Experience

First, the essentials; I lost six pounds and I’m not fully enlightened. [smirk] In case that’s all you were interested in (or you thought I might lose my sense of humor during this experience) now you’re spared from any further reading! As with so many things in life, there’s what we think something will be and what it actually ends up being. Along that line, even after 10 days of almost constant work, my mind can still give any industrial strength food processor a run for its money. There were times it felt like the net difference between 11 hours of meditating (i.e. trying not to think) and the same amount of time spent flat-out thinking, was cumulatively about 30 minutes difference. Whatever drives the momentum of that blade is certainly wound up tight in this mind of mine!

While my experience taking a 10 day Vipassana Meditation Course was quite different from what I expected in some ways and surprisingly familiar in others, I came away with difficulties in how to convey my story. Any significant experience of such duration requires more content than a single blog entry and it’s quite likely that material will find expression from me in another place. Yet, as I progressed through the course, I couldn’t help but spend some of that trying-not-to-think time on how I would craft this entry. Would I give a day-by-day recount of my experiences? Would I share the story of Casey, who likes to joke that his name is spelled “Kazzy”? The concept of identifying days by number (Day 1, Day 2…), meeting my roommate and then not speaking to him for nine days while we shared a bathroom, 4:00am wake-up bells… what to share?! Maybe the progression of postures and chairs that I went through would be the most entertaining! And then something thoroughly unexpected happened. Well, to be quite honest there were several thoroughly unexpected discoveries during this deeply personal process, so this one might be best cast as the most surprising of the thoroughly unexpected. To be direct, I was overcome with humility.

I suspect that the thought of me being humbled might cause anyone that knows me much at all to smirk slightly (or even laugh hysterically,) especially given the context of having it “surprise me.” However it wasn’t the fact that I was humbled that surprised me, but the ways in which I felt humbled. It wasn’t the undeniable genius of these 2,500 year old techniques or the depth to which certain aspects have been substantiated by modern science, although this was quite impressive. It also wasn’t the number of people who all donated their efforts to making my experience possible, although I was truly humbled by this part of the experience as well. No, the portion of the experience that was surprisingly humbling was when I came to the realization that I couldn’t effectively do justice to documenting the experience.

I like to think of myself as not only intellectual, but also capable of explaining complex systems using simple language. I felt this was a yardstick of a certain type of intelligence, being able to bring something perhaps mystifying in its complete detail, down to the level of a non-expert. I even think I’ve established a reasonable track record at doing just that throughout a variety of casual conversations. I never even considered going in that this might be something that I couldn’t similarly squeeze through an intellectual reduction. While I could certainly produce a better attempt at such a written distillation than this blog entry, the essence of my humility came via my own learning of the difference between intellectual understanding and experiential wisdom.

Take any of a thousand examples of something that we will likely never experience but feel like we can intellectually understand in spite of that, like being on the winning team of the Super Bowl. I’m not talking about being a fan of the team, I’m talking about actually being on the field as a player experiencing that victory. We might have similar or relatable experiences and so we can intellectually observe the events from afar, but that’s not even remotely the same. We can read every article, re-watch every angle and take in as many documentaries about the game as are produced, yet it will all still pale in comparison to the elation those players feel.

Diametrically, there are the same number of players on the field that are experiencing something quite the opposite of elation. They just lost the biggest game of the entire season. Up until three hours, three minutes or possibly even three seconds prior they had the chance to feel the elation they now know belongs to their opponent. Such is life in any competitive game. These player’s feelings similarly can’t truly be understood by any non-participant. As the saying goes, there’s simply no substitute for experience.

So while my experience had absolutely nothing to do with Super Bowls, I can draw at least two simple analogies to what it was all about; life includes both winning and losing, and we must be equipped to deal with them both effectively. This should be easily understood, however until we actually experience certain things with a degree of true equanimity, there will always be a feeling of wanting all of one and none of the other.

And just in case this account hasn’t proven to be mystifying enough, I will leave you with these points:

• I started the course with excellent physical health and what I perceived to be a calm disposition. This tranquility was clearly the product of more than a year out of the “rat race” and much introspection before I even considered this 10-day excursion.
• I came out of the course with a cold that started on Day 8 that is producing sinus headaches along with body aches that only serve to augment the accumulated aches of trying to sit still in the same posture (in a chair mind you) for up to 11 hours a day.
• Yet to say that I am “better” would be a gross understatement. I actually am better than I was when I went in despite the physical illness and now have more clarity and energy than I did on Day 0. I see things more brightly, hear things previously undetected and understand things about myself and the human experience that I previously had no concept of. I am better than I have ever been.

