Trust30, day 1: 15 Minutes To Live

#Trust30 is an online initiative and 30-day writing challenge that encourages you to look within and trust yourself. Use this as an opportunity to reflect on your now, and to create direction for your future. 30 prompts from inspiring thought-leaders will guide you on your writing journey

"We are afraid of truth, afraid of fortune, afraid of death, and afraid of each other. Our age yields no great and perfect persons." – Ralph Waldo Emerson

You just discovered you have fifteen minutes to live.

1. Set a timer for fifteen minutes.
2. Write the story that has to be written.

It's been a good life.

When I got here, I had feelings of abandonment, betrayal, intense hurt.

Now, and for some time, I've had a much better idea of what this has been all about.

I chose this; I did it all.

I wanted to know, to REALLY know and to learn at a level that is as close as one's breath and this is what I've had. And now as I wind down, with a mere 13 minutes left, I choose to call this "good."

Why? Simply because I really have captured the dream of this life that has been my life. I can't tell you in hard core evidence that I have "proof" that I can lay out and demonstrate to others. That would be important if and only if I needed to be right.

To be honest, there HAVE been times that I have SO wanted to be "right." Now I don't even know how to define what being right means. It's like trying to hit a constantly changing, ever shifting target. It is exhausting and fruitless except that it gives one an example to contrast against, to compare to.

I've been upset with myself in the past why I didn't do this, achieve that, accomplish the other... and it's all been part of a story; one that I was born into, one that I attracted and one that I help author and further along during this life. Wow, it has truly been "a trip," and it didn't take travels to Tibet, Nepal, Hawaii or anywhere else to make it all happen.

It was all inside. It was a choice, over and over again.

"All is choice." You shared that with me long ago (or so it seems,) and now with but eight minutes to go, I still exercise that choice now as I write this missive (great word!) The choice, eternal and constant, fueled everything that did, re-did or un-did events and understandings. I know I hurt some people. Others I made happy.

But I think that those meetings and the resultant happiness or unhappiness on each of our parts were again, nothing but choices. The power in those choices make up the life that we create and I DO know beyond any doubt that indeed, we DO create our own lives and far more powerfully and insidiously that we may have ever suspected. We are that powerful.

Four more minutes. I thrill that I can sit here and recall so many good and wonderful events, people, places, things and feel just as good NOW as I did when I attracted and encountered these for the first time. Isn't it great to know that I can conjure up that feeling even now in the endgame of my life? That more than anything else tells me just how good it all has been, how wonderful it is.

Lord, I sound like George Bailey as I write here! But you know what? I don't care. It matters not because it DID matter that my life has been good and that I made it far more conscious than not especially as I continued to walk forward.

Last minute. There are no goodbyes as nothing ever dies. In just a moment, I'll know that to the core of what/who I am. That seems like a good place to bid this story adieu...

Appreciation #2: Fear (A process)

It's time. I just gotta say it.

Fear just 100% sucks.

Wait, it gets even worse.

Here we go. Ready?

Everything is energy.

Everything. That includes you and me. You know that "We are all one" crap?

OK, it's not crap.

Like variations on a theme, it's this eternal creative dance, always in process and with infinite variations. And the only way to get these variations are to allow something called "contrast" into the picture. For every "good," a "bad." For every "hero," a "villain."

For every action, an equal and opposite reaction. And that's how the game stays fresh and new.

Wait, it gets better.

You, powerful energetic one, get to decide what is "good," what is "bad," in your particular variation and then you get to decide if your version is "right" and then needs to be defended against those which are "wrong."

Or maybe you'll just allow all of your infinite brethren to play out their own stories and just "let it be," as in "live and let live."

Perhaps you desire something different, something "threatening." Now understand that this little gem is a hard one to create because of who you really are.

Remember at the top; everything is energy? An interesting little notion about energy is that it can neither be created nor destroyed. It just "is."

Starting to get a glimmer about who you really are?

So to feel "threatened," one needs to take one's power and essentially use it against oneself. Look at something and imagine ("make pictures") about how bad, awful, painful, wrong, dangerous, evil, sinister (fill in your favorite negative adjective here) it really is.

Focus on it; make it really big. Have it fill all of your sight, dominate your senses. It's sort of like taking a balloon and writing a really ugly face on it with markers while it's deflated.

