Patrick Rhone's Blog, page 15

Propupganda

I came across this question as I was driving around today. Not in an especially prominent place. Tucked away. Spray painted on the back of a warehouse on a less travelled road. It challenged me. I felt as if all those who happen upon it, those fortunate few, owe it to the asker to answer. My first answer: It’s likely been too long.

This got me thinking about signs and messages in general. What if such prompts for introspection were ubiquitous? What if we replaced every street sign with a call to action or opportunity for reflection. It could be called propupganda — messages designed to "prop up" one’s self-esteme. Would it make a difference in the way we see things? Would it make a difference in the way we treat each other? Or would these just blend in and be ignored. The same way we so easily ignore the mundane beauty that surrounds us daily. Would we rush pass signs like this and leave them unnoticed in the same way we rush past the beauty of the morning dew that has fallen on the lawn overnight. Unnoticed because getting to the where-we-go always seems to be more important than the where-we-are.

I’m in some ways glad this message is rare and off the beaten path. It makes the impact on those that notice it that much more appreciated. Here, in my rushing, I was stopped in my tracks and asked to reflect. And now my answer is: Right here, right now, I took the time to notice this. And, thus, my self is the better for doing so.

Habit Forming

Yesterday, I went on my first run after ten weeks of not doing so. Yep. Ten whole weeks.

About, eleven weeks ago, I went on my last long run of training for the Minneapolis Half Marathon. I set out for a two hour run and went 12.5 miles. It was a bit of a slog after I hit a wall at about mile nine. But, that was the same place I hit a wall in my first half-marathon so that was OK. I now know where that wall is. After I made it back home I was a bit sore but still felt like I had a bit more “left in the tank” and felt good about my overall time and pacing.

Then, after a few days of recovery my shins were still pretty sore. I began to get worried so I decided to go for a very short run to work out the kinks and see how I felt. Well, every step felt like my shins were on fire. I barely ran a mile like this and, at the point of tears from the pain, I walked home. I spent the next two days massaging with a couple of rollers, icing, modifying my nutrition, and just about every other tip I could find to see if I could fix it. The day before the marathon, I decided to try that same short run to see if I could make it. Same problem. I was certain it was shin splints. This is a common injury for those who have tried to increase their running distance too fast (as I had done). And, though I had paid the registration fee and picked up my race packet, I decided right then to bow out of the race. It was for the best.

I knew it would take a few weeks of babying my shins to heal. Resting, icing, massaging, stretching, etc. All of which I did. It was going to be a pain in the ass because I really had worked hard to form a routine — a habit — of running. I knew a couple of weeks off meant that I would spend every two to three days with the urge to go for a run. I also knew that, once I got back out there, I would need to take my time and be careful not to make the same mistake twice. All I would have to do is to fight that urge until I was well rested and healed. Then just give into it when the time came. It would still be there if I healed up soon enough. Which was the plan.

But then, two to three weeks became three to four. I always put it off to tomorrow. Then each tomorrow became just another tomorrow. And, each time I said tomorrow it became easier to say it again when tomorrow came. And, soon enough, I had formed a new habit…

A not-running habit. A tomorrow habit.

I had spent a good month or so when I started running coaxing myself to put on the shoes and get out the door. But, each time it required less and less coaxing. Until, eventually, I did it naturally because I had formed a running habit. Not running was not an option becuase I got a nagging feeling every time the time came to run.

Well, what I discovered is that one can form habits in the opposite direction as well. And, they work just like forming any other habit. The more you say no the easier it becomes to say it again.

This is true in other areas of our life too. That task on your list you keep putting off will become easier and easier to put off until, eventually, you form a “putting that particular task off” habit. That dream you keep talking about pursuing but never do, eventually becomes a “talking about it but never chasing the dream” habit. You get the idea.

The only way to break any habit is to eat that frog and replace it with a new one.

So, yesterday, I decided I needed to replace and rebuild my running habit. I refused to let it be just another tomorrow again. After so much time off, I would need to form the habit all over again. And the only way to start was to strap on my shoes, get out the door, and go.