One of those understandings is actually why I am this way as a result of this process. Yet that same process has left me humble enough to understand that the only truly effective way for anyone to grasp this apparent impossibility, is by seeking it for themselves.

May all beings be happy!  :-)

Pressing the “Off” Button

In staying true to the theme of this blog, I try to limit my entries to things related to the experience of writing. On rare occasion however, there are experiences that while outside the category of writing, are so significant that they deserve to be included here. My most recent blog entry (emphasis on recent) concluded with the list of questions I collected after considering the various “levels” to our thought processes. Most importantly was my open-ended musing as to whether or not there’s a way to intentionally impact the way we think.

In my own effort to explore the potential answers to that question, I’m going to attend a ten-day meditation retreat. For anyone that’s interested in all the nitty-gritty details, you can review the web site, but I’ll give you the condensed version. This retreat is all about Vipassana meditation and only about Vipassana meditation. The regimented daily schedule consists of over 10 hours of meditating, with the first session starting at 4:30am every morning. No contact with the outside world is allowed, the food is all vegetarian and just in case that doesn’t sound “hard core” enough, there’s essentially no talking by participants for the first nine days of the experience.

So how does this relate to affecting the way we think? To understand that, I’ll probably need to share an analogy that I use for what meditation represents. I like to imagine our thoughts and mind as a mental food processor. Our “mind” is represented by the whirling blade, always slicing and re-slicing anything that comes in contact with it. The problems start when we drop anything sticky in there, after which no matter how many times it gets knifed, it ends up stuck to the sides. Then at any time in the future, especially when triggered by some external event that reactivates a negative memory, that sticky mess can fall back onto the blade and consume more of our mental focus. This analogy is great because we’re simply rehashing the same material over and over again.

One theory on how to clean out the inside of our mental food processor is to stop tossing new items in and focus on what drops in from the sides of our memory banks. If we completely process the material, whether by intensely examining it, unraveling it or just plain observing it, there’s the potential to move past it. This is important because that “sticky stuff” has been building up since we were old enough to form memories, which some will claim is even before we were born. When viewed in this light, the idea of doing nothing but meditating and not even interacting with others, we can see how the intent is to engage in a form of mental deprivation. The intent of this exercise is to stop tossing things into the food processor and give it the opportunity to clean itself out. That spinning blade just won’t stop spinning, so it will find its way to anything it can get itself into. Without new material it will start working its way backwards through whatever it can dig up. Given enough time, all the sticky memories can find their way “out.”

And then what? Well, that’s the big question. Is it like pressing the off button on the food processor and finally feeling the constant process of thinking come to rest while we’re still conscious? Or with nothing of interest to hold our attention, does our thinking become something that is easier to ignore and raise our focus to a level essentially above thinking? Would it be more like our hearing then, where even though we always hear the sounds around us we can effectively tune them out when we focus on something else? There are various schools of thought on this, none of which I can fully subscribe to until I’ve had the first hand experience myself.

I mentioned that the “code of silence” observed during the course is only for the first nine days. It is lifted on the final day to allow for everyone to start reintegrating normal social habits. My close friend (who doesn’t often frequent this blog) warned me, “Dude, if you come back wearing a toga, I’m not going to hang out with you!” I’ll only give you one guess at what I intend to wear the next time I show up at his house… if only for a good laugh!

Be well, and I’ll try to share my experience as soon as I return (there’s not even any writing or journaling allowed while I’m there!)

Brian

If at First You Succeed… Change the Metric??

The last time I checked in with the blog, I was making some serious progress. In modern parlance, I might have even said I was, “kickin’ it.” I was doing so well in fact that I felt it was time to start wrapping this project up. I decided to set some concrete objectives and associated deadlines beyond just generating word count. Then something happened. I wouldn’t call it “writer’s block,” perhaps something more like “I’d rather lie on a bed of sharp nails than work on this, block.” What happened?! Logically, I knew that to finish this book I was going to have to basically finish one chapter at a time, so I targeted chapter one. Incredibly boring approach… I know.