Now you use your breath and blow it up really big. Hold it your own hand and put it right against your face until it's huge, scary and the only thing that you can see... and forget it was your breath that filled it up and that it's your hand that's pinching the nozzle, keeping it inflated.

That's fear, sometimes noted as False Evidence Appearing Real.

Ain't that a bitch? And remember, because everything is energy and "we are all one," the world around you will agree with your assessment and rush in to give you even more scary pictures and evidence to show you how right you are in what you're holding on to.

Yeah, law of attraction and all of that "nonsense."

But before you dismiss any of this, think about experiences in your past, good or bad, and recall how they tended to get better or worse the longer you dwelled on them. I'm not interested in convincing anyone here about anything. That would be ridiculous.

Nope, my only role is to point out the dots. You'll connect them as you see fit.

Funny thing about "dots" though. You can connect them in any way that you see fit.

That's the power of choice. That's why we're never stuck... unless we think we are.

...which is why fear sucks.

Appreciation #1: Baseball

I can easily recall my earliest memory of fascination with the game of baseball and the start of my becoming a lifelong fan of the N.Y. Yankees. It was either 1965 or '66 and I was 9 or 10 years old at the time. Absolutely no one in my family watched baseball or expressed any interest in it at all.

We were visiting my grandpa Kondler in Newark, NJ and he was watching a Yankees game on TV. As far as I can remember, he always had sports on whenever I came over and I know that this was where I watched the first AFL-NFL Championship game (later to become known as the Super Bowl.) On this particular day, it was an early season game in what was to be one of a string of dismal seasons for the Yanks. The pitcher was Whitey Ford and he let a pitch go that came rocketing back directly at his face. Somehow at the last possible instant, he got his glove up and caught the ball that would have killed or disfigured him, the force of the liner so intense that his glove shot back, knocking the cap off of his head.

Don't ask me why but from that instant, I was hooked.

I read everything in the library that had ever been written about the Yankees and received "A's" on every book report that I turned in. As all of the games were televised (for free!), I watched as often as possible those dreadful, awful teams of the late 60's and early 70's. My schoolwork would be affected during trips to the west coast as I sneaked my transistor radio under my pillow and lay on the ear piece, dozing in and out of sleep during games that didn't end until 1 a.m.

One of the best memories I have of time spent with my mother was getting out of college late in 1978 and watching the Yanks-Red Sox game on TV at home with her. I think I dented the parlor floor from pounding it when Bucky Dent hit that three-run homer.

Baseball played a significant part in my getting married as my ex-wife and I shared a deep and intense love of the game and the Yankees. I will always be thankful to her for taking me to my first home opener as a birthday present.

I laugh when I think back on the countless hours that my friends and I spent rolling dice and later hitting "enter" on computer keyboards as we replayed seasons with games such as Strat-o-Matic and ASG baseball. The leagues we created led to friendships around the country, a few that live on even today after three decades.

Baseball has brought me some of the greatest joys of my life and I am appreciative of the "National Pastime" beyond measure. I could fill a book with all of the things that I've experienced around the "grand old game" and after sharing a few memories here, I think I shall.

There will be many other "Appreciations" to be shared here but I had to thank my dear old friend "in the lead off spot."

May I Have Your Attention, Please? (or) You Can't Make This Stuff Up... Or Can You?

I don't know if this little news item slipped past you;

Disney to acquire Marvel for $4 billion

(AP) –

LOS ANGELES — The Walt Disney Co. says it is acquiring Marvel Entertainment Inc. for $4 billion in cash and stock, bringing characters like Iron Man and Spider-Man into the Disney family.

Under the deal, Disney will acquire ownership of 5,000 Marvel characters.

Disney said Monday that Marvel shareholders will receive $30 per share in cash plus 0.745 Disney shares for every Marvel share they own.

It said the boards of Disney and Marvel have both approved the transaction, but it requires an antitrust review and the approval of Marvel shareholders.

Once upon a time in the "Land of Make Believe," there was a very expensive marriage...

There are two different ways of looking at this corporate conjugal venture, both fairly interesting. The first wanders into a place we know as "Stone Cold Reality Land."

