Sarah Gerdes's Blog, page 2

Slot machine relationships

My dad said that his early successwas due to his ability to ‘get people talking’ in the first few seconds,thereby immediately creating a connection. His comment rang true when I wasqualifying a gentleman about being a part of my next book. 

About a second after the callstarted, he asked me how I liked living in San Francisco back in the day.Roughly five minutes in, he politely interrupted and said very formally: “I’vedecided to let you interview me.” I laughed, teasing that I thought hewas the one being qualified.

“Actually, I got you talking byasking you one question. Only one,” he emphasized with the wisdom of theseventy-year-old, self-made man that he was. “You answered directly, honestlyand made no pretenses to what I thought about the subject matter.” Intrigued, Imomentarily forgot his net worth (nearly a billion dollars) or my list ofquestions. I was impressed he’d gotten me talking and said so.

“I was determining if you were worthyof my time,” he said without guile. This was the beginning of a long,rewarding, and fulfilling correspondence with an individual I’ve never met inperson, but who has since imparted tremendous wisdom over the years.

Genuine caringnegates the fear

Early in my career, I was the voicefor my employer, the direct line of defense to investors and press, making thecase for the company, product(s) or both. Having seen my father in action andarmed with words of wisdom, I worked to master the art of pitching to completestrangers. Selling – influencing – means you have to embrace fear:  fearof failure. As I detail in a semi-autobiographical book, had I not been asingle mother, my fear of rejection would have been enough for me toquit. 

Yet I was inhibited until I realized I had to learn to love the process of pitching. Perhaps “love” is too strong a word.  I had to learn to be vulnerable. Being personable, sharing glimpses of my life my being requires a certain level of courage. Risking people judging you on very little information.  But, as with pitching, sharing snippets of oneself is also a process. Once I let myself be, asking and talking about the meaningful parts of life; family, pets, success and failures, all without prejudice or judgment, and always within the bounds of propriety and professionalism, whatever inhibitors that remained disappeared.  

We are humans, born with the innate need to love and be loved. Often, just caring is enough. You’d be surprised—as I was—the impact one can have on another’s life just by caring.

The slot-machine relationship 

For one project, I was tasked withworking with the local media for a non-profit organization who in twenty yearshad made zero effort in terms of public relations. Donation drives for moneyand food yes, caring, focus and efforts to engage the press or developingstrategic relationships, no. As a consequence, other similarly tasked groupswere the first ones to receive media calls, resulting in favorable coverage andultimately, more donations.

I knew this was going to be amulti-year hurdle, because the first prejudice against a new media contact isthat the interaction is only going to be a transaction; a classic slot-machinerelationship. To counteract this, I started with sharing the basics, such as mygoal of changing public perception but also that I was in it for the long-haul.Anticipating skepticism, I gradually began sending short pitches about othersubjects or organizations that would be relevant for the publication.

In other words: I made each editor’s life easier by feeding them stories that had nothing to do with me. (For all you new PR/media folks, keep in mind an entire page/website/section of content needs to be filled every day. That’s a tough job! But remember, editors need you as much as you need them). Then I went the extra mile and wrote articles that they could place, generally human-interest based upon a particular section.

Over time, this approach led to a foundational appreciation of my work, and their respect that it “wasn’t just all about me or the organization I represented.” My unsolicited shares showed them that I genuinely cared about their [the editor’s] success. At the core, the song from High School Musical is true: We are all in this together. Whether or not you wretch on the example, if we—the contributing members of society don’t care and help one another—we are left without a strong, invested and caring community.

It came down to the dog

Fast forward a few years. The six major media outlets, covering four cities in print and then two for the overall region, eventually came around and every two or three weeks, we had a major profile. This translated to over 600,000 ‘eyeballs’ looking at the positive press. Before and after polls showed that the awareness of, and positive perception of the entity went from single digits to over seventy percent (75%?  some people you’ll never win over).

Despite my near two-year efforts, oneparticularly tough editor simply wouldn’t cover the organization. I was neversure why this was the case, and I assumed that over time the good of the grouphad to be covered. Seven years later, she announced she was heading to theeast coast to care for her ailing mother. I was really bummed. Although my workwith the non-profit had ended, we’d continued to have the occasional sushilunches and I brought her German Shepard dogs homemade treats. 

The last day, we had lunch, eatingspicy tuna hand rolls, talking about how our relationship had overcome theinitial bumps and hurdles. She confessed she hated the former policies of thenon-profit, and thought they were hypocritical and prejudiced to othernon-profits.  

“Do you know why I finally coveredyour organization? You asked about me after my dog died. No one else did, noteven my family members.”

What I’d done was natural to me andwould be to every animal lover. They are our everything.  Ultimately, whenshe hurt, I hurt, and she knew it.

Our relationship with deity is not transactional

In a talk by D. Todd Christofferson, he used this slot-machine mentality in the context of our relationship to God, wherein a person has this “if-this-then-that,” approach. Ergo, if I am a ‘good person,’ my marriage won’t end in divorce. Or, if I give to charity then my business will be a success. If that were the case, as I’m paraphrasing here, then the decrements of our life should also hold true. The reason my car was sideswiped was because of my dishonesty at work.

