Wednesday, December 19, 2012

[Reblog] NUTS! Why Remembering Christmas 1944 Can Change Your Life



by MARCUS BROTHERTON on DECEMBER 18, 2012 

Last Monday I crapped in a plastic bag.
There is no nice way to say that. No genteel or sanitized way to describe the experience.I’d just started taking a new medicine to combat a spastic colon, which I’ve battled on and off for ten years. The medicine promised to do remarkable things.
Instead, it made my condition worse.
En route to an appointment, I was gripped with a sudden, urgent, and uncontrollable need to use the can. There were no exits from the freeway on that stretch of road, no public restrooms or gas stations for miles in any direction. I wasn’t going to make it. So I did the only thing I could think of. I pulled onto the shoulder, set my hazard lights, and did what needed to be done.
I tell that story for a reason.
In this day and age of Facebook personalities, it’s easy to start believing another person’s life is as problem-free as described in an online bio. In my case, I’m a New York Times bestselling author. I’ve got a master’s degree. I’ve got a great wife and family and have travelled all over the world. If you know me only by my bio, then I’m an enviable man.
But here’s the fuller version of the truth. There’s one tiny area of life—in my case, a medical weakness—that I can’t seem to conquer no matter how hard I try.
I bet that you, in your most honest moments, could say something similar about yourself. You’re a capable and confident man. Still, there’s one area of your life where you’re hurting or weak, where you lack control, or can’t seem to overcome. Even Superman had his kryptonite. Achilles had his heel.
Maybe it’s a broken relationship. Or an incident of grief or illness or financial trouble. Maybe you’re grappling with anger or meaninglessness or hopelessness or you’re suffering from an addiction or you’re depressed or tired or you can’t get a job, or you work too hard and get paid far less than you’re worth. Maybe you’re simply stressed out and need a break.
Here’s hope. When I pulled off the road last Monday, I was genuinely miserable. I was sweating and cursing, and feeling embarrassed, and worried that a motorcycle cop was going to come along and ask me what I was doing. I was hating my life.
But in that moment, one word flashed through my mind. It’s a word weighted with determination, and it reminded me not to give up, no matter what life threw at me.
NUTS!
Here’s the story behind the word.
In late November 1944, Allied soldiers were charged with holding the line at a small Belgian town called Bastogne. Word flew in that Hitler was pushing hard and fast, making a last-ditch effort to swing the tide of the war back in his favor. Bastogne proved strategic due to seven crossroads that snaked through the town, roads vital in the transport of troops and ammunition.
If Hitler controlled Bastogne, he would win the war.
The Allied soldiers were rushed up to Bastogne in trucks. They hiked out into the forest in the mud and freezing rain, made a perimeter around the town, dug foxholes, and waited. Food, winter clothing, medical supplies, and ammunition were scarce. Some men didn’t even have boots. They wrapped their feet in burlap bags to stay warm.
The enemy made a larger ring around the Allied troops, dug in, and also waited. Snow began to fall. The temperature plummeted. It became Belgium’s coldest winter in 30 years. The Allied soldiers guarding Bastogne were surrounded.
Then the shelling began. Blood ran. Men on both sides took bullets, lost limbs, and died.
Weeks wore on with little progress. Christmas neared. The two armies were positioned so closely to each other that at night Allied troops could hear their enemies across the line—they were huddled in their foxholes singing Silent Night in German.
On Christmas Eve, 1944, General Anthony McAuliffe, commander of the 101st Airborne Division, issued a flier to his men. It was headlined “Merry Christmas,” and the general wrote, “What’s merry about all this, you ask? We’re fighting. It’s cold. We aren’t home.” He went on to praise Allied troops for stopping flat everything the enemy was throwing at them. Then he described a story that happened two days earlier.
On December 22, the commander of the German army had sent word to McAuliffe. The enemy commander had painted a bleak picture of the Allied position, and insisted there was only one option to save the Allied troops from total annihilation.
Surrender.
When McAuliffe read the demands, he fumed, then sent back to the German commander a reply of only one word.
NUTS!
When the messenger asked for further explanation, he was told, “It’s the equivalent of saying, ‘Go to hell.’”
So, how does remembering Christmas 1944 change your life?
Yesterday evening I went to the mall with my family to do some Christmas shopping. We went into The Gap, and I noticed on the wall a recently-released poster of Michael J. Fox and his wife Tracy Pollan. They were doing a promotional piece to advertise the store.
Michael and Tracy were poised in a warm embrace. Tracy’s face was turned away from the camera, but Michael was staring straight into the lens. There were lines underneath his eyes. Some lines from age. Some from laughter. Some from experience. Some from fighting.And I stared at that poster.
I stared at it a long time.
Michael J. Fox, like Muhammad Ali, has been battling Parkinson’s disease for years. At present, it’s still an unwinnable disease, and its symptoms have only increased in Michael over time.

