Fixin' To... (Potential v. Kenetic Pt.1)

We Okies have a saying: I'M FIXIN' TO... It's a great declaration. Something big is about to happen.

As juniors in high school our physics teacher introduced us to the concept of energy and its two forms: POTENTIAL and KINETIC. Mr. Hale placed a piece of chalk on a desk and said, "This is potential energy." The chalk just sat there. Then with his finger, he gave the chalk a nudge. "This," he said as it rolled off the desk and was in free-fall, "is kinetic energy." The correlation logged in my brain:

     kinetic energy = movement
     potential energy = just sits there
     potential can / kinetic does
     potential revs the engine / kinetic squeals the tires
     

Potential is... FIXIN TO... 

Here's a thought, huge potential gets less done (about zero) than a tiny bit of kinetic.

Human potential is fascinating to me. And unrealized, unrecognized, or underutilized potential is incredibly sad.  I've thought long about how to approach this subject. Frankly I decided to jump in somewhere in the middle and work my way out. It may take several posts, or I may fizzle. But at least there is POTENTIAL!

Energy is the ability to do work; or if you'll allow me - to do something.

A simple version of the Law of the Conservation of Energy states, Energy cannot be created nor destroyed. It can only be stored or transferred. This begs a question: Am I just storing up, or am I transferring?

So why the lesson on forms of energy? Because we can be fixin' to... for only so long.

Big Potential... but it must leave the launching pad!

I'm fixin' to go.
For now...
D

Living Lessons (pt.2) - UBER PERSPECTIVE

This is Salah. His thick accent informed me that my Uber was waiting outside baggage claim at Will Rogers in OKC.

I walked out the terminal doors and spotted the gold Chevy Malibu. I gave a hesitant I'm not sure if we'll understand each other so well wave. Salah took my suitcase and plopped it in the trunk. My backpack was still on my shoulder as I headed for the passenger door. "My friend, look at this trunk," he said while gesturing like a Price is Right model, "there is plenty of room." Now unencumbered, I settled in for the thirty minute ride. I didn't know that in a few moments I'd wish I had my journal from the backpack. I needed to be taking notes on Uber Perspective coming from the Living Lesson driving the gold Malibu.

After our 30 minute drive, I asked Salah if I could share a little of his story, fearing it might be dangerous for him or his family. With a huge smile - displaying many missing teeth, which you'll understand in a moment - he gave his wholehearted permission.

UBER PERSPECTIVE

If you ask Salah, he will say he is an Okie. As testimony, the Malibu radio is tuned to a local country station. He loves Oklahoma. "We Okies smile," he tells me. It's one of the things he cherishes about living here.

Salah is originally from Baghdad, Iraq and holds a degree in Mechanical Engineering. As the owner of an internet communications company he was asked by a friend to help out on a project. What Salah didn't know at the time was that his friend - along with four others - had been working with the US Army. Salah was asked to set up communications for a US Army base in Basra. He initially declined. "They will kill me," he said, speaking of the Iraqi militia and/or Al-Qaeda. Eventually he agreed to fly in, set up communications and immediately fly out.

He was so effective in doing the work that he was asked to stay. The man he affectionately calls "my Captain," said to him, "I have 700 soldiers here who need to talk to home; and it's Christmas. I need you." Salah stayed. For three years. He worked as a liaison, translator, technical expert, and in areas he couldn't say.

Salah has a wife and three children in Iraq. (They are still there, along with parents). He had been working with the US Army for over a year when he finally admitted to his wife his incredibly dangerous secret. Actually, the broken nose and multiple blown out teeth he suffered from a barrage of shells on the base forced his hand. "She cried all night," he said, "she feared I would be killed." Of the six - Salah and his five friends - he alone survived. His house was used for target practice several times and his car was bombed.

"My Captain" came through for Salah. He orchestrated getting him to America before he was killed. It was a long and arduous process. Salah is still working to get his wife and children the US; to become Okies. "My Captain" remains Salah's dear friend.

Salah drives Uber full time. He was recently laid off from his job with an oil field supplier in Oklahoma. "What do I have to complain about?" he quips. "I love this country, and I love Oklahoma. I have my life, I have a car, and a place to live. I have my family, and I hope to have them here with me soon."