Not all actions are going to cause areaction that we desire. Not all books are bestsellers, not all articles arepositive and not all relationships work, despite the amount of effort, devotionand love given. Even so, the forward momentum, pushed along by the engine ofdesire while being directionally correct continues, regardless of the immediateoutcome. That’s the long-term approach, with man or with God. Evolving from theimmediate impact, such as making the media page, selling the car or droppingoff the cake to the neighbor transitions to caring, giving or and loving, theemotion which inspired the act, rather than the act itself. As the phrase goes,it’s not about what was said, but how you made the person feel. 

Returning to the successful executiveand the editor, both individuals have been in my life for nearly fifteen yearsnow. I’ve never physically met the businessman and haven’t seen the editor forsix years now (and running), but it’s irrelevant. What’s in the heart hastranscended proximity and time. 

The Billionaire Next Door

Unfortunately, this isn’t the happy ending Guy Kawasaki is known for, where one scrimps, saves, ends up with millions and is nice to boot. Nope. This is where a regular joe gets lucky with construction, parlaying one home to another, ultimately creating (then losing) a premiere golf course, but the windfall is still enough to give him a home on the water and about $1.1B in the bank.

Why now? Why this story?

Because afterfifteen minutes at his home, pitching him on a business that will actually helppeople of color and the disadvantaged, and listening to his comments, Ipondered for a hot minute, then announced: “we should end the conversation nowbecause we aren’t aligned in our thinking.” He was taken aback as I stood, stammeringas he tried to prevent my departure.

Here are a few choicecomments he made during that painfully brief time we spent together.

Me: “Don’t you are about the world you’re grandchildrenwill grow up in and experience?”

Him: “No, I don’t see them that much anyway.”

Alrighty then….

Me: “Are you okay with a world where thestay-at-home economy is all we know, therein losing the opportunity to interactwith those not like ourselves, helping us grow and live together—essentially,have understanding and compassion for others?”

Him: “Nope. I get all my stuff from Amazon. Ilike the way things are.”

A sadexistence…..

I’ll skip overthe bantering part where he gloated about getting in at the opening price of Facebookor that he thought most charities were schemes for the executives, or why hedidn’t need personal advisors because he was smarter than all of them.

Me: This place is beautiful, one of thenicest on the lake, but what about your wife? Don’t you two get out—and don’tyou want this to remain lovely and inviting to those around you who are lessfortunate?

Him: “Are you referring to the woman whogreeted you? She’s the housekeeper. I’m twice divorced, and no, I don’t care.”

They areprobably better off for it….

At that point, itceased being about the money, or his working with the organization in anycapacity. This was about the simple things, like life, values, morals, ethicsor lack thereof.

“Well, (name),thanks for your time, but I don’t believe we’re a fit for one another at any level,”and as I stand, I continue: “I’ll let myself out if that’s alright.”

Seeing I’m going to leave regardless, he rises, apologizes and insists I tell him more. I politely decline.

“From this brief conversation, it’s clear we don’t share any of the same values or ideals, and that’s quite alright. You have your view of the world and I have mine. Let’s just leave it at that.”

I start to leavehis glorious gazebo by the lake, the metal, concrete and glass structureoutfitted with a round, queen-size copper fireplace in the middle, sound-activatedwindow shields and 180 unobstructed views behind. He rushes beside me, insistingthat I can’t walk back up the gravel path in my heels (which I really can’t,but was going to try), but must go in his custom (and highly cool, I willadmit) little 4×4.

Heed the 3-second rule

On the ride up, I realize that the first impression, the one Harvard Business School calls the “3-second rule” played out, once again. In 3 seconds, a person snapshots what they see, makes a judgement, and it’s usually right. The man who’d come to the door had answered in a t-shirt that included a moose, a crass statement and a curse word. I didn’t recognize him, and certainly didn’t believe him to be the man who’d taken my meeting.

As my agent alwayssays: truth isn’t believable, that’s why we put it into a book, call it fictionand pass it off to the reader, because it’s the only way it’s palatable. Standingthere, in my linen pants, heels and good attitude, I encounter a man who’s madegood financially, but failed to acquire the class, perspective, kindness or compassionof others who aren’t a 10th as “successful.” In my words, he’s acomplete failure.

The epilogue

Like so many a person who is suddenly rejected, his overly-solicitous nature went into hyperdrive on the carport area, as though he divined that I was neither impressed by his home, money or t-shirt. He made every offer possible for me to re-pitch and re-engage in the discussion. While polite to the very end, his efforts were disingenuous, and we both knew it. Nothing he could say would change who he’d revealed himself to be, and no amount of money or words would entice me to interact with him again. The downside would far outweigh the dollars.

And all thesetrite sayings….money can’t buy happiness, or you can’t buy class… they comefrom somewhere, and that place is real life, where you and I live each andevery day. So when you read a line or a scene in my book, odds are—it happened,but as my agent said, I’m just writing about it, calling it fiction so it’s notas hard to digest.