Consider this: a company that is one of the most widely known and successful entertainment conglomerates in the world, whose origin and worth is based upon the brilliance and driven imagination of one man (who rallied many other like-minded and talented individuals to work and create with him) is acquiring another company that has been around since 1939, was in bankruptcy from 1996 through 2000 but literally has a "cast of characters" known as the "Marvel Universe" which has survived all the lengthy trials and travails of the publishing/comic book industry. Now the payday for persevering has arrived.


Returning to our marriage theme, this then is the union of one company (aka "the House of Mouse") with another that helped spawn the most common form of pulp magazine in America before WWII, the comic book. At a price tag of $4 billion, that's one expensive "imaginary" wedding... which brings us to a second way of looking at this merger back in the "Land of Make Believe."

None of this is "real." It's all fiction, an illusion, child's play... but with one very important catch. We have decided that this is both valuable and real, not "airy fairy" made-up junk.

And how did we do this?

Simple. We paid attention to it.

From the mind of an imaginer (or in Disney parlance, an Imagineer,) comes a creation, a "fancy of flight." Should the imaginer be pleased with the creation, he pays attention to it and thus imbues it with spirit, with life. Now should the imaginer dare to think great thoughts about the creation, he sets it free upon the (maybe) waiting world. What will make or break the success and longevity of the creation is the same thing that brought it to life; how much attention will be paid to it over the course of time.

You see when someone asks for your attention, at that moment you are literally giving away the most valuable thing that you possess. It is so valuable that it can fuel the fire of a creative empire, produce great works of art... or lead down the path of violence, misery and all stops in between.

Why do you think so much "imaginary" money is spent in myriad forms of advertising?

(And by the way, money really is imaginary. It only has value because we've collectively agreed that it does. Should you doubt that, look up Peter Minuit and the 1626 purchase of Manhattan for $24 worth of cloth, beads, hatchets and other odds and ends, a perfectly acceptable transaction there and then.)

From Mickey Mouse to WALL-E, the Fantastic Four to Daredevil, all were spawned via imagination, nurtured by attention and brought to "empire" status via mass attention/mass consciousness. That's how the "Land of Make Believe" really operates and why $4 billion is the price tag in this "little transaction."

Who knows? After reading this, perhaps you won't brush aside someone's "wild imaginings" so casually!

Where Are We Now?

My last blog was about a monumental event that marked its 40th anniversary in July; the first successful landing by man on the moon. It was a co-triumph of science and the bold expansive nature of the human spirit, an event shared by people all over the planet.

This upcoming weekend also marks a noteworthy anniversary. The 15th, 16th and 17th are the 40th anniversary of "3 days of peace and music" that you may have heard of; Woodstock (even though the actual festival location was Bethel, 50 miles from Woodstock, NY.)

In an era before PC's, the internet and cell phones, the "official archives" consist of photographs, an Academy award winning documentary... and stories. The stories were captured by journalists, recited by the "ones who were there" as well as the ones who weren't. That last group includes me. At 13 (and a rebel neither at heart nor practice,) I was transfixed by the stories, captivated by the newspapers and glued to the TV. Something huge was happening and I could feel the energy and impact in the way that parents and adults were talking about it, reacting to it. Sad to say, I remember many were gleeful at the overall horrid conditions and hoping it would result in a bloody disaster.

It didn't. As a matter of fact, there were more births at Woodstock (2) than deaths (1). This is remarkable when you consider that originally they anticipated 60,000 people would attend the festival. When 186,000 tickets were sold, the estimate increased considerably. And then 400,000+ assorted souls decided they just "had to be there." Not included is 250,000 others that who tried but never made it to the site. This is the mass that trekked towards a small town that had a population of 2,366 in August, 1969.

The music was vital, remarkable and diverse. A throng such as this equally enthralled by the music of The Who and folk singer Joan Baez? Indeed, that was the case. A mass of humanity that suffered through two storms in three days; one dumped over three inches of rain in a few hours. Not enough food. Not enough toilets. 100 arrests were made, all on narcotics charges.

Violence? There simply wasn't any. The most wonderful line in the documentary was spoken from stage during the height of the hardship, joy and madness: "There are a hell of a lot of us here. If we are going to make it, you had better remember that the guy next to you is your brother." Obviously, they did.

A generation was defined by this event, a generation that was positioned just in front of mine. I have marveled about Woodstock since the weekend it happened and especially from the time I first saw the film. I wished I had been there but wasn't. That's my misfortune.