But here was Michael on a poster in The Gap.

Still working.
Still loving his wife.
Still fighting hard.
Still saying NUTS!
No matter what weakness or problem you’re battling, a dark option always exists to crumble under life’s hardships. When you feel miserable, you’re tempted to quit under the weight of the difficulty.
That’s why remembering Christmas 1944 can change your life. It reminds you that even when life hits you hard, even if you’re fighting in a frozen forest, even if you have Parkinson’s, even if you’re crapping in a bag by the side of the freeway, you keep on going.
You refuse to surrender.
You say, NUTS!
When faced with a difficulty, what ways have you found to persevere through?
_______________________
Marcus Brotherton. Read his blog, Men Who Lead Well, at: www.marcusbrotherton.com

Saturday, December 15, 2012

Living in the Moment

Living in the Moment - Jason Mraz

It is so easy to get caught up in the yesterdays; wondering "if only I would have...", or picking at festering regrets in that achy spot just to the right of your heart, or contemplating "How did I get here?"

Or just as easily (although probably when you were younger) daydream about the possibilities of the future - from nudges in direction to visions of grandeur, losing yourself in the clouds to the point they are consuming.

But if you live for right now, the prize is right there ...is this moment.  Live in the now and discover the gems in every single opportunity whether good or bad. In this moment while you are reading this you are likely consumed in your screen, however there is a world of life to experience around you.  Take a moment to look up from your screen and explore the tree outside the window, feel the warmth of the sun, listen to the words of the song playing in the background, watch a mother lovingly tend to her child (if you are in Starbucks), or listen to the noises inside of you - you might learn a lot.

The beauty of this approach is that as soon as the experience of this moment is over, there is a whole new one to explore.

Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.
~Ferris Bueller

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Faces of Death




As I am entering my late 30s, I feel I am an anomaly in how relatively little death has crossed my path. Like most, I've survived the passing of aging grandparents and of acquaintances whom I have not seen nor spoken to in years, but in my first 37 years I am blessed (for lack of a better word) to have never lost someone who has been an integral part of my daily life. Others close to me have certainly experienced death intimately and I have tasted the breadth and depth of its impact upon them, but I have been limited to that vicarious perspective of how the grief of death can touch us all.

However, I have new perspetive on death, mortality and grieving as my family and I have been touched by death three times in the last two months. In as much as each of these deaths have similarities that come with a conclusion of life and the strong emotions that follow, each of these deaths are just as much remarkably different in the conditions of the death, the life story of the deceased, and the impact to those left behind.

The first of the three stories sounds more like the teaser of an episode of Dateline that was literally ripped from the headlines of a small town about 40 miles away. After dropping off her son at school one morning, a 25 year old woman disappeared. Two days later her car was found burned in field with no signs of her inside. By the weekend, her body was found in the home of a family friend after a nearly 24-hour standoff with police and, as expected, with much speculation. The story made news headlines across the state from the get-go, and she and her family were in the public eye in what was undoubtedly the most tragic time of their lives. The victim turned out to be the daughter-in-law of my daughter's 4th grade teacher. Being the small faith-based school that it is, the entire school community rallied around her and held vigil for the lost daughter-in-law. The affect on the students was profound as, through their beloved teacher the darkest faces of mankind, the very things from which we all hope to shelter them.

The second death to touch us was at the nearly opposite end of the spectrum. In her 90's, my wife's great aunt had been battling cancer for the last year of her otherwise healthy and full life. Her body slowly succumbed to the disease and with the support of family was able to place her affairs in order, address the impending end of her life, and discern some peace with her passing.

Then came Steph. Stephanie was a 33 year old mother of two with whom we shared in raising our kids, trained for races and vacationed for the last 4 years. She had been battling a rare form of breast cancer for the last 2 years with a vengeance and with a spirit that forced jaws to drop in awe. Despite being a penetrating energy of strength and hope that was palpable in any room she entered, she succumbed to the cancer knowing that she was leaving her 9 year old and 4 year old behind.