Salah has seen things I hope never to see. He has lost more than I can imagine. He has sacrificed more than I ever could. Yet his smile is huge. I hope I can learn to smile as wide. I was humbled sitting next to the man with the Uber Perspective driving the gold Malibu.

(As I stated, I wish I'd had my journal as we drove. I've tried to be as accurate as possible; as you can imagine, there was a lot of information shared in a short time. Also, I've waited until Salah's latest trip to Iraq was complete before sharing.  It was my choice - not his request. He recently returned, and I owe him the promised lunch. This time I will have my journal.)

For now...

D

Living Lessons, pt.1 - A Lesson From the Shoe Shine Stand

Javier 

This is Javier. He has a shoe shine business in the Las Vegas Convention Center. Javier has shined shoes for 50 years. Javier is happy. Javier loves life. How do I know all this? I asked. (Though honestly, I really didn't need to.)

I sat down at the shoe shine stand because I could sit. Finally. Fitness trackers on two of my colleagues' phones logged the literal marathon distance we covered on foot in our few days in Vegas. So with a break in the action, I sat down at Javier's stand for a shoe shine; and received a lesson in living.

Javier was born in Mexico City. He loves his home country and he loves the US, his home of over 50 years. For those 50 years Javier has shined shoes, and lifted spirits. Some people are DRAGGERS and others are LIFTERS; in every interaction we have an opportunity to drag others down or lift them up. Javier is a LIFTER. He enjoys people. It is evident in his smile and in his words. I watched later in the day as two different men exited Javier's chair. Each shook his hand genuinely and talked for a few minutes - laughter, smiles and handshakes. I haven't received many shoe shines, but don't think this is normal protocol. It speaks to Javier's contagious attitude.

And there it is: ATTITUDE. Simply put, Javier's lesson is that life is what you make it. For you this is probably no major epiphany. I however, need the reminder. Many of our circumstances are not chosen. They are random and beyond our control. Yet what is never out of our control, is our opportunity and ability to respond. We alone control our attitude.

Volume upon volume has been written about attitude. The attitude to which I am referring - and what Javier lives - is much more than a "be-happy-attitude." His is a perspective, a worldview that is fundamentally positive. It is the way he chooses to view people, circumstances and the world around him. (Obviously I had an in-depth conversation with Javier. I'm not intuitive enough to have picked all this up between polish and buff).

Invictus is Latin, for unconquered. The person who chooses to never be a victim, no matter the circumstance, is unconquerable. External circumstances may not change. But the invictus perspective changes everything. And Javier is living, smiling proof.

William Henley's words have moved me from the first time I heard them. I would argue a couple of the specifics theologically. They speak powerfully however, of the will and attitude of the unconquered.

Until next time Javier, keep smiling, keep shining, keep LIFTING.

For now...
D

P.S. This is Salah. I can't wait to tell you his story!

Closet Reflections

I did something the other day that I really don't enjoy. I cleaned out my closet. Well, to be honest, I began what is proving to be a multi-step process. To say I don't enjoy it is may be misleading and an understatement. I've only done it twice in my adult life as can be attested by the Z-Cavaricci jeans and PePe jacket that were unearthed. (It's hard to throw out a perfectly good pair of Zumba pants.)

My four step process: 1) Dig. 2) Decide what is needed and why. 3) Throw out (or donate) what is unnecessary. 4) Reorganize with a plan.

My closet was pathetic. When my bedroom is presentable my closet takes the brunt. Not too long ago a friend looked in my closet. I was embarrassed to say the least. There was nothing horrible hidden in there, though I had a sneaking suspicion the Z-Cavariccis were lurking, ready to pounce. The chaos of my closet however, was unnerving.

So I decided to finally do something about it!

Like... stylin'

We need to clean out the closet from time to time. We need to take inventory. There are things in there that shouldn't be; remnants of the past that need to be gone. Some things in the closet are hidden and need to be uncovered. They are perfectly good and need to be used, but they've been covered up. We've lost sight they are even there. We may find some things that need to be cherished. Forgotten things of joy, that have been buried by an avalanche of t-shirts and socks without mates (or even the prospect of dates). My closet is a collection point of good and bad, usable and not, treasure and crap.