When I was writing for word count, I afforded myself a little extra leeway regarding the output. I wasn’t too hard on myself about phrasing or making sure each sentence and paragraph melded perfectly with its neighbor. I didn’t overly concern myself with whether there was the appropriate amount of foreshadowing and reinforcement, or if each idea was focused upon for the appropriate amount of time. Transitions and segues could be dealt with later. Once I shifted gears, I drew my attention to each of these elements and more, intending to apply the polish that had been left out in the original broad strokes. Clearly this change in objective would naturally reduce my word count, as the focus is essentially editing rather than creation. There’s still creation going on as areas get filled in or rewritten, but the point is the word count wouldn’t grow as much in the process. And that would all be fine if the chapters started coming to completion, that’s just not what happened.

What became obvious upon some reflection was my old friend, expectations, was paying me a visit. The difference between my writing-for-word-count expectations and my finish-this-chapter expectations are wildly different. To the point that it induced a dread of rereading the same passages over and over again. In short, I had realistic expectations when using my former approach, but now perhaps expectations that are beyond my current ability. While that may sound defeatist, it’s not meant or felt that way. My ability slowly increases as this project moves along and part of the expectation includes how long I feel it should take to produce this envisioned masterpiece. There are numerous accounts of how our own expectations can prevent us from enjoying something or even pursuing it. And really, who doesn’t understand that?

I could share with you the many ways in which I’ve learned that expectations are more often a detriment than a help or how managing them is essential to our happiness. If you’ve never heard something to that effect before a) I’m shocked and b) read this http://www.mindfood.com/at-managing-expectations-change-it-blog.seo . At this point you might be thinking, “Well you big dummy, just go back to writing for word count!” This might help me generate higher word counts in the interim, but ultimately this change in focus is necessary so dealing with my self-imposed expectations needs to be addressed sooner or later.

Instead of reviewing the concept of expectations however, I’d like to go a little deeper. I understand fully the problem with having high expectations and have understood it for quite some time. Yet here I was, the victim of my own expectations, almost without even knowing it. It sparked a thought regarding how this can happen inside the mind of someone that proclaims to actually “get it.” My resultant theory is something a little more elegant than a previous, “Maybe I’m not as smart as I think I am” version. I propose that there are numerous “levels” to our thinking. How many there might be isn’t clear and perhaps isn’t the relevant issue. They range from the lowest level of “[grunt] I’m hungry” all the way up to, “I choose to willingly sacrifice myself for some greater good.” Or something to that effect. We could likely have another debate around what that highest level really looks like, but again that’s not the point. The point is, honestly, who hasn’t found themselves making choices in a way that runs counter to some principle they understand? It might be easy to simply chalk this up to forgetfulness, or even laziness, however I’m proposing this “level” concept.

What I’m trying to express is that we can think at different levels. Conducting ourselves in a loving manner is always more challenging when we’re starving to death. Outside of these obvious extremes however I believe are more subtle levels. Do I consistently think of others before myself or is that a less frequent occasion? More commonly, I’m guessing that we think at a level that could best be described as, “what gives me the most immediate satisfaction?” I imagine we all float around, in and out of these various levels at different times, while also having a more dominant zone that we tend to reside in. In truth, this all leaves me with more questions than answers. Are there triggers that cause us to move up or down through these levels? Is it possible to become aware of these triggers or manage our thought level with any consistency? And perhaps most importantly, is there any way to encourage my thought processes towards a higher level and get them to stay there?

My next blog entry (which I intend to have out in less than a week) is going to outline my upcoming exploration directly into some of these questions.

Stay tuned and Happy Thanksgiving!

Increments

My most direct measure of progress has remained my writing word count. Thankfully Microsoft Word® does all that work for me. While I have yet to meet my daily goal five days in a row, I’m starting to even out production across the week and get closer to my targets. I’m also tracking my progress month-by-month, which really highlights the difficulty in maintaining my desired performance. For that reason, I’ve really been focusing on making sure my monthly production continues to increase. While the majority of the gains have been modest, I’ve been able to grow my word count consistently for the past five months.