God, ratings and distribution

An author’s cheat sheet for getting the right readers through the ratings

During my last trip, the GM of the hotel where we were staying finally admitted he’d been writing a mystery romance novel and invited my thoughts. I was thrilled for him and his forthcoming book! An Egyptian by birth, the man speaks seven languages, served as an executive at the Four Seasons in both Eqypt and London, his depth of experiences superb for writing not just one novel, but a series.

Everyone has a story to tell….

His foremost concern were the topics off-limits in manyhighly religious parts of the world. This was the opportunity for me to talkabout book ratings, a subject that was completely invisible to me until aboutfive years ago when I found myself rejected from a variety of marketingcampaigns. After digging into the issue, I discovered my submissions didn’thave a ‘book rating,’ and until this occurred, I’d be prevented fromparticipating.

What is a book rating?

It’s akin to the movie rating system in the EU or America. Several sites offer ratings, which require the submission of manuscript, but also the authors self-identified ratings in major categories. Once submitted, an audit team comprised of readers and editors validate the author-submitted ratings.

What’s rated?

Four-five general sections depending on the site/service: language (curse words), sexuality (same sex), sex (all kinds) graphic (gore). In each of these sections, a scale exists that one must select. At the end, the composite of the above places the book in a category that assigns a rating. If, upon editorial review, what the author has submitted proves incorrect, the rating of the author drops, so the honor system is tightly controlled and multiple offenses result in the author being rejected outright. In other words, one must be accurate.

Why bother?

Because an author (or publisher) wants the broadest distribution for the book. Years ago, major big box stores such as WalMart had different criteria (standards?!) than they do today. That said, Christian bookstores—which have maintained their revenue through the ebook trends—adhere to the rating system. If your book curses God or contains gore, it wouldn’t have been carried without a rating, but if your book is within the required parameters, it should be carried, and that requires a rating.

In terms of your time and effort, about 15 minutes of cut, pasting and uploading. If you have a library (say 5-7 books) it may take an hour or so. Get going by signing up and submitting a book. This guides you through the entire process. If you have a manuscript in .doc form, but don’t yet have (or know how) to convert it to an epub, mobi or other format, go the fastest route and sign up/use Draft to Digital (2 sections down)–it’s what I did years ago and saved me hours of pain!! Once in the D2D system, you can create all these formats for free, safe and then upload to MBC, Google Play or anywhere else requiring these formats. Plus, you have just created a massive distribution for your books!

What’s the “God” part?

Depending on the culture, the mention of deity, be it Heavenly Father, Allah, God, can be used reverently or as a curse. The former mentions are acceptable and not considered offensive, while “oh-my-G-D, or any other derivative) is the equivalent of the F-word. For instance, ratings will go 1-5 curse words, no “F-words” or no use of a deity. The next rating up will be 6-10 curse words, 1-5 F words, 1-5 G words etc and so on. You get the picture. If you want the broadest distribution for a mainstream work of fiction (think John Grisham) you’ll be judicious with language. On the other hand, if your work is graphic, the so too will be the language.

Once your book is rated, then the wide world of marketing programs and distribution is at your fingertips.

Which one to use?

My favorite is MyBookCave, both for ratings and then it has a distribution side. Promotions of all types, self-directed or opt-in for group promotions happen frequently in all types of genres, both free and paid. Specifically, for the reader, books can be free or paid, and for the author, some group promos are also free while others cost nominal amounts, such as $25.  

Formats

Unlike the major distributors, amazon, B & N, Kobu etc., MyBookCave requires epub and/or MOBI, along with PDF. For the broadest reach, have all three. This site can be run in conjunction with the Amazon, as well as other aggregators, such as Draft to Digital which I previously mentioned. Since I didn’t mention it before, D2D, is free to authors/publishers, and will allow you to reach 99% of the global ebook distributors in a single shot. Setting local prices is a single dashboard—the easiest and most effective ebook distribution site out there.

Google Play book catalog Reporting

Both MBC and D2D offer real-time reporting, just as Amazon or the others. For the publisher or author, it’s all at your fingertips, from uploading, sales, promotions and reporting. Go for it!

Not at dinner, please

On vacation at our favorite beachside resort in Northern Cancun, we are at the sushi bar, the four of us lined up, me and Rog bookending our girls who were in the middle. To my left, one seat down, was a bleach blond, sun-weathered man in his fifties, his belly ponch touching the counter, board shorts and flip flops in contrast with his two-toned Submariner Rolex. After a bit, we start talking, and soon enough, he’s engaged in telling us about the two-million-dollar catamaran he had built in France, sailed over, docked next door at the private marina, and was trying to penetrate the local cruise market. We listened to the travails of getting hotels to recommend his service, how his competitors incentivized (e.g. bribed) local shops not to take him on, and in general, how he hadn’t accurately anticipated the difficulties of a foreigner.