Wow, indeed. Amidst the overwhelming consumption of death and grief, of which I did not have deep experience, I was struck with the imbalanced wave of death we were facing in such a short amount of time. Death sets normal life into such a spin under usual circumstances, and here we were facing it three times within a narrow window. Of course, all three brought floods of emotion that would be considered seemingly usual; sorrow, disbelief, reflection, empathy, pain, peace, to just name a few. However, it was the differences between these three instances of death that caught me by surprise. It wasn't just that there were differences, but how breadth of how these experiences fell so widely across the spectrum that captured me.

The headline death was the least personal but the most shocking. Being 3 degrees removed and not having any personal relationship with the teacher's daughter-in-law, the grief felt was out of pure empathy - the pain, bewilderment and sheer sorrow that her family was suffering was unfathomable. My heart went out to my daughter's teacher and I offered my support, which while sincere was also with the understanding of how my relative distant relationship with family was great enough that it was unlikely I would be called upon. This death rocked our world, but mostly because of the sensationalism of the story, not because of any personal loss. Subsequent to our own pains we experience from a story like this comes the pain of watching the layers of innocence being stripped from your children. I'm not speaking of death itself, as death is an important and key component of all life that we can guide our children through in preparation of the many other losses they will experience throughout their lives. However, this death was wore a mask of some of the darkest faces of mankind that not only bring tragic grief, but challenge them with issues of trust, safety, and faith in humanity. These are struggles from which we hope to shelter our children so they can navigate thier childhood without fear.

Shocking.
Empathy.
Tragic.
Fear.

The emotions of the great aunt's death did not differ in the level of emotion, however the range of those emotions were drastically different. There was sadness surrounding her death, but none of tragedy or unfairness of the first story. She lived a long life - which is an interesting statement in and of itself. We tend to carry an assumption that having lived a long life makes death justified and therefore more bearable. Her death was relatively textbook and uneventful - starting with a diagnosis, moderate amount of treatment and then a resignation into a predictable path of her life concluding. She struggled with her mortality but I believe she was able to navigate it to a point before her passing with the guidance of her hospice nurse and my mother-in-law, who was by her side for the last 3 weeks of her life. The news that she had finally passed was met with a head bow and a nod in acknowledgement that the inevitable had finally come and she was now at peace. With it also came a sense of relief for my mother-in-law who placed her life on hold to sit with her aunt during her final days and provide for her until the end. It was equally painful to watch my mother-in-law endure this as it was to understand her aunt's struggles with facing death.

Peaceful.
Reflective.
Empathy - for more than just the deceased.
Just.

Stephanie's death was not headline news however, although predictable, it was horrifically tragic. Without intending on contrasting the grief felt among these three deaths, Steph's death broke my heart. The path of her journey that moved from fear of a diagnosis, to hope of treatment, to exhaustive disappointment, to acceptance that death was likely, through death being imminent was a natural course occurring over a two year span. I would have thought that this seemingly gentle progression of the disease and her prognosis would have tempered the degree of the tragedy. There was time to prepare emotionally, say goodbyes, and try to find some peace in the sadness of it all. However, the tragedy was nonetheless tremendous and consuming. The tragedy was not from shock of the news or the circumstances of it, but tragedy was defined simply because of the implication of her death. First and foremost, she was leaving behind her children. Her 9 year old daughter is just at the age where she can start to understand the concepts and finality of death and the fear of not having her mother in her life will consume her. The youngest only knows that he misses her and doesn't understand why she is not there, however his 4 year old brain is only capable of holding on to the memories of his mother for a brief time. Eventually, his mother will be come a collection of mere stories and anecdotes to him rather than memories. Secondly, in as much as the great aunt's death is more tolerable because she was in her 90s, Stephanie's death is that much more intolerable because she was in her 30s. She had a lot of life in her and a lot of living left to give her family, friends, herself and this world. Losing her at the age 33 was a travesty.

Heartbreaking.
Consuming.
Game changing.
Unfair.

Under the single umbrella of death came three very different experiences - so differing that it is at times unrecognizable that we are talking about the same passage of life. It is representative of the unlimited paths a life can follow and stories that can be written. From birth to death, a life can be neither planned nor predicted and even seemingly similar experiences can differ drastically from neighbor to neighbor. Lives on similar paths will have varying details. The details of those lives will bring on varying experiences. And equally, those experiences will bring varying effects upon each individual who is touched by it.

Solemn.
Thoughtful.
Reflective.
Blessed.

Saturday, November 3, 2012

What I found while digging through my Facebook

Remember a few years back when Facebook was new and novel? In 2009, there was a call to action for all FB users to post "25 random things about them".  Reading these 3 years later, I find it interesting how much many of these hold true.