I’m certain my attention to this level of detail has to do with my analytical nature and experience in project management. I’d actually be surprised if the average published writer uses something similar. Far be it from me to suggest how anyone approaches their vocation, but this attention to small changes is important in another area of lives. While we’re often forced to track and report on our progress in our professional lives, how often do we even chart out our personal life goals? Sure, some of us come up with long range plans, when we wanted to get married, buy a house, have kids, etc. What seemingly gets even less focus however, is who do we wish to become as individuals? I don’t mean that in the “Boy I’d like to be a rock star,” sense, but from a character development perspective, such as I’d like to be a more generous person. This question might often get avoided not only for the sometimes less-than-flattering experience of looking directly in the mirror, but also due to the fact that working on our selves is, well… work.

Seriously, how many of us spend more time planning vacations than we do considering what we could improve about ourselves? And I’m not trying to chide anyone, I can say that until I developed ideas for this book around seven years ago, I probably put almost zero thought into it. And even with that, I’ve wavered throughout that time in my pursuit. The realities of life seemingly get in the way of “extracurricular activities” like personal development. I recently heard one individual’s rant that trying to live a virtuous life was almost impossible when you live “in the real world.” This all led me to realize that writing a book, or any long-term project for that matter, is very similar to making changes in ourselves. These changes very seldom come “wholesale” and quite frankly, the life trauma that brings on wide-arching character development shouldn’t be wished upon anyone. So if we’re going to make progress, it has to be a little bit at a time.

I know it’s a bit of a cliché, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true. For example, in the pursuit of being more generous, start with the smallest of things. Try sharing your French fries at lunch or offering to do something for someone when you know you aren’t required to. Whatever you can identify as something that would expand your character in the desired direction, use that as your focus. Two suggestions though, make it small and make it something that you’ll change permanently. Don’t pick something so challenging that after a week you’ll revert to old habits. The point is to pick something so small, so easy that after you work on it long enough, it will become second nature. Once that happens, you can move on to the next thing, building incrementally upon your success.

I apologize for morphing this blog entry into a how-to on character development. I suppose that’s something I’ve learned along the way in this experience. Take this blog entry as an example, I didn’t write it all in one sitting, it came together in steps. After four months of incremental gains in word count, last month I crushed it, increasing my totals by over 35% from the previous month. Perhaps the habit has taken hold.

And if you don’t believe me, how could you argue with my fortune cookie wisdom of the day? “He who waits to do a great deal of good all at once, will never do anything.” If that wasn’t a sure sign that I should finish writing this entry… I don’t know what is.

Best wishes to all!

Facing Fear

So much is written in popular psychology regarding fear. It can be obsession-invoking, completely illogical and downright debilitating. In fact some circles consider fear to be the primary motivator behind our decision making process. Right around the time I posted my previous post, I came to realize the role that “fear” was playing in my writing process.

As with all art created for the purpose of sharing with others, there’s a certain trepidation around “putting yourself out there.” As the antagonist of the animated feature “Ratatouille” articulates clearly, it’s much easier to be a critic than to bear the potential ridicule of producing anything meant to be consumed by others. The more personally attached you feel to what you’re creating, the greater your potential for experiencing some apprehension. That is not to say that everyone engaged in creating something experiences this, but I believe it is extremely common in anyone’s “first” experience. Painting the first painting that is commissioned or sharing a poem in a public forum for the first time are good examples of what I mean by this.

Just to make this a trifecta, there’s even one more challenge embedded in my circumstances. In addition to being my first book and something I feel deeply about, in many ways I’m going against the grain. As they say, it’s easy when you’re “preaching to the choir” but understandably different when you’re challenging long-held beliefs. Perhaps I even deserve an added bonus for writing on the topic of something as personal and socially taboo as spirituality and religion.

I started keeping this blog primarily to share my experience of being a writer, but I also had a number of ulterior motives. For one, it was the lowest barrier to entry of the “putting myself out there” situation. It’s one thing to tell your friends and close associates that you’re going to write a book, but another to share the story of the process with the world (even if the only people reading it are your close friends and associates!) There’s also the added writing practice the blog provides along with repeated experiences of “publishing” your work.

The most significant motive of my blog agenda however was to drive a “no turning back” stake into the ground of my writing expedition. I know myself well enough that I’d rather face the fear of publishing a book that might not be the culmination of my best writing effort than to end this blog with an “I give up” entry. Nor am I willing to just let this blog die without a suitable closing. As any reader of this blog, you represent a motivational force in this marathon… and for that I thank you.