The captain and sushi bar patron

“But it’s so muchbetter than what I left behind,” he continued, the sake and spicy tuna getting thebetter of him. “Mynext door neighbor killed his wife, fled the country and ruined his kids’lives.”

Huh? What do youeven say to that, other than “you’re kidding,” while taking another bite ofsalmon.

“True story. Itwas in all the papers. You didn’t hear about it? It was the biggest story inNewport.” Northern Idaho is not real big on covering socialites in SoCal, weexplained, so he did it for us, and in the process, told us about his life as aluxury real estate agent, banking a lot of money without a notion of retiringuntil one day, the next door neighbors wife is found dead, and the man who heand his wife had thought of as good friends was accused (and ultimatelyconvicted) of murder. The impact was so devasting to this man, that it impactedhis own marriage, their kids (who were good friends), the ultimate result wasnot one, but two families torn apart by what, in the end, a common theme inmurders. Man has affair, man wants out, woman wants half, man kills wife, the end.

And this was all before we’d event gotten the baked clams!

swimming off the shores of Isla Mujeres

Thankfully, thegirls were preoccupied with their chopsticks, and I was retaining it all for afuture book. I’m a curious gal and didn’t hold back my questions regarding hislife changes following the incident.

“I left it allbehind,” he said, revealing the ex-wife, while staying in town until his sonswent to college. He decided life was short and he was going to follow hisdreams of having a catamaran business and live out his life without the ghostof his neighbor following him around.

Two courses later,he’d given us his card, offered our family a free afternoon on his boat, and wewent to bed thinking about all we’d heard. A few days later, skimming fromCancun to Isla Mujeres, sailing around Ricki Martin’s flamingo-colored home ona jetty only accessible by boat, we observed this man, his crew, the others on theboat, and the life-changing experience he shared.

The unreal is usually…real

“You can’t makethis stuff up,” I often tell fellow authors and readers who are bold enough tocontact me for my works of fiction. You know what? Half the time I don’t. Ijust happened to be someplace, start talking to someone and boom! I’m hearing astory that is simply—unreal—yet it’s real, like this one. Roger and I, being kindredspirits, looked him, and the incident up. Yep, real as the sun coming up. Blackand white. Tragic situation, sad outcomes, people trying to have the best lifethey can in the aftermath but…does it have to come up at dinner?

I guess the answer to that question is ultimately yes. Once the tip of the iceberg is spotted, it’s in my nature to look for what’s underneath. I can’t help myself. Add to this, I’m a people person and genuinely interested in another’s story, so I’m all in, no matter what’s said. Was I prepared for this? No. Was it appropriate for kids? Hardly. Yet it was the defining moment in this man’s life, and for good reason.

playing chicken with the big boys

In hindsight, had webeen poolside, chitchatting with our sunglasses on, legs stretched out, perhapsthe impact of the revelation would have been slightly minimized, convincing meof two things: I’m still curious and appreciate one’s life experience, but Ijust want to hear it anywhere but at dinner.

Changing Frequencies

Tuning out the noise to refine the inner signals

A world in chaos makes noise at so many levels, I visualize them as layers of signals shooting up in every direction, the invisible messages impossible to tune out, turn down or turn off entirely. Rare moments of silence exist—like sleeping, but even that can be disrupted if the household cellphone(S) aren’t on DND.

How then do we focus, be optimistic and serve to enlighten and help others? For some, part of the solution rests in time management. I’ve often used the example of having kids, an event which required time optimization. If I’m on the treadmill, I’m editing a book or going through required reading or work. The television is only on if I can on the floor, doing some form of physical activity, because I don’t have the time to do both separately. In Author Straight Talk, I detail time management tricks for completing that first novel, from writing during waiting periods at the school parking lot or doctor’s office, to outlining on the train and crafting new novels on the deck, beach or in bed when the house is quiet.

These techniques aren’t new to me but represent an example of purposeful use of time. When I’m purposeful, I start the day without the news, a sure-fire way to become distracted and emotional and mentally off course. Throughout the day, I substitute news and distracting music with chill, ambient or classical, because the lack of words and uplifting tones keep me going without making me want to get up and dance (or scream, depending on the news of the moment). Other commonly used techniques include meditating (rather hard for me), reading good books (e.g. scriptures) praying or even yoga—all activities typically done in quite, preserved spaces with little or no noise resulting in signal interference.

Amazing things happen once the noise is turned down or off completely. The inner signals, mental, emotional and even spiritual are better heard. I’m a big believer in promptings and the light within. A litany of famous figures who have talked about “moments of enlightenment.” I’ll give you Steve Jobs and Elon Musk among the many scientists and inventors who stand on the foundation of hard work and creativity when they experience the burst of an idea. It’s like a human radio tower standing high on a mountain without obstacles or interference that is eventually eclipsed by a satellite dish!

Regardless of the metaphor, great things happen when a person fine-tunes their inner signals. The communication becomes stronger, the sender-receiver connection faster and the frequency improves. The phrase emotional frequency, also known as the emotional vibration frequency, was first studied in Japan in the 1940’s. Scientists gave energy frequencies to plants and then people, documenting the reaction both to music, actions, images and sounds, recording the impact.

