UPLIFT! -1
How I Helped Myself
I’m finding it difficult to publish what I haven’t written…:) Will get back to FLAWED GENIUS after I write more chapters. A revised UPLIFT follows. Preface and Chapters 1 and 2 in this post.
PREFACE
This is my "How I Helped My Self Book," an everyman's update of Scott Peck's "The Road Less Traveled." Peck's book, published in 1978, is widely considered a masterpiece and explores how we confront and explore problems. Reportedly, it has sold over ten million copies.
Most of us desire a better life, but how do we create one? Too often, my passion overrides common sense, turning stepping stones into hurdles and inviting chaos. Most of us learn from experience, and I am no exception. I repeat some experiences for the first or tenth time because I did not learn from them.
My father wanted me to look like the student council kids he saw at the Merry Go Round Restaurant in Evansville, Indiana. Did he look like their parents? Did he act like their parents? Not even close. My dad was a creative, flawed, near-genius who passionately resisted maturing. Throughout his life, he did what he wanted, hampered only by finances.
In his late twenties, he worked for his father and uncle in our family’s furniture store. When modern furniture and interior decorating took hold in the late 1940s, Dad redesigned the store's third floor into a then-futuristic group of model showrooms with 1950s rich, muted colors. His dress mirrored these colors.
By the mid-1960s, when I was in high school, Dad continued to dress the same way. He would wear a pale green crew neck mohair sweater with mustard slacks, matching socks, and dark green loafers set off with a subtly striped Fox Brothers sport coat. Everyday attire for Dad.
During high school, I came home in the afternoons. When Dad got up, we went to a nearby cafeteria for his breakfast and my afternoon meal. During this period, he worked at night writing big band jazz, designing Formula Five racing cars, or being a collectable stamp dealer. His work evolved over the years.
Dad was not alone in having his “Do As I Say, Not As I Do” moments. Did I learn from his request to be like the other kids? No, because the way he lived showed me a much different picture. My experience of his example was more meaningful to me than his words.
Why am I writing this collection of my experiences?” I learn when I write. It also makes me feel more alive, so I do it whenever possible. Occasionally, someone’s words highlight a step I'm about to take and prove helpful, setting the stage for an upcoming experience.
For myself, one element of learning is deciding what is useful and what is not. I hope you do the same.
Chapter One
ADVICE I EMBRACED
My Choice
Half a lifetime ago, my then-girlfriend changed my life. Jane and I sat in the kitchen in her San Francisco apartment, planning a winter trip to Mexico. I needed to be warm. I had just returned from visiting friends in the Midwest. Jane was about to quit her job to travel with me, hoping to find her art. As I sat looking across the white kitchen table at her, I felt she was the person I needed to be happy. Describing to her how I had felt trapped and fearful on my recent trip back to Illinois, I wallowed in the unpleasant feelings. She listened patiently, then said, "It feels like you like being unhappy. Happiness is a choice. If you do not choose to be happy, you never will be."
Jane was right—and her timing was terrific, for I was open to the truth. I found that I could choose to be happy. Jane made me aware that I can make this change in my life, though it has not proven easy. I will always be grateful to her for this experience alone—and we shared many other wonderful moments. We lived in Mexico for five months, returned to San Francisco, struggled through the summer, and finally decided we could not resolve our fundamental differences. I moved to Hawaii two months later, still seeking warmth.
Why could I take the step Jane offered me that day in her kitchen? And why is choosing happiness a constant challenge? Training and habit are my answers. In the previous few years, I had opened my awareness enough to see the truth Jane offered. I had trained myself to take that step. Training is a continual part of life if we are to learn and grow. We have many teachers, but we guide our training through our choices. Our ongoing choice is whether we take long, bumpy roads or direct paths.
What about habit? Is it your habit to grumble and focus on pain and misery? Many people like to commiserate. Negativity is easy, comforting, and self-perpetuating. Being downcast requires less effort than being upbeat. Both positive and negative choices gain momentum in their separate directions for me as I repeat them. And like so many ironies in my life, the choice which begins easy soon turns hard. How often have you avoided a difficult but constructive choice and found yourself later in a more stressful situation because you did not deal with your business earlier?
Making a positive choice that seems difficult initially usually becomes easier with practice. These choices have led me toward light and love. Choosing happiness is a daily opportunity.
Chapter Two
VALUE ALL EXPERIENCE
Yours Counts Most
My father stood in front of me in the living room. He held an unopened pack of Camels in one hand and a lit Benson & Hedges in the other. The ash was about to drop off his cigarette.
"Where did these come from?" he asked, not quite yelling. The Camels had dropped out of my coat pocket. I cursed my carelessness. As a teenager, I lied to my father to avoid his anger, working hard to keep stories straight and not do anything dumb—like letting cigarettes fall out of my pocket.
"Oh...ah...I'm just keeping them for Steve, you know. His parents would freak at the sight of cigarettes. I told Steve you wouldn't mind cigarettes being in the house."
Dad looked at me. He had caught me off guard. My lie was transparent. "Tell Steve I do mind. I don't want you smoking, son. It is a dumb, dumb habit. Got that?"
"Right. OK," I said, relaxing. He was not going to get mad. "Dumb habit, Dad."
Handing me the Camels, his cigarette ash fell onto the carpet. Then, he walked into the dining room, where he was working on his Formula Five body designs. I went down the hall to my room and fell on my bed, my heart pounding. Dad’s anger terrified me.
His actions on multiple occasions said, "Do as I say, not as I do." He seemed to have given up improving himself but wanted to make sure I did not make the mistakes he made.
What did I learn from this? I lost respect for him each time his words and actions did not match. Instinctively, I still wanted to be like him, even when I disliked what he did. Rarely did I learn from his experiences, clearly not as often as he wished.
Why not? Because they were his experiences. I might see the truth in what he—or anyone—says to me, but until I experience it myself, the truth remains distant, a belief at best. Believing is, for me, the way I shape my approach to the issues I have yet to experience. I have learned to open my mind and heart whenever I can and let it be.
I used to work hard to avoid painful experiences, which caused me more anguish. Repeating a painful loop before seeing the illusion I chased is a recurring theme. Then, I would peel back another veil of truth, seeing one layer deeper into myself and the world around me.
In the years since my father translated (died), I have gradually released my fear of his temper. Letting go of this fear and pain has helped me more fully experience other things—joyful or painful, happy or sad. Sometimes, welcoming takes a lot of work. I experience growth when I take risks—constructive risks.
What am I risking? Usually, I’m just leaving something behind—something that, painful or pleasurable, has become familiar and comfortable. Taking a step into the unknown can be scary but is always rewarding.
I learned many things from my father, including how best not to approach some situations. But nothing I witnessed had an impact until I had my own experiences.
I support each of us holding our counsel in high esteem. Learning from experiences is a key to happiness.
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