Forcing yourself to deal with fear may be effective, but it’s not really a strategy per se. In many ways, fear is like pain. It is uncomfortable, designed to capture your attention, sometimes chronic and often nagging. Pain can actually be managed though, in a number of ways. In meditation, devotees often experience pain and discomfort when attempting to sit for extended periods. One method taught in some philosophies is not to resist the pain, but to focus on it totally. Don’t wish it away, don’t try to alleviate it… simply observe it as a phenomenon. The miracle for those who are able to develop this kind of focus (and tolerance) is that the pain eventually just goes away.

My point in all this is that fear can also be managed, probably with a lot less discomfort. There’s the rationalizing and dissecting that can help us uncover why we’re afraid of something, but that simply provides us with an explanation. The more important step is to face the fear as a phenomenon like pain and see what happens when you just let it be there. (Please don’t try this at home if you’re prone to panic attacks.) Ultimately we typically find that after a slightly elevated heart rate and way too many brain cycles spent on worrying, the entire experience wasn’t nearly as bad as we made it out to be in our minds.

Those rare individuals that walk among us with a complete mastery of fear experience the world in a much different way. Everything becomes an opportunity… and isn’t that what life ultimately is for all of us?

Change of Venue

Can anyone deny that we’re creatures of habit? Even if we’re constantly trying something different, that constitutes a habit of its own. There’s just no escaping the habitual label. [smile] I myself tend to be more of the traditional habit type versus the adventurous sort. Sure, I’ll give most things a go (my motto in youth was “try everything at least once”) but when it comes to routine I tend to stay with what works.

This week marks the beginning of my nomadic writing experience. Not surprisingly, this wasn’t triggered by some awesome inspiration but by the temporary closure of my normal writing venue. I tend to think of The Bedford Library as “the office” or “work” as most of us refer to it. They’re closed for approximately three weeks to conduct what I can only guess to be minor upgrades. It was all I could do not to ask if one of the tasks to be completed was replacing the carpet which is the only real deficiency I’ve noted about “my office.” I thought it better to keep my comments to myself. Nobody likes a nagging tenant… especially one that doesn’t pay proportionally to their usage!

What did strike me about my visits to different writing locations is how much we are all the product of our environment. Again, we’re not breaking any new ground here, but the lessons are sometimes so simple that we neglect the power of their true implementation. The effect of my surroundings on my writing was but one of the elements that brought this to my attention recently. One of the most widely accepted precepts of being a modern writer is that you must also be a modern reader, voracious if you can manage it. This is the most basic element of “your environment” as a writer as you’re clearly shaping your mind by what you put into it. This goes quite a bit beyond just learning by example, which might be truer of reading someone else’s computer code.

Then there was a passage in the Dhammapada, a Buddhist collection of writings that was part of a monthly book review group I started participating in. There are numerous translations of the original text into English, but the one I was provided included this as stanza 61:

If, in your course, you don't meet
your equal, your better,
then continue your course,
     firmly,
         alone.
There's no fellowship with fools.

Some of the other translations spelled out a little more clearly the importance of the company you keep. This really gave me pause to think about who I spend my time with and who I “follow” for lack of a better word. In today’s society we have the benefit of advanced communication and the ability to essentially be a follower of someone that we’ve never personally met or ever will. While that’s a positive product of technology, the flip side is that we rarely get to interact with these influencers, whether they’re miles away or long dead.

Without delving too far into the philosophical nature of all this, the real power of this concept is much simpler. Don’t like the “output” of your life? Then change the input. We’ve probably all heard the stories that sometimes when your life has gone down such a destructive path you need to change your friends to heal yourself. Why let it get to that point? We all have the capability to examine our life, our situations and consciously make efforts to alter their course. This doesn’t have to mean leaving friends behind or changing our associates, sometimes all that’s necessary is a constructive discussion around the viewpoints that you feel are incompatible with your own.

Pursuing that tract takes strength of character and conviction. Not things that should be taken lightly… but things may very well be the desired outcome of any honest introspection. Sometimes a change in surroundings forces you to reexamine everything, even yourself.

Vacation... Really?!

When you let a blog sit for too long without posting, does it develop cobwebs? Or are they “blogwebs?” Good thing for me my book isn’t about humor, right?

There’s been lots of personal activity since my last post that doesn’t really have to do with writing. Trips to New York to visit an ill relative (all good now) and drama surrounding vehicle repairs and state inspections unexpectedly made their way onto the agenda. In addition, I took not just one but two vacations in April. Which got me to thinking, can you really take vacations from writing a book? I’m certain this is true, the more amusing question is, when you don’t work as hard as a “real job” might require, should it be considered a vacation?