Note: this is verbatim original text, except for one comment removed out of respect for my wife.

Enjoy the rerun:

1. Kalyne and I have been together for more than half of our lives.

2. I like to do things for people without them knowing it was me or evening knowing that it was done.

3. My girls amaze me. I am so excited to watch them grow but wouldn't dare wish for it to not happen too quickly. The world is a better place because they are in it.

4. I grew up in a fairly conservative Jewish household; I was bar mitzvah’d, kept kosher (didn’t eat a cheeseburger until I was in high school), can still read Hebrew, and can tell the hell out of the Channukah story to a kindergarten class. 

5. Kalyne’s brother once took me to his high school English class as a “Jew” show and tell. His class was reading Diary of Anne Frank and when the sheltered Idahoans started asking questions about Judaism (not really a very strong Jewish community in Pocatello), Benjy raised his hand and said “I know a Jew.” Best question from one of the students: “Why are Jews so greedy?” Ahhh, silly sheltered closed-minded future Klansmen of South Eastern Idaho - so charming.

6. Most people wouldn’t guess the quantity and size of the tattoos I have.

7. I race a stock car (1989 Honda Prelude) at the local race track with three of my brother-friends. Look for 4 Brother Racing team to break into NASCAR in 2012.

8. I was Pre-Med in college and my first career was an EMT - from which I burned out by age 25.

9. I didn't graduate college until I was almost 30 and neither the completion of my degree nor my age when I finished it has had any impact on my professional career in the slightest thus far. I’ve achieved more by honing in on my bullshitting skills and learning when to shut up and nod - It is how I transitioned from gurney jockey to instructional designer consultant (without any formal ID training) to a senior program manager at a Fortune 50 company.

10. That said, I am seriously contemplating getting my MBA. 

11. I play piano – but I only play for myself. I don’t even like to play when the girls are home.

12. Olives taste like dirt. 

13. Kalyne and I agree on nearly everything… except movies, music and the aforementioned olives. 

14. I have some regrets about my college career choices and wish I had taken more advantage of the opportunities and freedoms available to me at that time, however I have a pretty fantastic life so I don't pine too heavily. 

15. Surfing is my sanctuary – not necessarily my only sanctuary, but a reliable one. It is a shame that I can't get out as much as I used to. It is cathartic, zen and grounding for me… and therefore keeps Kalyne from calling me words that rhyme with “Lucky Grass-bowl”. 

16. Now that we have lived in Santa Cruz for the last 8 years, living away from the ocean is a deal-breaker for me. 

17. I would love to someday build a house with my own hands. 

18. I’ve thought about running for public office but wouldn't dare do that to my family. 

19. Lip smacking/licking sounds are like nails on a chalkboard to me, which doesn't bode well for my girls when they are eating dinner or when my dogs have an itchy asshole. 

20. I believe in karma

21. “Terrible-Twos” is a farce; they aren’t so bad. “Throttle-Me Threes” makes me contemplate becoming a cutter. 

22. Kalyne says I was born to teach…and I can’t say I disagree. I expect I will someday be Professor Jay.

23. I am humbled and thankful for my amazing wife as my partner every single dingle day. 

24. Sometimes I think I am really fucking funny.

25. A perfect day would be:
  • Waking up when my body is done sleeping – not when someone/something else decides its time to wake up
  • Big meat-filled breakfast with kickass coffee, sitting with the girls in their PJ’s
  • Going for a two-hour surf session on a clean, head-high, southwestern swell day (70 degree air temp)
  • Take a long shower
  • Family head out for a fun beachside lunch or maybe Betty’s (if you haven’t yet, gotta try Betty’s Burgers on Seabright in Santa Cruz)
  • Go on an adventure with the fam
  • Come home to a Publisher’s Clearinghouse sweepstakes van at my front door
  • Delicious dinner for two with Kalyne
  • Meet some friends for a few drinks
  • Go home for some romance: candles, featherbed and a mountain of cocaine… just checking to see if you are still paying attention.

Monday, October 29, 2012

Its all about me


Upon my deathbed, I will reflect back on the year prior to my first blog post as a pivotal point that changed the manner in which I live and view life going forward.  Not that there wont be more... in fact I welcome more, but 2010-11 is a sure-thin, locked-in chapter in my memoirs despite any of the adventures of the next 50+ years. Understandably, I emerged from that year with fresh eyes of the ways of the world and a deeper understanding my psyche.  Mysteries unraveled and the story of my life thus far made more sense.  I started to better understand not only who I am, but what makes me tick. Exciting and scary at the same time. Blissful ignorance certainly has its benefits too - e.g. it is easier to fall asleep at night if you aren't knocking on every locked psychological door that shows up once the room gets quiet.