It’s All Your Fault

You know those people who always seem to blame their misfortune on everyone but themselves? I know that I know them. It’s always his fault or her fault or their fault or the world’s fault. It’s even just plain bad luck or things just never seeming to go their way. It’s always someone or something else’s fault. It’s never their own. As if everything bad that happens in their life is part of some well orchestrated grand conspiracy.

And even if this is not who we generally are, we all have these singular moments. Moments where we are quick to point fingers and assign blame. Moments when, if something does not go as well as expected, it is not our fault — it’s theirs.

My first thought when I encounter such people or situations is this: Why would anyone give all of their power away so easily?

Power?

Yes. Power.

You see, if you are of the mind that everything bad that happens is someone else’s fault, or if you think that life just kind of happens to you as you are living it, then you are assigning a tremendous amount of power to them and assume no power to be able to change it yourself. If your choices and actions are always a reaction to the things that they do, then you have no agency to take action or make the independent choices that drive your life. And, I can’t imagine a life more sad than one where you believe that bad things just happen to you for no good reason. Where others are mean or things don’t go your way and you have no ability to make it stop.

But, if you see things differently and assume the responsibility for the things that happen in your life, then you also command the power to change them. Once you stop believing that them or they or the man or life are to blame, and start to look within for reasons instead, you can start about the work of making the changes needed to turn the tide.

The position of power is the ability to accept responsibility for one’s fortune — good or bad. Because only in this position does one have the power and opportunity to change or sutain it.

Realply

Tonight, I had an experience that I’m sure is common. Someone wrote me an email. I read it but did not take the time right then to reply. Later, I was out and about and happened to run into the sender. Before I even said hello, I gave him the answer I would have sent him in reply to his email. Thus, the matter is settled and now I can safely archive it without replying.

I related this to my friends on App.net and mentioned that there should be a name for this (as I’m sure it happens often). Johannes Valouch was the first to return what I feel is the best suggestion : Realply.

Therefore, consider it coined.

So, if your boss asks you if you replied to your co-workers email and, what happened was you did so in person, you can let them know that you took care of it with a realply.

Or, if someone sends you an email and you know the matter would be better discussed in person, you can say, "Hey, let me realply to that."

We could be onto something here.

The Only Everything

None of this is permanent. Not the things you own. Not the ground you walk on. Not this rock we live on or the space it travels. It will all die. So will you.

You’ve got about a hundred years, give or take. Some have more years than others.

This short period you occupy is driven by events and choices. An event happens and, in that moment, you make a choice. Some choices are easy. Others are hard. Some choices we learn from. Others we don’t. Some we must live with for years. Others are fleeting. Yet all constitute what we call our life.

Even as children it is choices that teach us and guide us. We know that some choices get us in trouble and others get us rewards. This is how we learn what is right and what is wrong. What is dangerous and what is safe. What makes us sad and what makes up happy.

You might make the same bad choices over and over again. It is your choice to do so or to change it. You might make nothing but smart choices and that is very, very, rare. Most of us fail forward. Learning from the poor choices and the smart ones so that we might make more of the later than the former as we grow.

You choose how to use each second. If you choose to use them doing something you hate or putting up with the shit people lay on you, you are wasting precious time. It is a choice. You are choosing to do so. Plain and simple.

One hundred years is nothing in the grand scheme of things but it is all you’ve got. It is the only everything you will ever know. Make the best choices you can.

The Shelf Life Of Notes

Flipping through an old notebook is a special and treasured pleasure of mine. Not only for reviving the memory of a time, person, or place, but also because I find they improve with time. The critical self dialog of the now is gone and the true nature of what I captured can now stand apart from such noise.

I have found that the longer my used notebooks sit on a shelf, the more valuable they become to me. That I often do not — can not — recognize the full worth of a thought, idea, or conversation I have captured until it has gone long forgotten on a shelf or in past pages. Only when I stumble upon it with eyes anew does the true importance shine through.

So, what I capture and where and how does not matter as much to me for most things. What is important is that I regularly take the time to go back to these places, flip through the pages, and allow those pasts to speak to me in the present.