The truth is it does make a difference. Putting the work down and not thinking about it for a while helps to come back a litter fresher. Additionally, being “on vacation” brings back memories of regular work routines and reignites the desire to accomplish things. There’s something about travel that makes you think your world could be very different and fresh ideas about how that could happen seem to appear. Since returning from these vacations I’ve had better discipline and work output than previously and I continue to feel motivated.

Steven King doesn’t speak of vacation, but he does talk about writing your first draft and then putting it aside for six weeks before coming back to it and reading it as though it’s the first time. I’ll likely try this when I have anything that resembles a first draft, however I have visions that by the time I have something that’s close to a completed draft, it will be beyond the standard of a first draft.

Another area I’ve turned to for motivation is a different form of structure. What’s the primary reason for any job? To be compensated of course, however the factors of my situation don’t really allow for that at the present moment. So, someone suggested to me, “Why don’t you write yourself a check every week like you’re getting paid for what you do?” It was an intriguing thought and it actually made its way into my routine. I calculated some hopeful amounts and timetables and came up with what my weekly paycheck should be. Since I already track my word count as part of this process, each week I include the number of words I added on the memo line. Sometimes (okay, most times) there’s a twinge of agony knowing that I’m “getting paid” for that amount of work. “Couldn’t you get more done in a week?!” is generally the self-deprecating question. So while guilt is not a favorite tool of mine, in this case I’m using it gently to keep reminding me that this is work and when finished there’s likely some financial payback, however modest.

Finally, there’s that all important “human interaction” aspect that I noted in a previous post. Having people that are interested in your work or are willing to discuss topics of concern helps to sharpen your ideas and thoughts. I’m fortunate to have a few individuals to play this role and that benefits me immensely. Okay, one more of my sources of inspiration are the occasional news stories that I see indicating the population is drifting towards the ideas I hope to convey. Knowing not only that there’s a market for what you hope to produce but a growing one is possibly the biggest motivator for some people, but for me, I think it’s more of simply a reassurance.

Here’s to a great summer!

Misfortune

Today I treated myself to lunch at Taipei & Tokyo 3, my favorite Chinese restaurant. It's become almost a weekly ritual for me to show up after their lunch rush, get a table for one and order my ole standby… Orange Flavored Chicken. I'm waiting for the day that they don't ask me what I want because they already know, a sure sign that I've become a regular. Just about the only variation in this little routine comes in the form of fortune cookie wisdom. Each meal ends with the bill and an individually wrapped, folded orange-ish "pastry" made in Brooklyn. Don't laugh, that makes it pretty close to authentic. This afternoon's daily pearl was bookended with smiley faces as always, "Your luck has been completely changed tobay." Here's the story of just how true that fortune is.

This blog and my return to the writing path began with my choice to leave a place of employment in favor of authoring a book. I've received compliments for my apparent bravery for making such a bold move. I attempted to be gracious and humble, but the decision actually came a little easier than it seems simply because I knew it was right for me. When asked for more in-depth answers to the question of why, I most frequently stated that it wasn't that the job was bad, just that I had something else that I really wanted to do. Depending on the audience I'd throw in a "but it wasn't the perfect job either… otherwise why would I be interested in something else?"

Eight days ago it was announced that said former company entered into an agreement to hand over their operational and technological aspects of the business to a former competitor. Other divisions of the company will remain, however the end result is that many of the people I worked with on a daily basis will be in search of new employment. Some of them have already initiated that operation. While I feel a sense of failure regarding my contributions to this former employer, even though I'm no longer a member, I know any feelings I have are tempered by my distance compared to those that still remain. I'm of course hopeful that everyone there will land on their feet in some way or another, however the cold reality of the current job market points to that not being the case for each affected individual. I still have close relationships with several former co-workers and cringe when I hear of the anxiety and bad blood that is perhaps inevitable with such a traumatic event. Rampant resume work, corporate disillusionment and profanity laced conference room meetings are just the things I hear about. I try not to think about what doesn't make it outside the walls.