Over the decades, this initial effort has been studied around the world, to the point where specific emotions are given an energy reading in megahertz. Not surprisingly, the lowest energy emotions are fear and anger, while the second highest is love. The highest level is called enlightenment, a state so ideal it’s rarely achieved (and least statically recorded).   

Who doesn’t want to attain that level, at least for a split second during one’s life? A moment here and there, perhaps like Einstein, Jobs or Marie Curie, the first person, and only women to win the Noble Prize twice, and furthermore, did it in two different fields. Was she truly enlightened, an incredibly brilliant scientist or a mixture of the two, because her determination, natural and honed gifts all combined to create the perfect environment for moments of enlightenment to foster?

Madame Curie circ. 1920

One thing is sure: Madam Curie was able to tune out thedistractions of her time, which included war, suffrage, gender discriminationand cultural attitudes to focus on her inner signals, which very clearly weresending the message to create and innovate, changing the world forever.

From one lens, my (physical) sphere of influence is rather finite, but in the digital world, it’s global. I recognize the messages I send out through books, social media and other communications is the equivalent of a bowling ball hitting a smooth body of water, the ripple effects continue until the waves hit the shore. The same can be said of my author friend in Teeside, a small town in Britain, or another friend in Vienna, Austria. Both send out their digital signals to the world via social media, articles or books, influence the far corners of the world, including yours truly here in Northern Idaho.

Could you imagine what would occur if, if just an hour a week,sixty-minutes, were noise-free, and the inner signals were allowed to surfaceand then refined? Then imagine if that same signal were refined with additionalhours? I imagine energy and ideas flowing a new, blessing everyone in a localand perhaps global sphere. That vision alone brings up my energy level.

Tumors, butterflies and my hand-built eternal home

A heart attack and the removal of two tumors were the lowlights of the holidays and the reason for going dark. When I stop posting, you know something’s up. The Internet rule of thumb is good news gets posted, bad news doesn’t. My family has dealt with, and complained, about this tendency of mine for decades now, starting in college. But what’s a girl to do? Times get tough, I bury my head in work, endure through the challenge, and like the ground hog, pop out when the sky is warm and the coast is clear.

The heart attack

No, it wasn’t me, but my younger brother. This just about devastated my mother, who still hasn’t recovered from my older bro dropping dead in the ER, his wife having a sixth sense something was amiss after a hot yoga class. Two things saved his life: the cardiovascular doc literally being in the ER when he fell over, jolted him back to life, and subsequently put in 7–count them seven-stints. The lesson learned from this: stress creates a toxin which turns into artery-lining (name). Not good.

That was a year ago, so it was just DeJa’Vu when it occurred the week of Christmas. Once again, the life-saving jolting was used and he’s alive to eat healthier, work out and see his children graduate.

The tumors

Mom was to have left us after Christmas, but that changed Dec 26th when I learned that the small, unsightly lumps I’d thought were balls of fat turned out to be golf-ball sized tumors. Half-way through the exam, the surgeon (who was in fact, standing in for a different physician who was stuck in a snowstorm) said he was scheduling immediate surgery for the 28th. So it was that instead of skiing, two, massive tumors taken out of my leg, leaving me with three layers of stiches and the inability to do much for the entirety of January.

Poor mom

Seriously, the woman’s 83. Can she get a break in life already? It’s not about me or my siblings, what about her emotional health? I tease her that God isn’t ready to have her back quite yet, because she needs to have a bit more faith it’s all going to be okay. Worrying doesn’t help, praying for peace does, and we experience testimony-building situations to increase our own faith, broaden our perspective and give us courage we can use and share with others.

She doesn’t get that, not really. Mom gets angry. She’s prayed. Pled. Cried. Cursed. She’s experienced the emotional cycles dozens (hundreds?) of times throughout the decades on behalf of her children and grandchildren, each time with the fear, worry, concern, dread and doubt.

I don’t have that kind of stamina. It’s more like: challenge, solution, faith endure and find joy where you can, when you can. Then boom, I’m out the other side. Sometimes that journey takes days, other times it’s years, but looking back, the time it took was required for the lesson to be learned.

In the case of the heart attack, it was the reality check required for my brother to examine his own life and the way he was living it. As to the tumors, part of me said: “Really? Didn’t I just have this experience three years ago? Wasn’t that enough?” That pity party lasted about a day; then it was – well, that’s my present challenge. The solution is surgery, and in the meantime, I’m gonna give it to God, because i havee to ready the kids for school, get to work, get writing my next novel, do the laundry and handle the myriad of life activities that squeeze personal pity-party thoughts. That’s the endurance part, where the tumors get folded in as just another thing to deal with on this journey of life.

Another rebirth

Butterflies have it easy. They come out of the cocoon, fly around and have a great life then it’s over. Us humans have the altered life wherein every challenge can be viewed as a rebirth of sorts, each time affording us the opportunity to be enveloped by God’s embrace, His loving arms around us, holding us tight, keeping warmth in while repelling the evil that seeks to attack and poison us. Then we emerge, strong and beautiful, ready once again to fly into the world.

