Beauty is what the heart sees

Author's note ~ In writing one of my most recent blogs "Who...AM...I?", I observed and commented upon our sense of "self-identification." I tried to present concepts to chew on pertaining to how we incorporate certain "things" and ideals into our lives to either feel “greater-than or less-than.” Amazingly, I omitted a facet of that discussion I encounter quite frequently. It’s my job. The subject is "beauty." My personal interpretation and attachment to this subject has changed over the years. My exposure to this subject and those seeking it has broadened my perspective not only on the subject itself, but those in a perpetual quest to obtain it.

I am a beauty professional by trade. I used to think that made me an “expert” on the subject. I won't bore you with my credentials or my resume' as I find them no longer applicable.



For years, a quarter century to be exact, I have travelled the globe sharing and acquiring knowledge on this subject to be a sought after beauty guru. Yes, I have done TV, worked with celebrities, and have my work featured in magazines. Again, these are dusty trophies of a man who has been blessed with a new perspective.


Beauty is an opinion

As a long time participant in trend releases and magazine spreads depicting what the masses should consider beauty, I now find an ironic humor in this. In my quest to help extinguish the burn of insecurities injected into public by my own images, I found I was often raising the bar all the while trying to boost my clients to help reach it. It was like trying to get somewhere by walking down the up escalator.


Hopping in the way-back machine we find many trends that were presented to and entertained by the public. For example:


In the days of Cleopatra, hair was colored with ground minerals and plants, permed with ingredients ranging from dirt to dung, and others at times had their subjects' heads shaved to not overshadow the royals in their beauty.


In the days of Marie Antoinette, the huge high-rise hair styles we see in paintings were obtained by cutting the hair of slaves and attaching them to the aristocrats with a concoction using lard.

In some time periods and cultures, obesity is sought after as it shows a well-fed life of leisure. The Rubinesque curvy women of earlier centuries were a sought after companion. Jenny Craig would have been a heretic.

Nudity in some countries is the dress code.

If beauty was not an opinion, often keeping designers, trainers, and therapists employed, we would not be burdened with what the latest new anything is. The standard would be health, acceptance, and function. No more women's magazines with the heft of a Los Angeles phone directory clogging our mail slots in the fall.


Beauty is a facade.

I really, really, admire women. I truly do. Outside of a Photoshop master, is any collective group worthy of respect for their deceptive prowess? Let's start at the top and work downward...

Hair - Cut, colored, Permed, lengthened with extensions. Teased, moussed, sprayed, pinned, and secured.

Eyelashes - Tinted, thickened, lengthened

Makeup, Botox, Restlyne, fillers, and micro-demabrasion.


(We are just getting to the neck!)


Spray Tan. Tanning bed. Sunshine.

Breast augmentation, reduction, push up bras.

Tummy tuck, liposuction, creams, oils, and ointments, and we can't forget Spanx.

Thighs - See lipo and Spanx

Calves - High heels

Feet - polish and pedi

Hands - Can't get a pedi without a mani.

I have seen almost all these on one woman, and this does not even include the wardrobe selection.

Now I can appreciate all this effort and can also enjoy the visual appeal. I am a man you know. What is interesting though, is that somewhere down the line, someone, or a group instilled the idea that we were not good enough in our original form. Our age becomes a curse as our normal natural progression that allows us to become wise, become parents, and to expand our experiences in the world and the related nicks and scratches make us become "lesser than." Is an octogenarian any less beautiful than an adolescent?

I admit I like being a man. I just have to shower, use some deodorant and toothpaste, and a comb, and we are just as good on our wedding day as we are on our day off. I will also admit I will wait until the ladies leave the room until I exhale and let my gut relax.

Beauty to me is who we are or how we would feel in a lightless world. I have always said: "Everyone is a dimmer switch away from being a 'ten'." I feel sad when people use the benchmark of "beauty" when feeling whether or not they deserve love, companionship, or affection. Maybe the trends change each season because not enough people are buying it. Maybe people are smarter than they are given credit. I think they are.

I have always tried to help people achieve a harmonious balance between function and fashion. Our beauty regimen should be an ongoing and expanding appreciation of the necessary restoration that allows us to be happy with ourselves today. It is okay if this changes frequently. What we see on the outside is only the wrapping on the gift.

Beauty is what the hearts sees.

