought a daily war but it won’t earn her a nicely draped flag over her casket.

Millions if not billions will continue walking today not knowing of who, what, when, where and why Eunice did what she did. Not until you notice a single child with his parent…

Not everyone comes with ten fingers and toes, for those who don’t…the dot that was once Eunice Kennedy Shriver created a line that served as a path to help set trillions then, now and tomorrow free.

In her honor…please know in your heart that when you make a donation to the Special Olympics every dream becomes a reality.

Monday, August 10, 2009

Shake up the warm rootbeer then open it in the car...

While fulltime jobless rates skyrocket in the Southeast, the steamy hot speech on the already beat up street is temporary—temp agencies are up, moving and hiring. Be it a new opportunity or making “some” rather than none, the goal is to keep your engine purring like a kitten.

This is where I get in most of my arguments—delivered back to me are quick fisted thoughts of protection, “Not me! Never! I am this person not that! I won’t break my routine! I will find a new place and slip right back in.”

By total luck we live in the world’s greatest nation which gifts down-and-out times with ample amounts of unemployment dollars. The decision to kick you away can be seen two different ways, the birth of a brand new beginning or twenty six weeks, 182 days 4, 368 hours of vacation…a luxury that can leave you pounding Control Alt Delete on your mental keyboard.

While you’re rebooting the rest of the world has already passed your last business decision.

Microsoft and Windows constantly feed your computer upgrades…where’s yours? If you elect to stop downloading info into those ten fingers and toes during this age of everyday change and growth, the distance between here and there forces your long term goals to do nothing more but stand on the corner of walk and don’t walk.

Nobody likes change! But seriously, life would be boring without it.

Heading up the challenge to land a new job swipes the air out of your lungs, it’s not healthy for incredibly shy people like me. You feel like a stepchild or the neighbor everybody on the block points their witch finger at. As much as you want to feel like your first day getting back to work is a gift, the opposite side of that coin rests on the fear of not being able to live up to it.

It’s not supposed to be easy but it’s ultimately up to you to make it fun.

One of the biggest challenges coworkers face hourly is making it through a parade of demands. When you first started the concept of performance was at an all time high and people dug what you brought to the field. You were fresh from the long rest. You had character and respect for new ideas. You were the apprentice!

The problem with that is nobody hangs with that description too long. You watched, you studied and you wrote everything down including your name ten thousand times on documents that promised you wouldn’t sell ideas to a competing company if they elected to turn you free after a 90 day trial period. You had a new car smell.

New people restore confidence.

While gaining knowledge and experience a coworkers ego is heightened because when it comes down to it…most actually know what they’re talking about and can back it up. Sadly that relationship lasts about as long as you can hold a seriously hot baked potato. Only to face untrained strain on the ocean shores ahead because the mentor wants more and your available ambition has done what only comes natural…moved forward at the workplace. Suddenly we have a battle royal of emotions.

Dr. Gary Ranker is an expert in the field of restructuring business relationships—if the fear of getting to know new people has you inching closer to your final government check, grip the bar in front of you and let’s put a different spin on the way people have treated you.


Just like Control Alt Delete, you need to know where your business relationship reset button is. The goal is to get in a position where each party involved benefits from the situation; it should never be a lopsided one person takes all the glory. By becoming engaged in each others end result trust is given the chance to breathe.

Problem solving with two heads attains achievement creating objectives that can be conquered. The power of workplace connection during a recession is absolutely the most brilliant move any employee can make.

If there are bad feelings between the two parties…Dr. Ranker calmly invites your side of the situation to take control of the emotions. Being the first to find motivation in a repair and rebuild relationship makes you the adult and or professional who showcases a willingness to exceed the limits of expectation. Someone needs to be the first to move…make it you.

The only reason why I love confrontation is because I grew up in a house of eight kids, two hundred rabbits, a handful of chickens and a billion pigeons. If we weren’t bouncing each other off the wall Mom and Dad threw us in the car headed straight for the doctor to see what was wrong.

From family to friends to faces and voices met while shaking hands I’ve been introduced to every reason why the urge to return to work or the desire to quit rips through them like a bad hangover. You’ll spend years and thousands of dollars in psychotherapy trying to pen out answers when all you ever wanted to be was happy.

Be in the business of you.