I'd also like to believe that I've developed enough as a human being that I'd never enjoy the pain of another, no matter who that person represents. I know this is true from my sincere hopes for everyone involved, even those I might not have seen eye-to-eye with. With apologies to those readers that are directly affected by these events, I just can't ignore what they mean to me. While I would NEVER wish for a sign of this magnitude to provide direction in my life, I also will not allow myself to ignore it. Had I not chosen the path I am currently on, it is entirely possible that I would have been forced down it. This is far from the first indication I've experienced to keep my compass pointing true. In fact, it's not even the most significant to me personally. But it is the one that most impacts others in a negative fashion and actually makes me grateful for the choices I've made. We're all our own worst critic and had I needed to be present for this corporate downsizing to push me back on the path, I'd regret not being proactive. I certainly don't want my fate intertwined with people losing their jobs.

So I chose something rather than having the choice made for me. I suppose some people might consider that lucky. But it wasn't today that those events took shape, they actually played out over half a year ago. Further it was eight days ago I heard about this, not today. And if you have a real keen eye you'd have caught that the predictive little piece of paper I received with my lunch didn't actually say "today." That wasn't my typo, that's exactly what it said. So, my luck did change completely, just not exactly today. That's how I choose to interpret it anyway… since I don't feel like changing my name to "Tobay."

With heartfelt wishes for my former comrades.

It’s the Structure, Stupid

The New Year always provides the traditional milestone to evaluate our life's progress and set goals for the future. While the amount of polished content I collected last year for my intended first publication falls well short, I found considerable solace in what was accomplished in 2009. Making the leap and commitment to writing as a profession took a lot of planning, saving and support from my wife Meghan. Having addressed the vast majority of the "around the house" tasks last year, the way has been cleared for more reading and writing than ever. Pay no attention to the garage that still can't quite shelter a Honda Civic. Hey, it *IS* a four-door, that's got to be at least eight inches longer than if we had the coupe!

As I mentioned in the previous post, my pursuit of knowledge has expanded beyond just books. I joined a Buddhist Discussion Group that meets monthly to discuss, well, books on Buddhism. I was even told that you don't need to read the current book to attend the group. It's like having someone else do your homework for you! Okay, that is if you trust them to do your homework. Given that I don't select the books for review, it will be hit-or-miss with applicable titles anyway. Turns out though that it was a great source of information on recommended books on Buddhism as well as a place to meet people who are also interested in both Buddhism and meditation practices.

While the discussion group is only once a month, I've managed to collect a few weekly activities to keep me sane and healthy. The specifics aren't important, but I did start to notice that my evenings have more structure than my days. Sure, I have a list of things that I generally accomplish every day, but they don't always seem to happen in the same order or at any prescribed time. I've already written about structure and how I've been fleshing out the chapters of the book. I have a complete chapter outline and individual Word documents for each chapter. To keep the stream of thoughts ordered properly, I've even gone to sub-chapter topic organization. One of the challenges I have is a tendency to transition from topic to topic rather quickly as part of my standard "sit and write" sessions. Typically I find that both the ideas and writing are okay, but they move too quickly and need to be reworked. All too often content which probably would fit better a few pages ahead is being introduced too early.

So I'm trying a new approach. I take a particular chapter and then select a certain sub-topic within that chapter that might be interesting at the moment and focus on it. By focus, I mean first think carefully (and generally for more than a day) about what should be said (written) with regard to that sub-topic. Sometimes what comes to mind ends up being ideas for additional sub-topics or the rearrangement of existing material after deeper thinking on a specific area. This angle has two noticeable benefits. It further reigns in the "write whatever comes to mind" method which can produce word count but ends up needing rework or chopping to stay within a workable storyline. Perhaps more interesting to me though is how it's forcing me to learn the art of storytelling on the fly. Sure, I could just spew it all over the page and get the ideas out there, but that doesn't make for very good reading. We're shooting for at least mildly engaging and entertaining here. Who am I kidding? If someone tells me it was "mildly engaging" when I'm done I'll take that about as well as an F on a Master's Thesis.

I continue to benefit from meeting people that have an interest or ability to help me along my chosen path. That, accompanied with the various encouragements, goes a long way to feeling as though I'm doing the right thing. Or should I say the "write thing?" [chuckle] As a quick tangent, some of my time is focused on elements outside the writing of the book that are "mildly interesting" but definitely outside the scope of this blog. Those efforts will come to light soon enough, but for now you'll all just have to wait and see.

"The Blog is Not Enough"

That comes across the sexiest if you think of James Bond and the film of a similar name. Stay Tuned!