Never dismiss the hearts connection to what it finds as beautiful. True beauty doesn't concern itself with acknowledging weight, age, labels, or logos. Beauty is what we feel when we warm in the presence of something. We stare, we desire, we connect. Why? Often we do not know.

The ability to see beauty first in ourselves allows us to see it around us and in others. Beauty is love that sees beyond the surface. It is the magnetism without reason and bond without boundary.

If beauty were only visual, are the blind capable of its appreciation? Of course.

True beauty cannot be trimmed, Botoxed, or squeezed into jeans. It has no age, gender, nor is it a number on a scale. Beauty is a divine gift given to us by our Creator to be enjoyed without challenge.

Beauty can be found in all things tainted only by negative reflection.


Beauty is an opinion - make yours positive.

Beauty can be a facade - go deeper to appreciate the true beauty.

Beauty is what the heart sees, may yours have 20/20 vision.

Repost from ~ Artisan of the Human Spirit by Tony Anders

P.S. Here is a good VIDEO supporting some of my points.

Who...AM...I?

Ever asked a kid who they are? Aside from the standard response of their name, you will also get a variety of responses being “My name is (insert name here) and...


“I can tie my shoes!”

“I can go pee-pee on the potty!”

“I have Spiderman shoes!”

“I am a cub scout!”

“I am four years old!”


Ask a teen to young adult and the response also expands beyond the name.

“Oh that is Brittany, she is a cheerleader!”

“My name is Doug, I am captain of the football team!”

“That is Jill, she is valedictorian!”

“Yeah, I think I have heard of him, he goes to Ohio State.”

“Doesn’t she own the blue Mercedes?”


As Adults:

“Wow, you are having lunch with him? Isn’t he the bank president?”

“That’s Darlene. She has twins and is married to the famous baseball player.”

“Don’t you know who I am, I could own you!!”

“How can I go to jail? It will ruin my reputation!”

“They are nothing. They don’t even have a full membership to the club.”


As we age:

“That is my son. He is the City commissioner.”

“I am the ex-CEO of such-and-such industries.”

“I am grandpa to seven wonderful kids.”


I guess I reflect upon this as I pondered for a moment on asking myself: “Who am I?”

I often times find myself trying to make this personal reconciliation when something changes in my life. At times it is also when I am trying to become okay with the fact of where I may presently be in my own personal timeline. Maybe I should be somewhere else. Maybe someONE else. Is what I am doing a good testimony to who I am supposed to be? My identity. What is this thing called identity anyhow? Why is it our name, our identity has to have some sort of subscript attached to it?

As I started to dig a bit deeper, I started to realize that for me to get to the bottom of my query I had to do a couple things. One was to separate my circumstances from what I call my identity. I quickly learned that I am not what my circumstances dictate. The most hurtful thing we can do is to attach our circumstances to a personal opinion of ourselves. Often these labels occur in crises such as financial difficulty, relationship squabbles, affliction and addiction, loss of property, separation from groups or people we care for.

In the past I would attach a negative label upon myself due to the addition or subtraction of one of the above mention categories. Who I am, the me deep inside does not have to change because of an endeavor, poor choice, good choice, or circumstance I found myself in. Bad circumstances do not make me a bad person any more than going to a football game makes me a quarterback.

So it stands, I am not what I do.

I also realize that things can come and go. In these recent economic times, many have been humbled by the realization that nothing, especially toys and money last forever. Sometimes one of life’s best lessons can be to lose some-things we worship. I realize that if I used to drive a Mercedes, and now drive a Chevy compact, I am no less a person. Should one think this to the contrary, explain to me how you may justify one’s “human stock” dropping after a hurricane because their belongings are destroyed. It doesn’t. Often their best assets surface.

I am not what I have.

I have time on my hands. I write a lot. I also get time to play. I do not have the time to try to manipulate nor adapt to what others think of me. I can live the life I believe I am supposed to. I can try to live on the greater side of good. I seek compassion and connection. If you don’t find any favor in that. So be it. I don’t have time to try to make you like me. Does my worth really grow if you do? I would rather be alone for the right reasons, than famous for the wrong ones.

I am not what others think of me.