Hoist your life and style into a part time position then spend the rest of your eight hour workday doing something that benefits you. Treat yourself like a coworker and learn a better way to highlight the importance of both final outcomes. There’s no written rule that states you can only have one part time job. By working several, this allows you the power to design your day and night like a true rock star. If one doesn’t work out…who cares? Because you took the time to feed each of your efforts you’ll never be unemployed again.

Be in the business of you. A place of business isn’t a job. It’s your current client. Like a great client they are well taken care of with the end result being a life filled with your success not a totem poll of managers who landed the position because they wear suits.

Congratulations on your new beginning! Go get em Tiger! Ok…maybe that was too much.

Steal my art…

Friday, August 7, 2009

You can still see without an I...

If you’ve ever been to South Beach in Miami during the swelling days of summer the adventure reaches beyond a single central line of normal life on American soil. The distant crash of water in wave form shaking hands with sands that have waited quite possibly a hundred years to make their way back across the Atlantic ocean combined with the scent of sound accented by dance rhythms that penetrate your nearest touch steal from the sky the colors of a rainbow and place it in the scrapers called condos which give dreamers a place to dive.

On the opposite side of the page rests an always playful Hollywood where weekends begin on Thursday but Saturday nights never flourish until 3 am. Being on time is a waste of time and glamour resembles a chapter ripped from the book of Nirvana and Pearl Jam because Grunge has never left the only place on earth where being totally whacked out different will score you a role on a sitcom or low budget film.

The experience…

If you’re like me, you’ve been there done that and if we can’t do it again then where is Bill Gates and Nintendo to reinvent the wheel? Thanks to cheap computer parts, commercialism and the full right to fight for a great party no American walks about on any given day without having experienced something, anything that makes what we’ve cultured great.

To experience is to live. Stand five minutes in front of your child and through their untrained visions they’ll see more than your mommy and daddy name tag. Upon the travels they’ve not yet reached and through your every level of excitement, disappoint or dreams that may one day come true…you are Experiencer.

Write your name at the top of a clean sheet of paper…below it, pen out single lines of everything you are and have done.

Arroe Collins:

Writer, poet, short story, long form, spirituality, murder mystery commercial producer, on air radio talent, best friend of my dentist cuz he sees me twice a year for cleanings, dog lover, rescuer of seven so far, birds are my jazz blah blah blah…

Every experience comes with three ingredients: A sense of perception, a mental image and emotion. Each of my identifications can be cut into several pieces, the published poet, writing teacher, realist tree hugger, master of the word dump.

All writers have a sense of perception, “Wow a book in a real store!” The mental image is far greater than walking into a Barnes and Noble and noticing the same book has been sitting there for six months. Emotionally its hard to digest which shuts off your creative flow.

That recently happened to me in New Orleans—a new art gallery opened in the historic district, the owner loves my paintings of “Charleston.” Not New Orleans but Charleston. The concept of inviting the future to step forward to create a new history fed their fantasy until it came time for Louisiana art collectors to purchase.

Zilch…nothing, boom! Pow! Ka-blewy!

So what did the owner do? They emailed a letter that simply stated, "Give up your efforts to invite others to see your vision. From the colors of acrylics you’ve selected to the style of frames that border your paintings you have failed in New Orleans as an artist.”

No argument…but there was a rebuttal.

I called the gallery and professionally said, “Mr. and Mrs. Blank Blank are coming to your incredible showroom in the next couple of days. I do not know them but they are to take the paintings for free.”

Display your art so you can learn how to ignore criticism.

You, your parents, neighbors, coworkers and pain in the rear boss are the Experiencer. Through consciousness you have lived life. Once identified, it becomes an object and that’s where the trouble begins—the knower versus the known. Introducing the world of I, I, I, me, me, me.

Being an “I” has no form. Experience is timeless. Once you’ve attached “I” to it…it’s been dated and signed.

An intern recently pointed out her disappointment in radio by saying, “There aren’t any clocks in this building! I never know what time it is.”

Looking around the room to which we stood the attempt was to locate a positive based on reasons that could be understood, “If you never know what time it is, a creative project never feels like it’s been rushed.”

Be it a quick visit to the beach, up to the mountains, back home to Bread Basket USA or sewing a button on a three year old shirt that should’ve been dumped before you left the mall store, the greatest impediment we face daily, hourly and second by second is the discovery of inner space. Therefore are we truly experiencing or just labeling?