The metaphor is obviously close to the surface. I have an internal closet that is much like my physical one. You do too. Left untended it gets stuffy and full of junk.  In ways both conscious and subconscious it effects every area of my life (the rest of the house). In it are shelves for emotions, relationships, identity, beliefs, etc. (In my closet, the dominant rack is a spiritual one.) It easily gets disorganized and chaotic without continual care and maintenance. Occasionally, it needs a thorough overhaul.

I began a bit of a journey just over a year ago - in reality, it's been much longer. Today is my birthday. (I may have to retitle this blog.) And I've recently found myself doing some CLOSET REFLECTING. I am in the process of 1) Digging. 2) Deciding what is needed and why. 3) Throwing out what is unnecessary. 4) Reorganizing with a plan.

I decided to finally do something about it! You?

Bday morning... I'm smiling on the inside!

For now...
D

YOUR BACKSWING

The three men pictured above are professional golfers Dustin Johnson, Jim Fuyrik and Shane Lowry. And it looks like two of them are about to have very sore right ankles. Actually, the pictures were taken individually a couple weeks ago at the Bridgestone Invitational; at the top of each golfer's backswing. The three were then set side by side for comparison.

Near perfect, overly vertical, and across the line. At least that is my analysis (from left to right).

"So what? So let's dance!

By the way, if you loathe golf, stick with me, I think there is application. And if you are a subtle-dressing Al Czervik wanna be, well, I had you at golf.

The golf swing is one of the most analyzed movements in all of sports. From address position to posture. From takeaway to follow through. Watch any golf tournament and you will see slow-mo and super slow-mo with telestrated lines drawn indicating plane and path and target line, ad nauseum.

What struck me when I saw the picture (the three guys, not Caddyshack) had little to do with golf, however. How is it that three guys can look so different half-way through the golf swing - at the top - and yet get such incredible and consistent results when club reaches ball? After all, one is thought to be the most talented young golfer having not yet won a major, one is a U.S. Open winner, and the third won the tournament at which the pictures were taken.

Golf swing gurus preach perfect positioning throughout the golf swing. However, many great golfers have some funk to their swing. Some idiosyncrasies are the result of physical limitations, some are ingrained from youth. But the bottom line is this: if you are making a living playing on the PGA Tour, something is working for you.

Golf is an amazingly frustrating thing. The ball just sits there... and laughs at you! Unlike baseball, it is not moving at 95 mph; unlike football, large men are not trying to rip it away; and unlike soccer, you get to use your hands - at least on the club.

So here's the thing: the ball just sits there waiting for you to do something to it. The ball doesn't know what color plaid your pants are, or how expensive your clubs. It sits and waits. The ball doesn't care what you look like at address... how you take the club away... or your position at the top. All the ball cares about is impact; those .0004 seconds that club and ball meet.

That's a peach, hon!

Four factors come into play at impact: 1) Club face orientation; 2) Club head direction; 3) Club head speed; and 4) Point of contact 

If you'll allow me to preach for a moment (and the life analogies begin):

• Orientation: Are you square to your target? It's your target, you picked it. Are you squared-up properly? If not, what will it take?
• Direction: Is your life swing path in the direction you want? Corrections can be made in the downswing, it's difficult, but go ahead and make them. Then through work and repetition, create the proper swing path.  
• Speed: Let's call this one MOMENTUM. Are you accelerating or decelerating? Never, never decelerate (even on short putts)!
• Contact: It should be crisp and clean, and on purpose. This is where the impact takes place. You have .0004 seconds to send the golf ball where you intend. How much time do you have with your child? Your spouse? Your friends, family, co-workers...? You get the point. 

Last thing about the demon white ball (You use yellow or orange, and call yourself a golfer? C'mon!). The ball doesn't care what kind of day you've had prior to this shot. It doesn't remember your last shot, whether it be a 300 yard drive or a complete shank. The ball waits... for impact.

The golf/life analogies are endless. (Just watch Caddyshack and The Legend of Bagger Vance. You'll pretty much have it summed up. Well, throw in The Greatest Game Ever Played and Tin Cup).

If you'll allow me to sum up with a self-directed sermonette:

• It doesn't matter if you have funk in your swing... SWING!
• It doesn't matter what you look like at the top or how you got where you are. I guess it does in the sense that your story is important. Your pain. Your joys. Your defeats. Your victories. They all have meaning and are meaningful in the way they have shaped you. But they are your backswing... SWING!
• Be the ball (I had to).
• It's just you, the ball and the target... GRIP IT AND RIP IT... SWING!