In deep contemplation of “who I am”, I find it hard to explain. The moment I try to explain it, I label myself. Am I a Dad, husband, business owner, swell guy, martial artist, reiki practitioner, and foodie? Yes– by activity or practice, but it is who I am inside that allows me to connect to those things collectively. Who I am makes me seek them out, or try to be the best at those things, and yet, if those things change, who I am necessarily may not.

I find “who I am” is found in the space between. My identity goes beyond my name which was given to me without my consent (not that I dislike it). My identity is not tainted by opinions including my own. It is the music without sound and the light yet without luminescence. It is ethereal, nebulous, and spiritual. It is the part of me that doesn’t need a compass to know where my true North is.

Who I am is the part of me that I would be with no one around. It is the part of me who I would want to share with my most cherished loved ones. It is the me I long for, when who I “think” I am or should be is most present in the room. It is who I know I want to be. It is who I am okay with.

The “I” I seek is where I find peace. It is where I know. Where things seem correct. Struggle stops. No outside appreciation is necessary. It is from that peace and awareness I become most radiant, and therefore I end up becoming what my ego most often wanted me to become, just now with the substance to back it, but the humility to not need the adoration. I am a sum of my experiences. I am the recipe of myself that has no ingredients. Empty yet full.

I guess what I have found is that no matter the onslaught, and inversely the joys, I am still the same being. I am I.

I am not a title, hood ornament, number on a W-2, position, label on clothing, your opinion or mine, I am who I am supposed to be, and for once I really, really feel okay with that. No matter what I gain – I am the same guy. No matter what I lose – I am the same guy. If you love me – I am the same guy. If you hate me – I don’t care.

If you ask me who I am, my name is Tony. My identity is not my name and the labels past and present that may be pinned to it. Who I am is somewhere inside, protected and flourishing. I hope the real “me” gets to meet the real “you” someday.

 
 
The name will have to do for now...
 
 
 
Repost from Artisan of the Human Spirit

Grasshopper Thoughts, Vol. I July 2010

Photo courtesy of
http://www.blm.gov/

It's that time again. Time to clean out the great big barn of my brain and release some grasshopper thoughts. Today, for some reason, the tangent went off towards food related thoughts, so that's what I'm writing about.

Photo courtesy of
Bing images

I live in the southern United States - Tennessee, to be specific. There are a great many culinary delights that are unique to our region, with one of them being sweet tea. Jug or table wine is another term you'll hear. Sun tea is a slightly different version, but for the most part, we make sweet tea here. Very sweet tea. I'm not a huge fan of the super sweet taste, but the grasshopper thought here is that I learned a few years ago that outside of the southern U.S., tea is rarely sweet. Picture my reaction one of stunned surprise. Okay, I was more than stunned; perhaps I went beyond surprised stare to flat out goggle. I hadn't heard of this fact and it just surprised me. Most restaurants in the south offer both sweet and unsweetened tea, but I didn't know that outside of the southern states, tea is normally served unsweetened. How 'bout that.

*Photo courtesy of
http://www.latestbuy.com/

This, then, led me onward to other food related grasshopper thoughts with the next one being cereal and the Great Soggy vs. Crunchy Debate. I cannot abide soggy cereal. I prefer it crunchy with ice cold milk. Soggy cereal looks like....well, I won't go into gory detail about what it looks like to my eyes. Suffice to say, it looks like something absolutely nasty and it tastes and feels just as bad. As in gag-inducing bad. I'm sure there are many of you out there who will disagree with me and wave the soggy cereal flag enthusiastically. There will remain a Great Divide between us, but a friendly one!

Photo courtesy of
http://www.en.petitchef.com/

Who made the decision that burnt cheese is a culinary error? No, no, no! That's the best part! Not burned to charcoal, mind you, but a nice golden, toasty cheesey crust...mmm, yes indeedy. This does not, however, apply to popcorn. Unless you're my Mom. She loves it. Just barely burnt microwave popcorn makes her a happy soul. Go figure.

Popsicle sticks - you know how most people almost hit the ceiling when they hear fingernails on a chalkboard? The sound of fingernails down a chalkboard doesn't bother me in the slightest. A popsicle stick hitting my teeth, however, well....let's just say it is highly unpleasant. It produces a repetitive wave of shudders similar to the timpani of a cymbal on the eardrum, only the waves are repeating on my teeth. I'm still a fan of popsicles, don't get me wrong. Banana flavor is my favorite. I just take care to keep the popsicle stick from hitting my teeth.