In my situation, I’d been mentally stuck for months, caught between the reluctance of starting another novel, supporting a new high-technology venture and balancing family. Strangely, I struggled, and it wasn’t clear to me why. I’ve had to deal with these fighting priorities for years, always adjusting and balancing the three legs of the stool on which my life sits. Constantly, I prayed, wondering and asking what I could be doing differently, what was I missing, where was I to put my efforts?

Nothing. That was my answer, which I interpreted as–just endure. Keep your head down, stay the course, have faith, and ultimately, “I got you.”

Now, as I’ve looked back, the Lord did answer my prayer, it just came in the form of two, disconnected events which snapped my reality of mortality back into place. Nothing is more clarifying than when you have to ask hard questions:

Will I ever walk again? Has this spread to my bone? Will I lose a leg over this? Will my husband and I be able to resume intimate activities if I’m permanently altered? How hard will it to learn to ski with one leg? When one has been so damaged from internal issues, and loses the ability to walk for months, then endures years of pain, 24×7, until finally…and recently…achieving 24 hours without a pain pill…the notion of going back to it all, and living that life again is in itself, overwhelming.

Yet, that’s what the Lord wanted me to experience; the diagnosis, along with the resulting processing of the news. That examination led to appreciation which allowed me to face (yet another) new challenge with a deeper faith. With my family and lots of sustaining prayers, I got through it.

Then the gifts began. Clarity returned, priorities crystalized, gratitude shot through the roof. I can walk (after JUST two weeks). The pain is mild (only periodic pills). I’m not completely deformed (and really, who should be looking at my inner thigh anyway??). The writing has come rushing back, the breakthrough complete. And even this blog, a place that has been largely absent of expressions other than book updates, recipes and travel-logs is now being used as a communication tool to help others who may need a bit of faith-building comraderies.

The test

I’ve not been allowed to do much of anything for six weeks, so yoga is on the schedule in the next few days. The underlying tissue is tender, but I’m not experiencing the “don’t-do-it” impressions I’ve had in the past, what I call God’s little warning signals. Skiing is up next, which will be another milestone

…the “don’t-do-it” impressions, what I call God’s little warning signals.

The best part, which I’m so thankful for, is that these life-challenges, experiences, whatever one calls them, can be more than something to ‘endure,’ but to be embraced. Increased love, tenderness and compassion are like cement between the bricks of faith I’m personally creating and using to build my eternal home. Do I yearn or pray for physical pain? No, but I don’t fear it. I look at these growth opportunities as the straw and mud required to create additional blocks. My vision is that each issue/challenge helps me build another…and another. All the way, my Father in Heaven is cheering me on, giving me coaching, conveying to me He knows me and wants me there. He also knows I can do more than endure. I can be thankful and find joy in tough circumstances. Over the years, instead of asking why, challenging or being belligerence has given way to praising His name as He helps me build each brick better than the one before. Ultimately….and hopefully….the house will be ready, built strong and sure, until the day comes that I will enter it and find Him on the other side.

Walking the cemetery

Walking around the cemetery in the rain wasn’t the community service I’d imagined. Instead of a cold, crisp day spent with eager eleven-year-olds raking leaves and drinking cider, it was a soaking wet slog that morphed into a layered experience of hearing about life decisions, choices and legacy, for those under the ground and us walking above them.

“Take care not to walk on the gravestones,” intoned the sexton, or cemetery custodian as they are called, his dark eyes focusing on the impatient boys shuffling between the tombstones. “They represent someone’s brother, mother, sister, dad or infant. Respect that and respect them.” He emphasized the point by hunching his broad soldiers, completely oblivious to the drizzle that evolved to a hard rain, his cotton pullover doing nothing to prevent the moisture that seemed to be running from my hood straight down to my boots. “Let’s start.”

Each war has its own section; this is the Spanish-American war

“I thought we were going to be raking,” whispered one of the girls in my group. Me too.

For an hour, we went from one corner of the large cemetery to the other as Robert pointed out historical facts: the sections for soldiers in three different wars, the area reserved for the infants of the Spanish influenza which claimed the lives of over seven hundred children.

Flat stones represent the children’s section

I watched the man’s eyes squint as he held back tears describing gluing the marble wings back on the angle when it was half-crushed by a tree during a windstorm. “We made her whole and the angel came back,” he said. Those closest joked about the comment, to which he snapped his head their direction. “She came back,” he repeated, the words emerging as a grumble, silencing the students.

31 residents perished in the fire of 1931

“Do you believe in ghosts?” asked Brooks, a tall, ganglyboy who’d been put up to the question by a teacher standing near me.

“Nah, I don’t give that much credit.”

He lied of course. Anyone who has worked in a cemetery for overa decade and intends to work another seventeen years until retirement not onlybelieves in ghosts, but wouldn’t deign to use that term.