On the other hand, the seminal event of the 60's, the Vietnam war, never claimed me nor any of my friends. As we turned 18, the war was winding down and the few draft lotteries we "participated" in claimed none of us. There was no longer any need to "start a revolution." That was my good fortune.

The Woodstock Generation had long hair, scruffy jeans and "classic rock."

Mine had white leisure suits, Saturday Night Fever and disco.

Suddenly, I'm feeling a bit depressed. (Just kidding...)

Once Upon A Time...

Occasionally, the world stops.

When the world stops, it is usually for a moment of high drama. Virtually the entire waking consciousness of the world fixates on an event and/or person in a moment that can range from terror to joy with alternating stops in between. If you've been alive since January 1st, 2000, you've seen a few of them already.

In the "way-back machine" of my life though, there is one moment that happened forty years ago tonight that to me surpasses all of the others. It transfixed the world in a way that is hard to fathom; in a way where the entire world held it's collective breath for several days and especially for about twelve hours.

Forty years ago tonight, men successfully landed upon and walked on the moon.

I know, I know... if you weren't alive then it's just something that you've read about in history books. I understand and had the same feelings when I had to learn about World War II in school. Even though our parents had fought in it, it just wasn't "real" to us.

But imagine if you will that for one night, EVERYONE was watching television around the world. I still remember seeing pictures in Life magazine of tribal people gathered around highly primitive TVs and radios to witness the live reports.

For me, my family was situated in the dark living room in Linden, NJ and I was on the floor, eyes plastered on the screen of our console TV set. I had grown up with the space race, totally captivated each time a Gemini or Apollo flight would take off. To actually be there, watching on TV in my living room as two men walked on the lunar surface was almost beyond my comprehension. I still have an old black-and-white picture of the flickering screen, shot with an old Kodak Instamatic camera. I have newspapers, magazines, collectible mementos all put away in perfect condition from this night. I have proof that "I was there!" It was the defining highlight of my childhood.

As a thirteen year old boy, I knew then that nothing would ever be the same and that prediction surely has come to be. It amazed me how quickly the country became blase' about the space program after that. It took another "world stopping" moment during the gut-wrenching crisis of Apollo 13 to remind us all just how extraordinary this accomplishment really was. "Been there, done that" (along with "got the T-shirt") is a prevalent attitude. I don't really know if that's good or bad however, it most certainly is the way that it is.

For me, I look back on this with great joy and fondness. It is a good memory. With the completion of the International Space station and the stride back towards the moon and then to Mars, I hope that others might get excited about the amazing possibilities that we imagine first "in here" before they appear "out there." These things change the world in far reaching ways.

Forty years to the day, my wish on this moonless night is that we may all experience many more amazing and joyful "world stopping" moments in this lifetime. That's one I can sleep on easily tonight.

Form Me To You

All right, a quick show of hands... how many of you were thinking when you read the headline "Oops, he made a typo"? I'm betting virtually all of you did. However, you're wrong! I meant it exactly as it is written. Ponder these ideas while looking at the amazing sight of the Hubbard glacier in Alaska.

Since the world began, there is not one drop more nor one drop less of water. We have today what we've always had here on the planet since the start. (Just goes to prove that "recycling" is neither new nor original.)

In all of this time, the "form" that water, the essence of life, has taken has constantly shifted from liquid (such as the water you see here) to solid (the ice and snow of the glacier) to gas (the wispy clouds above the mountains.) Somewhere in, on or above earth, all three states consist of the same basic material; flowing, shifting, melding and co-existing, every drop is accounted for just as it's always been.

Take that mind-expanding idea and advance it one major step forward. One of the forms that water takes is snow. Snow is nothing but individual ice crystals falling from the clouds and piling up in various locations on earth. There is an absolute number that represents the total amount of individual ice crystals that have fallen since time began but I'm neither scientific nor mathematical enough to even guess how to annotate that here. As far as I'm concerned, "an infinite amount" does it for me.

...and not two of them have ever been the same. They have all been different.

That is the power beyond knowing that nature is. When I really thought about this, it overwhelmed me at first. However, it also gave me some new ideas, new ways of looking at things; those things are about you and me, the "snowflakes" of humanity. I started looking at "us" in a whole new light.

That's enough "mind-blowing" for one blog. Back with more tomorrow.