Photo courtesy of
http://www.faqs.org/

Moving on to cosmetics, I have a particular aversion and peeve. It applies to lipstick or lip gloss w/ cheap candy scent/flavor. Some cosmetic companies - some of the very high end ones, in fact - use horrid candy flavors such a cotton candy, sugar, vanilla and wedding cake paired with equally horrid, fake scents. The combination can bring on an instant headache, and make people around you ask who brought cupcakes to work. At the very least, manufacturers could post one of those Surgeon General Warning labels on lipstick and lip glosses containing vile scents and flavors to alert the innocent consumers. If they have to slap flavor and scent into lipstick and lip gloss, I prefer it to not be one that fights with my whole immediate environment and my palate. Since it's my blog post and my version of my own mystical CosmeticLand, I arbitrarily declare that a minty flavor/scent rules the day. "Off w/ your head!" is the secondary declaration should you choose to dissent this mandate and slap those fake, cheap flavors and scents in cosmetics! Aren't you glad this is a mythical, mystical land?! Heads would be rolling left and right if it were real.

These are the grasshopper thoughts that consumed my mind for, oh...a good 2.83 seconds, I would guess. Writing it all down took longer, but it did open the barn in my brain and allowed the grasshoppers freedom for a wee bit. I have no idea what next month's grasshopper thought might be, so stay tuned!
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*Disclaimer:  No monetary gain has been made from posting the cereal bowl above and mentioning the website where it can be purchased.
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If you enjoyed this post and would like to read more, you can find me at Healing Morning blog.

Water and Forgiveness

The Loy Krathong song begins, “In the twelfth month on the full moon…”
By the Western calendar, the festival actually takes place in November, but by the Thai lunar calendar it’s the twelfth month. Not only are the months counted differently, but here in the village it’s actually 2542, since the original Year of the Buddha occurred 500 years before the first Year of Our Lord. I feel as if I’m a time traveler who has been transported 500 years into the future.
Loy Krathong is the second-most important celebration on the Thai calendar, and this presumably means the village will go all out. But when the celebration begins, I’m surprised at the dignity and restraint of the celebration. Unlike the prolonged and frenzied partying of the Songkran holiday, this harvest festival chiefly involves launching floating candles across the water to carry our sins away. No Las Vegas-like stage shows, no throbbing outdoor movies, no wobbly carnival rides.
Instead, after dark, we carry our modest krathongs (floats made of banana leaves and bearing flowers, candles and incense sticks) down to the village reservoir. The vast, placid reservoir is already fringed with flickering krathongs, which are bobbing near the shores from which villagers have launched them. It’s a windless night, so not many of the village’s sins have floated out into the middle, except where villagers are splashing and making waves to send them on their way.

Floating our boats of sin away is actually only one of several explanations I’ve heard about this festival. I’ve also been told that the festival involves giving thanks for the rains that irrigate the paddy fields. And in a combination of those two strains—expressing gratitude for the rains and asking forgiveness for sins--I’ve heard we are specifically asking pardon from the water gods for polluting the water. That’s a tad ironic, since the festival involves littering the waters with dozens of krathongs, some of which have come to include Styrofoam.
Still, it’s undeniably a lovely sight when the rivers and lakes of Thailand become oceans of flowers and fire this one night of the year. Perhaps the most spectacular celebration takes place in the ancient city of Sukothai, but the nearby Mekong River becomes a stream of candlelight as well.
But for this festival, the village has plenty of water and floating beauty. And of all the different explanations I’ve been given for Loy Krathong, it’s the asking-for-forgiveness explanation that I like the best. For me, this makes the ritual of Loy Krathong something like a sacrament, a visible expression of God conferring invisible grace. Or, as one definition says, “a rite in which God is uniquely active.” Amen to that. So I silently ask Jesus to forgive my sins before launching my krathong. My Buddhist friend, Maliwan, is crouched beside me, and she pauses before launching her krathong as well. “Now,” she murmurs, “we pray.” She bows her head. Our candles burn with remorse, our incense sticks send up a fragrant plea for forgiveness. Our sins set sail softly, sadly, but when our sin and regret stall a few feet from shore, we smack energetically at the water, sending the floats outward on concentric ripples of water. All my students are milling around, exchanging greetings and smiles. The whole village is out, and the feeling of a fresh start is in the air. It’s a beautiful sight, as dozens of candles flicker on the dark water.
Later, three of us from the village straddle a single motorcycle and ride to Ban Dung, where a krathong contest is being judged. Here is the lavish celebration I have grown to expect in Thailand. These krathongs are not modest—they are huge and elaborate, constructed of hundreds of tightly woven banana leaves, sculpted into royal birds and royal palaces and bedecked with festive lights.
But not only are the floating beauties of the water being judged—local beauties of the human variety are also competing for a crown. Beauty contests are another feature of Loy Krathong, and one young woman after another parades across the stage. As she crosses, pauses, and twirls, each woman’s measurements are pronounced over the loudspeakers to fervent applause.
Also posted on Strange Islands