Growing up in Montana meant winter days blessed with 42 degree below zero temperatures that glued your nose shut. One day the ice skating rink at Optimist Park called to the referees of life in a way of challenging the everyday playbook…it just wasn’t fair people were staying away. The wind chill factor was at an extremely dangerous 57 below…it became an adventure to layer up the clothes four thick and experience what it would be like if there was a nuclear attack. How would the body react? You do these stupid things in Montana not because we’re boneheads and freaks but when your home state features a town whose motto is Missile City USA…you can’t help but wonder, “What if?”

Get to know your Experiencer and start sharing the stories without saying I, I, I…

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Quick! Smell my writing fingers!!!!

Attended the world premiere of Julia and Julie—a cleverly delivered masterpiece starring Meryl Streep and Amy Adams loosely based on the life and lives affected by a true master chef Julia Child.

I love food but that’s not what drew me closer to the dinner table.

Julia Child with her highly enriched over pronounced words and delivery and passion to constantly keep every moment positive didn’t want but rather demanded one opportunity—to be happy. She waited until her forties to have sex and could barely fry an egg not before earning but purchasing her way into a well touted culinary school in France.

Julia deeply cherished the invisibleness of flavor vowing to personally discover the arrival and makings of every ingredient as a way to invite those she loved into a world blessed by an artists tongue.

Amy Adams is wanna-be writer Julie Powell whose dead end government job tastes like raw unprepared chocolate. Ever put a spoon full of sugarless cocoa in your mouth and attempt to swallow? Gag! Cough! Cough! Can’t talk! Gag! No air!

Through daily writing she’s able to speak a language millions around the world can hear without having to shove her mixture between two book covers policed by publishing companies locked down in money making mode.

Thanks to the World Wide Web “all writers” have a place to go…Blogging. It’s free, its marketed in every country that gets electricity and you’re instantly connected to readers who can relate, want to dream with you and or are inspired by the paths of choice elected to adventure.

It’s easy to assume such expressions are nothing more than Dear Diary documents—so let it be. Not a single soul placed upon this earth is alone, what you see, feel, hear, taste and smell has been lived out by someone across the street or completely around the world in a dark corner of lost sunsets until the moment you meet.

While living in France, Julia Child disappointedly noticed the brilliance of French cooking was completely unavailable to English speaking housewives. To fall witness to such vividness without realizing what to add and how much strapped her to a wall with only eyes that could reach the horizon.

Through synchronicity her steps crossed a single line that introduced her to a voice that would listen while scoring her backstage passes to some of the longest best kept secrets in culinary history.

It seemed so simple to paste American words over French…it might have been if publishers could’ve seen the purpose behind the painting Julia elected to hang. Just like Thomas Edison, Julia was hand delivered failure after failure which in essence molded the perfect chef by means of locating newer ways to communicate to anyone addicted to the finely tuned craft of food design.

Julie Powell challenged herself to take Julia’s book and make it a reality. Child's hard driven desire to mastermind a plan to communicate to simple people the precious delivery of unforgettable food evolved into Julie's daily blog—she prepared a new dinner every night then spent hours on the computer writing about the experience.

The birth of a writer is like watching a bright red rose stretch its petals from this side of the map to the other. I didn’t cry at the arrival of Julie Powell, the waves of emotion from one writer to another swelled to the point of a tsunami and my cheeks became its final place of rest before sinking into the soils below.

Another Julia as in Cameron, the maker of The Artist Way and former wife of Martin Scorsese teaches us that every human planted on this giant blue rock was born to write. It is set within our limits of individualisms that calms the purpose of there being a reason to send thought across a once living tree so we stop writing by the age of thirteen.

Teachers with giant red pens keep books from being published. Husbands and wives who constantly have to be in the know keep writers from expressing. Friends with too much honesty and barely a pinch of compassion shatter the depth a writer wants to bring. Bosses and coworkers destroy the confidence a writer must experience before publicly displaying their poetry.


Benjamin Franklyn was recently named our nations first ever blogger. He didn’t work for a newspaper, magazine, local television news team or greeting card company. He wrote to write. Writing is the flow created when your body pumps out energy for the world to fall witness to. There is life after life then more life after your last writing project is held in the hands of a life you’ll never meet face to face.