With my new found "authenticity goggles", these flashes of undeniable brilliance needed to be shared.  I felt  a moral obligation to bestow these never-before-realized strokes of ingeniousness upon each and every one of my nearly six followers. We all have our callings to this world, and this was to be mine. FOR THE GREATER GOOD OF HUMANKIND!!!

... yeah, I know.  I don't buy it either.

Of course, there was a stroke of self-service in there too. I had always had an itch to write. I just never found the motivation, the platform nor the patience to make it a reality prior to this.  So under the guise of the focus of this blog being "others", I was scratching my own itch. Indeed, it was all about me.  And not that there is anything wrong with that - we should all pursue our passions, but perhaps I was fooling myself of the otherwise.

[Hold tight, I'm about to change lanes here without signaling]
Speaking of "Its all about me", I find it an interesting premise in and of itself.  Most commonly, this phrase has a negative connotation - inferring that someone is only concerned with their own best interests. It depicts narcissism and self-absorption, and ultimately portrays that person as somewhat of an asshole. It is easy to nod to ourselves and say "oh yeah, I know people like that", but truthfully this term has applied to each and every one of us at one time or another. It's ok... no judgement here.

However, there is another face of "its all about me" that isn't condemning, but rather a perspective about how we view interactions with others that can be clarifying and settling, yet empowering.  The tricky part of this outlook is that it requires tearing down your protective walls, perhaps walls you haven't even realized you have constructed, and requires a self-effacing honesty with yourself. Yikes.

You see, it IS all about me. Those usually negative things that I attribute to others usually have nothing to do with them at all. Picture a dear loved one - spouse, significant other, close family member, friend... generally anyone that you love wholeheartedly and then of course has the potential to push a button in you with little more than a pinky twitch. Imagine a casual conversation ensues about any poignant yet non-confrontational topic of your choice.  Then comes the "pinky twitch".  Perhaps it was a comment that you perceive as criticism.  Maybe it is tone of voice that sends you reeling or an action that makes you feel like the other person is uninterested.  Or even a non-action where you expected a response that you didn't receive.  Or maybe it was as benign as an eyebrow raised that made you say "what the hell is THAT supposed to mean?"

I know you can relate.  I have yet to meet anyone who is impervious to being triggered by a loved one.  And of course it is by a loved one, because if it were a casual acquaintance, you probably wouldn't care enough or have enough invested in their opinions to be affected.

Here is the deal... those actions (or non-actions, as they may be) have nothing to do with the other person. Consider that your loved one may have that exact same response to another friend without recourse. However, you have this festering hotspot deep within you that flares up when that loved clips one of those triggers.  It is all about YOU and your hotspots. That head tilt and doubting eyebrow raise that your spouse unknowingly injects into a conversation may be perceived as charming and interested by a third party... maybe even considered flirty and "kind of cute the way she tilts her head." However, when you receive the same gesture, you seethe. If you even recognize what it was that just shifted in you at that moment (sometimes it is a vibe you pick up that you don't even put words to), your internal narrator walks out on stage under a single spotlight and says "I HATE it when she does that. She KNOWS that irks me and yet she did it anyway."

But this is where it is the "You-ness" that is the object.  It has nothing to do with her eyebrow raise or he cutting you off mid-sentence.  It is you with the trigger just sitting there like a stubbed toe waiting to be grazed. As much as you would like to believe, your loved one is not trigger hunting with a bow and arrow (hopefully).  Now your response when your trigger is hit may spark something else in your loved one that subconsciously feeds some quest for power that they struggle with, but my psychology degree expired last week so I'll just leave this with my own observations.

I've spent some time watching my triggers and paying attention to what they say about me.  And what they say about me is volumes more than what they say about the trigger poker.  Being aware of them does not necessarily mean that I am impervious to them, but it is insightful into who I am at the core and is really a much more peaceful process in resolving any angst that comes from them.  This approach inherently removes blame from the equation because unless your  responses to your triggers self loathing, you will mostly likely come to your own defense and resolve the anger much faster than if you throw screams of disdain telepathically towards the "offender".

Give it a try the next time your buttons are pushed.  Take the offender out of the equation and ask "why does that piss me off so quickly?" or even "how come I have this stubbed toe that wont seem to heal?" Since it IS all about you... run with that concept and make it even more about YOU.