Independently dependent

As I scratch the mosquito bites on my ankle once again, I continue to reflect on their source.


(*Side note: “OFF” only makes you sticky, smell like old lady perfume and weed killer, and does not work! – Author’s Opinion)

Recently, one of my favorite holidays has become the observation of Independence Day; July 4th to be exact. In the good old U.S. of A. we gather with food, fun, and fellowship and a robust celebration. Often involving block parties, parades, and potlucks; we gather, we cheer, and we bond.

The highlight of the festivities reaches apogee at the onset of dusk, as fireworks both public and private light the night sky. A friend observed how ironic it is that we celebrate our independence by simulating a war. It is kind of like celebrating weight loss by dressing up as a Twinkie. Interesting.

I still love the entire kit and kaboodle though. As I started the day, I enjoyed the walk up the street to the parade route. The parade in our community is quite the spectacle. It is a continual string of our veterans, local schools, cub scouts and cheerleaders, musical performances, floats, and a colorful mix of pretty much anything with legs and wheels. There is also a lot of red, white, and blue to be seen as well.

The day starts with a friends’ house becoming the hub of activity among our circle of friends, some close, some on the distant social fringe. People share the most precious gifts with one another: the company of their loved ones, recipes passed down from the matriarchs in their family, their time, their joy.

As the day progressed, people dispersed for power naps, other festive obligations, and simple leisurely reclining in the shade somewhere. The celebration is lengthy, so one may need to recharge at some point; some more so than others if inspired by an abundance of Bloody Marys.

In my down time and leading into the evening’s festivities I reflected on my observation of Independence Day. I am independent, but I am also dependent.

Truly I am thankful for the ongoing efforts of those who allow me the right to live as I do, where I do, and to not be living among rubble, oppression, and flying ordnance. In the grand scheme of things, as the universe blew on the proverbial Dandelion seeds allowing them to fly then land as they may, I am so thankful, I took root where I did. But I also looked at what nourishes me; what I am dependent on.

Now I am not talking “dependent” as if my life would be “lesser” without them, or “who I am” is dependent on them, but the things that nourish my soul, and that which I am grateful for.

My loved ones. Not just the people in my gene pool, but my friends, my friend’s friends, and those I have yet to meet. As I swam in the sea of people celebrating patriotically, I realized, they are all my family, and I love them all, the Americans as well as those enjoying the fruits of our land.

I have always believed Norman Rockwell had a hand in developing the community where we live. I am blessed not only with the aesthetic beauty of my surroundings, but the care those who are my neighbors share. It is not as much prideful, but done out of love. It is lush, mature, and green. Parks are prolific, and the sense of community prevails year round. In retrospect, I realize I have been able to find these qualities in many of the places I have lived if I take the inventory with the proper perspective.

My ability to become. Not just to “be” but “become” is what I am also thankful for. Opportunity flourishes in the absence of oppression, and for those keeping watch at the door, I salute you. I admire that the greatest gift we often extend to others is a chance... even if it is a chance to fail. Some in this world are told who and what they will be from their first breath, and their path is paved for them. I would rather carve my own way through a jungle following my own hearts navigation, than to follow the blacktop laid down by another for me.

Collectively the fact that I can even share these thoughts with you, and that I could even expand into sharing my spiritual or religious views with anyone in a public forum is a monumental blessing in itself. With that, the fact that we could disagree, publically display our views, and display flags, colors, and icons of our choice is amazing in and of itself. Once again I profess my thanks to those who fight under our flag often times for the rights of those who do not always choose to observe it, and their right to that opinion.