For now...

D

Burrito Bag Wisdom

Last night my son and I were driving home from Chipotle. Along the way he noticed something written on the carry-out bag. Though the burrito bowl and quesadilla were really good, the story my son read from the bag may have been the highlight.

I liked it. I am recounting the story verbatim from the burrito bag.

Two-Minute Alchemy
by Paulo Coelho

A legend tells of a man who used to carry water every day to his village, using two large pitchers tied on either end of a piece of wood, which he placed across his shoulders. 

One of the pitchers was older than the other and was full of small cracks; every time the man came back along the path to his house, half of the water was lost.

For two years, the man made the same journey. The younger pitcher was always very proud of the way it did its work and was sure that it was up to the task for which it had been created, while the other pitcher was mortally ashamed that it could carry out only half its task, even though it knew that the cracks were the result of long years of work. 

So ashamed was the old pitcher that, one day, while the man was preparing to fill it up with water from the well, it decided to speak to him.

"I wish to apologize because, due to my age, you only manage to take home half the water you fill me with, and thus quench only half the thirst awaiting you in your house."

The man smiled and said, "When we go back, be sure to take a careful look at the path."

The pitcher did as the man asked and noticed many flowers and plants growing along one side of the path.

"Do you see how much more beautiful nature is on your side of the road?" the man remarked. "I knew you had cracks, but I decided to take advantage of them. I sowed vegetables and flowers there, and you always watered them. I've picked dozens of roses to decorate my house, and my children have had lettuce, cabbage and onions to eat. If you were not the way you are, I could never have done this." 

It is sometimes difficult to accept our cracks; and harder still to value them. But take a look along the path... what do you see?

For now...
D

...sounds like... JUICE!

If we stop for a moment... if we look a little deeper... if we know for what we are listening... we find there is inspiration all around. It's there. It's here. We just have to look. We have to listen. The symphonic tones of inspiration are often subtle. The crashing cymbals of everyday stuff tend to drown them out - but never over-power them. As Shawn O'Connell says to Walter Mitty, "Beautiful things don't ask for attention."

Sorry for the mixed movie references in this post

We live in a culture - with its 24 hour news cycle, sensational reporting and reality TV - that inundates us with... well, the word I want to use slips out of my mouth at times, but is hard to type. Sometimes we need a little help tuning in. (Cue the music). 

I'm a sucker for a good pep talk. More than that, I love inspirational stories, inspirational speeches, inspirational people. Maybe I'm an inspiration junkie. At heart, I want to be inspired and to inspire. (That's a pretty big aspiration... to be an inspiration).

Each of us can be inspiration for someone. Stop and reread that last sentence. It's pretty much the point of this ramble. 

In the movie Million Dollar Arm, the least likely character, Amit, becomes the needed inspiration for two young Indian baseball pitchers to overcome their fears. A passionate baseball fan and want-to-be coach, Amit is given the opportunity to deliver the pre-tryout speech to his two nervous countrymen. As he begins to look in his coaching book for what he should say, he is told, "...from the heart." And he delivers:

YOU are real baseball players. Now small boys in India can dream to be like you. Let's go make JB, miss Brenda and our families proud...

Hey brothers... I'm seeing my dream in both of you. 

Your victory is my victory. Rock it brothers!

Amit's speech resonates. It could have come from Herb Brooks to the '80 Miracle On Ice hockey team, Mickey to Rocky (it's real, don't you doubt it!), or Knute Rockne to the Fighting Irish. 

A couple lessons on inspiration from Amit:

Inspiration... 

• ... comes from the heart. It can't be faked, drummed up or put on auto-pilot. Inauthenticity kills inspiration!
• ... comes from genuinely caring. Inspiration, void of personal investment, is noise.
• ... is inclusive. Inspiration has to be we and not you, or it is short-lived. 
• ... requires sacrifice. We can't fill someone else unless we poured out. The Greatest Inspirer of all time said, "Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." Then he went and did it!

You can inspire someone... today. 

Even more than that,

You are an inspiration to someone... right now!

Their victory is your victory... so ROCK IT BROTHER (or SISTER)!

For now...

D

P.S. - If you're wondering about the title, rent the movie :)