“You believe in spirits,” I said to him during a moment of privacy as we walked to another station. He glanced at me, one eyebrow cocked, ascertaining my position on the subject. “I saw your eyes tear up during your mention of the angel wings,” I offered, “and maybe no one else noticed when you were talking about the seven hundred infants, but you choked up.” He nodded his head, admitting to it. “You have children of your own?” I asked, already guessing he didn’t.

“Two step-children. None of my own.”

“Well, you have about seven hundred here.”

The gloss of his eyes visible even through the heavy rain, his emotions at the surface and his agreement clear. “This is my second home and they’re part of it.” Seeing that I was of his persuasion, we talked about the notion that the spirits of the dead live around us, choosing when and to whom they make themselves known. We discussed the things he’d seen, the special experiences he wouldn’t typically share, my life as an author giving me the ability to write about truth while cloaking it as fiction. Early in his tour, he’d revealed he was a newspaper journalist before this job, burning out from cynicism before wanting a change. He’d found it; a reason for living among the dead.

The walking tour is free with self-guided pamphlets full of information

During the fifteen-station, hour-long traipse in the rain, he described the process of internment (putting the body in the ground) and exhuming (taking it out) in graphic detail, such as needing to burn your clothes if you’d been involved in an exhumation. He related the thickness of the cement, double-stacking of bodies, corrosion and other bits related with the precision of a forensics examiner but the empathy of a priest. He was both annoyed and pragmatic about the youth-driven need to gain bragging rights by pushing over a seven-hundred pound headstone, unbothered it horrified and offended the living relatives or that it took a special tractor and two men to set it right.

Walking through the middle section, one tombstone caught my eye. It was K27, the call number for a young police officer killed six years by a convicted felon. Echoing the words of a local officer, not a day goes by that I don’t see a dozen cars with the sticker remembering St. Greg Moore who was shot in cold blood. This occurred just one month before we moved to town, and the community was still in shock; CDA is a place of few shootings or even crime; to have a person killed at all rocked the area.

A community still mourns and supports its fallen officer

His retelling of a recently-deceased local businessmen, (who was apparently equally loved and despised) was done with a single story which summed up the man’s legacy. As the man was going to “purchase” (raid/takeover was the general consensus) another newspaper, he was late to the meeting. This sexton, who worked for him at the time, found the man bent over the planter boxes in the front of the building.

“I want my new business to reflect the attitude of the company,” his boss told him. The take-away to those of drenched listeners was that the man lived up to his reputation: precise and ruthless, but endowed with focus, passion and pride in all that he did. If he was going to be involved, it was going to be the best of his abilities, and he had no issue getting on his knees, in the dirt, in his suit pants, to start even before he’d written the check.

As we neared the end of the tour, I found anotheropportunity to stand beside this man, away from the others.

“Did this job find you, or did you find it?” I asked.

“Both.” He hinted at his situation in life and how he’devolved from a hard-charging, iron-pumping man focused on all that materialpossessions with a matching body and attitude to the lead caretaker of cemeteriesand parks in the area. “I needed something different at a time when they neededme.”

And by they, I knew what he meant. They were all around us.

He told a story of a man who’s wife had passed, and he wasplacing the marble box with her askes into the final resting place, aman-height, square edifice with ten compartments across and eight tall known asa columbarium.

“She’s going to get cold,” the husband told this cemeterysuperintendent. “She always gets cold, and I want her to be warm.”

Robert was unfazed. “I’ll find out a blanket,” he said, excusing himself. “When I returned, we wrapped the blanket around the marble box holding her askes, and slid it within the columbarium. I told him she’d be warm now and he finally felt at peace enough to leave.”

One of several columbarium’s

The man left, but Robert the cemetery sexton will be there,watching over the memorials, at least for the next seventeen years.

“And then what?” I wondered to myself if the next sextoncare as much, see as much and protect those remains placed underneath or above,someday to retell stories about us.

Raising money for your business

Raising money is a job conducted by millions of people every year.  A new bakery, a restaurant or coffee shop requires equipment and inventory, an automotive repair business, home goods retailer, home-based business or start-up software company all need initial and sometimes on-going outlay before hitting profitability. Depending on the nature, size and trajectory, a business may need only a few hundred bucks or few hundred million.

Individuals raising money are short on time and want bullet point lists, not a monologue of stories. Here are a few unorthodox ways to find dollars for your endeavor that have helped me raise over $300M over my career.

Board memberships and Associations

Board memberships are low-hanging fruit, because the organization is very proud to identify the board members. In a well-intentioned effort to be “transparent,” emails are often listed for each board member. There you have it. So the attempt to get to the high-net worth individual can be found in about five-ten minutes of searching board positions.

Associations are even better because usually, those individuals also have cell or direct phone numbers listed. Like board members, these folks usually have full-time jobs/businesses that are completely unrelated to the association, but going that route gives you what you need to have the first conversation.