I guess I have become dependent on these things, these principles. It is our independence that provides me with the ability to become dependent on them. I am thankful for both. I try to not let this sentiment be observed only once per year.

So eat, drink, and be merry fellow Americans and invited guests! Prepare your “Ooooo’s” and “Ahhhh’s” for the holiday’s pyrotechnic performances. Don’t forget to extend a little thanks, a nod, and a fist bump to those who helped you obtain the right to wear that goofy star-spangled outfit. Lastly, choose your insect repellant wisely!

Repost from Artisan of the Human Spirit



http://www.tonyanders.com/

Simple choices

Photo courtesy of
flickr.com

There is a lot of distress, sadness, worry and hopelessness going on in our world right now. The BP oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico is a daily focus of concern and frustration as the fallout affects our environment, ecosystems, marine, mammal and avian wildlife, and robs hardworking people of their livelihoods. This newest affront is striking our country already hard hit by a tumbling economy that has caused unemployment rates to soar, affecting millions of people across the nation.


Today I read a blog post of an online acquaintance who is in a very difficult situation and seems to be at wit's end. I have been there, more times than I would prefer to remember. I sat and reflected on these constant bombardments of challenging occurrences, wondering how in the world it is possible to reach out and make a difference. I feel frustration that I cannot help others who are struggling and feeling fear and hopelessness. While I realize that each person has a responsibility to address their own life and deal with their own struggles in an authentic manner, it is still difficult to see so much sadness in the world. I recognize that I have a duty to my own life and that the majority of my energies must focus on keeping my own house, physical and emotional health in good order.

Photo courtesy of
photo.net

None of this keeps my heart from being affected by the sadness that is sweeping the world. Do I have any widespread solutions to address that sadness? I wish I did. That would be any sane person's wish, to be able to make sweeping and positive changes and improvements to negative situations the world over.

Some days, the simple truth is that the best each of us can do is put one foot in front of the other. Choose to get out of bed today. Choose to get dressed and go through the process of searching for a job along with the millions of other unemployed U.S. citizens. Choose to find reasons to smile, despite overwhelming odds and concrete situations over which to feel concerns. Choose to seek uplifting experiences, however small they may be. Choose to reach out to someone else who might be fearful and struggling and offer them a kind word. Choose to find happiness in the midst of admittedly trying circumstances. Any single one of these choices can make a difference. Any single one of these choices could, quite possibly, cause an energetic shift in an individual's life and start the ball rolling. As most of us know, just getting forward momentum to happen is one of the biggest challenges when our life feels stuck in permanent limbo mode.

My life is no different. I am living with professional setbacks that have hit over and over due to the struggling economy. I am faced with daily challenges that try my patience and have me concerned about my own livelihood. I, too, struggle with fears and doubts about how to keep my own momentum moving forward. For me, what works is to step outside of my own situation and touch other lives. I do that here, at Healing Morning blog. I also do it with small gestures where I reach out to friends with phone calls and emails, encouraging and supporting them through their own dark days.

http://www.greenbeanscoffee.com/

Most recently, I stumbled across a wonderful website that has a program called Cup of Joe for a Joe that allows anyone to purchase a cup of coffee for a soldier in any branch of the Armed Services. It is a very simple process. Click on the website link under the photograph to the right to pull up their page. Scroll down a little bit and look on the right hand side of the page where it says Buy a Cup of Joe Now. In this window, you will see that you can purchase a single cup of coffee for $2 U.S., and the window will also give you the opportunity to purchase larger gifts, or even choose your own amount. I chose to purchase $30 worth of coffee gifts. This will purchase 15 cups of coffee for 15 soldiers. It was a stretch for my current financial situation, but it was a conscious choice I made.

Less than two days later, I began receiving email alerts telling me that my coffee gifts were being picked up. Some of the soldiers are writing very kind Thank You emails. Some of them are requesting to become email pen pals, and they are all based around the world at various installations. This was the small thing that I did this past week to lift my heart and help me feel that I could make a difference in the world. It might not be a huge thing, buying a cup of coffee for a soldier, but it made me happy to do it. Many of the emails I have received tell me that iced coffees and fruity smoothies are popular, along with some type of cappuchino drink that has enough caffeine shots in it to keep a bull elephant wired for a month! Every single email alert I have received has been full of sincere thanks from each soldier.