The first to arrive on the land to which we walk, drive and dream was experienced first by Native American’s. Storytelling was their guarantee that each tradition would be handed down so that each elder present would live beyond their human delivery. In the past fifty years the stories have stopped. The well aged are no longer speaking. Books are not being written. The tale of those before us is dying.

What if you hold the single note that helps make a persons life have music? Through your silence as a writer, to whom are you being fair to? Life isn’t about you.

Steal my art…

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

If you aren't chewing that already chewed up gum...can I have it?

The most contagious disease on earth has nothing to do with sickness…there’s nothing worse than getting caught up in a circle of yawns. Sally from sales is the first to bust open her chops with a 2.6 second long up then out, followed by Harold from H.R. who elects to spice it up a bit with a tiny stretch. Wait! In the corner, Aaron from Accounting has pulled off a double team with Ian the Intern, instantly their arms shoot into the air, their faces take the shape of worn out pears…Holy cow we’ve got a homerun hitter on the opposite side of the room…its Debbie the door monitor who tries to hide her yawn but it ends up bursting out her nose.

What kind of message are we sending when attacked by a serious case of the middle of the day yawns? Do we let them rip or should we play lets pretend?

Office manners genius Anne Marie Sabbath sternly says, “Always bring water to a meeting. No matter how boring the guest speaker or boss becomes, it’ll keep you awake.”

A yawn is nothing more than your body searching the atmosphere for oxygen…water comes with tons of that legalized rush. Sip it, gulp it or pinch your nose to hide the flavor, if you want to wake up in lame brain meetings nab the water.

Caffeine and oversized power drinks are often used but there’s no better way to abuse that tiny self begging to be set free from the meeting. Getting juiced up sucks the liquid from your pallet forcing you to get what I call smacker talk. Every word or sound your talker makes resembles a ten thousand year old dry desert.

According to Anne Marie; attentiveness scores when your offense has elected to haul tail to places of fantasy.

So what happens when a meeting has been scheduled for weeks and the moment you arrive the room is being anchored by a completely different group? Do you pull off a Beastie Boys king sized fit in the way of fighting for your right to party?

Keep the power in your corner by electing to be the first to move to a new location. There’s no reason to waste hard to locate mid-day energy on something that can be easily solved. Don’t shove ego and attitude into the miscommunication, wait until after both meetings are completed. Carefully studying the beginning, middle and end keeps your entire team locked in a winning attitude.

What if we walk into a room and there are new people attending the business meeting? Are we busting the laws of physics by carrying our sleeping bottoms to the farthest chair and plopping down or should we play the shake and bake game—shaking hands, kissing babies and running for public office.

Inside these untrusting times in American places of business the goal is to create an opportunity to meet the already timid visitor. It’s ok to select a seat next to them with a firm plan to bust out in open conversation. It’s a little pushy and butt kissy but it pushes open a door. Good clean workday fun best fits when you don’t insist. In every meeting there’s always down time…make eye contact and smile. If you’re allowed to freshen up the drink supply, make room in your short term plan to say hello but nothing more. We don’t care about Helga and Cranky Dave in the supply closet nor do they need to be introduced to Hot Tamale Tommy whose outfit today is totally GQ.

Be savvy by not enforcing your fears onto the new person. Humans are like books…our hard covers are easily judged. No matter how bad the sewage smells, convince your mind, body and soul that every petal presented is straight from the center of a bright red rose.

This reminds me of a quote radio legend Mary London recently shared with me, “Friends are the family members we get to pick…take care of them.”

Just because Hilarious Hank from the Hillside office doesn’t tickle your funny bone, when you least expect it…he might be the only engine who takes note of your battery running dry and offers something you can relate with to get you through the day.

In Julia Cameron’s book The Artist Way at Work no matter how odd Copy Machine Maggie, Purple lips Pricilla and Percolator Paul may come across, each player presented is a valuable piece of the missing link. Taking the time to learn more about your coworkers without having a resume tossed at you like seafood in Seattle builds a relationship set on locating easy solutions rather than feeding oceans of complain, complain, complain.

For goodness sakes Ryan Seacrest and I work for the same company…the dude does every radio job and beyond. Rather than scream, “Be fair!” My goals would be to secretly conger a plan that enables the two of us to build the biggest and best super soaker to add summer play to a dog’s day of blah blah blah. Nobody makes it that far in this business without fine tuning the craft of out of the box fun. Give me thirty seconds with Seacrest and I’ll find it.

Steal my art…