Getting Things Done Elsewhere

I found the intersection of the following two posts that popped up on my radar interesting. Both should be of interest to "knowledge workers" and those who work at home.

The first, Things I’ve quit doing at my desk, offers some great tips for making your desk a workspace of purpose by employing some basic ground rules. All of the ideas are great but I found this one resonates with my own thinking and other things I’ve recently read:

If you’re like me, your best thinking happens when you’re not at your desk: taking a walk, going and asking another person for help, drinking a coffee, in the shower. Your desk is for executing; do your thinking elsewhere.

Then, shortly thereafter, I read this post from Randy Murray that aligns with my personal experience as well:

Having difficulty focusing and getting your work done? Pack up and move to somewhere new to work.

I have found that even moving to a different place my house has the same effect for me.

Sometimes, the best way to get things done can be found by getting away from where you normally do them.

Fragments

I see the signs. They are every where and no where. Concealed and in plain sight. Hidden to those that wish deception. For the fiction is pleasantry. Yet, for those of us who can see, we beg for blindness. For the truth is everything we fear.

I wrote this almost a year ago. I don’t know why. It is not a part of anything. Nor, do I feel that it is the start or ending to anything just yet. It just came out and, now, exists.

Sometimes, I write little snippets of things — fragments. Sometimes sentences. Sometimes paragraphs. Sometimes a whole page or two. Sometimes a single word.

I had a creative writing teacher when I was a teenager tell me this was not uncommon. That sometimes a writer’s brain does not work in linear wholes. That, sometimes a fragment will appear suddenly and have no place. Then, someday later, you might stumble across it and build upon it or find a place where it belongs.

She told me to set these aside and revisit them from time to time. That eventually their place may come along.

I have found this a helpful lesson for much of life. Not everything has to have a place right away. Sometimes we find a place. Sometimes a place comes along.

Other Side Of The Lens

This is a shot of Beatrix and I, taken the other day at the park. Pictures of the two of us together are rare. Not because we don’t spend much time together. Simply because I’m so often the one taking the pictures.

Yet, I spend a great deal of time with my little girl. I’m fiercely protective of that time too. She is simply one of my favorite people to be around. She’s sweet and funny and a creative thinker. She has an incredibly kind spirit and gentle heart. She’s the sort of kid who greets everyone she passes as we walk to the park. If they have a dog she will politely ask if she can pet it, ask the name, and hold out her hand gently and let the dog sniff before running her tiny hands across its head. She thanks people politely when they give her a compliment. Courtesy and grace are a part of her being.

She’s also wonderful to photograph. And I find myself being so captivated by doing so that it does not occur to me to be in the same frame with her. To show some evidence of being there too.

I think it is often the case that there is that one person in the family who assumes the role of principle photographer. It generally just kind of happens. And, I believe you could always tell who that person is if looking though a collection of family photos. They are the ones who appear in the fewest of the photos.

If you are that person in your family, remember to step around to the other side of the lens from time to time. Let the future know that you were there too.

I’m Sorry

Apologies, true ones, are more than these two words. Apologies require action. In my view, there are at least four separate steps required for any apology to be considered valid:

Recognize what you did wrong, why, how, and to whom.
Apologize to the person/people you wronged. Ideally with an explanation, now that you have completed step one and can provide a true one.
Remedy the wrong in whatever way possible. Preferably in a way that those you’ve wronged see as proper remedy as well. If they suggest one, and it is in any way agreeable, by all means save yourself some trouble and do that.
Learn from the experience so that you may avoid doing such wrong again. This is especially important because doing such again not only effectively cancels out the previous three steps but likely may render another round of apology ineffective or the requirements needed for another acceptance insurmountable.

Two simple words are never enough. In fact, they are all too often not even the right place to start.

Lately, I’ve been thinking that most of us could use a remedial course in such a basic courtesy. Heck, I’ll be the first to admit that I’m just as guilty and in need. So consider this simple message a note to self that I hope others can learn from too.