Photo courtesy of
flickr.com

I know from many friends who have served in the U.S. Armed Forces that many soldiers do not receive regular mail from home. This is something that I find troubling, and this was another motivation to send these Cup of Joe gifts. I want our soldiers to know that people back home do care and that we think of the hard work they do everyday, and that we appreciate the sacrifices they make to uphold the tenets upon which this country was founded. This is my small thing that helps me to feel hopeful in the face of difficult times. As I am able, I will send more Cup of Joe gifts and touch more soldiers' lives in this small way. Yes, I am unapologetically patriotic. Yes, I think it matters to reach out and support every soldier who is far from home. Now is not the time to debate politics and argue what is right and wrong about where U.S. troops are based. This blog post is meant to focus on a simple kindness that I think and know makes a small difference. I choose this action because it does touch lives and it makes me happy to do so.

For those of you who are interested, you can also follow the Cup of Joe program on Facebook, and also via Twitter with these links. I make it a habit to share the program on both social media forums in the hopes that friends and colleagues will decide to join the program and share it with their friends.

http://www.greenbeanscoffee.com/

Life is a series of challenges for all of us. It is the small moments in between that I believe add color, texture, depth, growth and beauty. For an avid coffee avoider - I really dislike the smell of coffee and prefer tea - I find it a bit ironic and entertaining that coffee is proving to be such a thing of beauty in this manner. The Cup of Joe for a Joe program is my simple choice and I find it satisfying that through my eyes, it produces beauty and hope. That, for today, is enough to encourage me to continue.
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If you enjoyed this post and would like to read more, you can find me at Healing Morning blog.

Lessons from a whiteboard

I have a whiteboard at work.

I inherited it from the break room area in the old building when we moved off-campus.

Interns used to doodle on it; the office manager would sometimes write important dates; and the staff used it as a backrest when conversing over a cup of coffee.

It was a big, blank white board. No grids. No columns. No definition of any sort.

Do what you will with it.

Most engineers I know use their white boards to think things through -- make diagrams and complex flow charts; write out bits and bytes of information; create mock motherboards; and leave each other nerdy messages.

Well, I'm no left-brain type, so no inspiration there for me.

It sat in my office for two weeks before the facilities guys came and mounted it.

There it was -- a blank slate, staring at me.

I stared back equally blank.

I had never had a white board before, so I was really at a loss on how to make the best use of it.

I walked around the office -- other people had different versions: one had neat little squares where you could put dates and about two lines worth of data; another had graph-like grids; and yet another had columns.

Mine was just white.

I could do anything with it. I just didn't know what.

Then, two days after the board had been installed, I went into a meeting. Came out with some front burner assignments that I immediately started transferring on to post-its, stuck strategically around my monitor.

Halfway through this task, the bulb went on.

I had four markers -- blue, red, green and black...why not use them to transfer this information on to the whiteboard?

I wrote "On the burners for October" as my headline. And proceeded to write out the tasks tagged by deadlines.

The project name was in black; the task details in blue; the due date in red; and the completed date in green.

I had a system.

On the last day of the month, I took photos of the board, cleaned it until it squeaked and my office reeked of ethanol, and then filled it again with those three primary colors and black.

Colleagues and visitors were floored by my simple system. My manager thought it was ingenious. My office-mate tried to replicate it.

For all the gadgets I own, this wire-less piece of melamine was what I had begun to rely on to keep me organized and on track.

I've used this whiteboard for almost 10 months now and as I was wiping it clean this morning to begin another month of activities, I realized that this board is so effective because it allows me to live my professional life in manageable chunks.

There is no big picture stuff on there.

Just the one month.

Four weeks. 20 days. 160 hours.

That's all it encapsulates.

It dawned on me that this whiteboard is teaching me a valuable lesson: focus on bite-sized chunks of your life. Live it every day.

Yes, all those big life plans are great to have, but who knows what's in store for you tomorrow, let alone 10 years from now?

It's overwhelming to plan out an entire lifetime given the number of variables and unknowns in one's path. Not to say that some planning isn't good, but you will be able to inch your way to the long-term plans, only when you live your life fully today.

My big takeaway?

Make a wishlist, create some milestones, do what you can, and enjoy your present -- for there is no time like right now.

Also posted on my blog.