Legal documentation

This is a goldmine for contact information while allowing you to channel your inner CSI. It all starts with searching on the name of the target or his/her company, board member or other affiliation with the key word “legal.” Including that one word can open a plethora of contact info, particularly email. Why? Because so much legal activity is placed on the Internet for all to see, sometimes by the courts, other time by people interested in making the goings-on public. Let me attest that I’ve found the CEOs of the largest firms, most reclusive wealth management people, public figures and people in between through published documentation which includes emails. A rule of thumb: the higher profile and greater the wealth, the higher the likelihood that person is going to be involved in, or the target of litigation.

A rule of thumb: the higher profile and greater the wealth, the higher the likelihood that person is going to be involved in, or the target of litigation

Now, you’d think that these emails would be long-since changed.Rarely. It’s because the person(s) named or even tangentially a part of the activitiesaren’t aware their personal information is being used, let alone published, orperhaps they mistakenly believe the documents won’t be released, and if theyare, the attorneys will scrub the contact information. (What attorney is paidto scrub info before it’s released? They are paid to win the case, not monitor whatthe courts publish).

Tribute articles

No, this is not for one to inquire about the family of the deceased. Quite the opposite. Depending on the individual, other peers, or business associates are often quoted.

This last year, I happened to come across an article on a prominent businessman who amassed millions over his lifetime. Quoted in the tribute was another man who I’d never heard of before. I googled him (who doesn’t?) and learned he owns one of the largest big equipment machinery business in the world. After I delved into his background (thanks again google), watched a video or two and read more articles, it was clear he’d be an interesting funding candidate.

School and other business associations

Once again, you have multiple entities who are proud to identifysponsors, donors, partners and successful alumni. Any or all can be sources ofcontact information. In some cases, you can leave messages with a pitch and therequest to contact will be passed along. It’s a good (and bad) trait thatnon-profits and schools have this thing about being nice and forwardingmessages, which may come across to the non-business person as strange. It’snot. You (the person leaving the message) could be a donor or a sponsor as well.It’s not the receptionists job to know or determine your motivation, but to behelpful.

Combination of tactics

In the case of the big equipment owner, he was one of four men quoted in the article. One by one, I looked them up, determined who fit my desired profile for funding and narrowed it down to one. I  immediately delved into his board memberships. From there, I discovered not just his personal email, but his cell phone! I held onto it for a few days, then at precisely 11 am on a Thursday, I felt a strong impression to call. Sure enough, he was home, convalescing from surgery, lying on a couch and answering the phone. We ended up speaking for nearly an hour, during which time we learned of our commonalities (family with addiction issues) our commitment to the community (he as a big supporter of the Boys and Girls Club, us with abused women/children)…pretty much anything but business. It was the start of a great connection, and it was all due to reading an article, tracking down the board membership/contact info and calling.

Don’t forget the Hedgehog

No. Not the animal. The strategic model used worldwide to identify the alignment between organizations, but is commonly applied to a variety of pursuits. It was first introduced by the great Jim Collins, and is a key to creating a value proposition between the entities seeking and giving money.

In short, it comes down to passion, economic engine (fit) and skill. Whether you are on the small end of the dollars or the very largest, an investor is going to place money based upon these criteria. One can have the money and fit, but no passion for what you are going to bring to market. The deeper and stronger the alignment across these three areas, the more money you are likely to get.

You and your investor(s) can be aligned across one or two, but three is required best


What doesn’t work

Instagram, Facebook and other forms of social media are rabbit holes that rarely get you to the decision maker or target contact. If the person is a public figure (think athlete, singer, comedian, news figure), a social media coordinator with little or no authority is managing the account. It’s rare that a person in this role will forward your outreach.

I’ll give a recent example: as an experiment, I contacted a mixture of those categories mentioned above, 112 to be precise, using a customized message for each. Approximately 9% blocked direct messaging. Of the remainder, I received 4 ‘likes’–meaning whoever was on the other end, coordinator or primary contact, liked what I had to pitch (we’ll just take it at face value) but wasn’t going to respond. Of the remaining, two people responded. The IG accounts were athletes for the NFL and MLB, one current and the other retired, both MVPs and very well known.

Further correspondence revealed the NFL athlete wasn’t handling his own Instagram, but a coordinator who had to come clean with me when it was time to sign a non-disclosure agreement. The former major league baseball player, (quite famous for his role in the world series) was–and is–to this day, the only person I’ve come across who manages his own Instagram. He kindly forwarded me to his business manager.

The final statistics? 112 outreaches, one meaningful contact. That’s a terrible ratio when considering looking up an article and reaching a multi-millionaire in a single phone call. The epilogue: The manager for the MLB player revealed a big chunk of his money ($8M) was going towards his new business in he food and beverage industry.

Going back to the hedgehog model, he had the skill and the passion, but not the economic fit to participate. As the entrepreneur or person responsible for bringing in the money, you want to get to this point of understanding as quickly and cost effectively as possible.

It only takes one

Success in this world (raising money, strategic partnerships, biz dev) is part strategy (the fit/the why), tactics (how you are making the contact) the pitch and then building the relationship. My brilliant husband pointed out that it’s also personality and fearlessness. True–but let’s take this one step at a time. The personality of the entrepreneur, or those on the front line is a combination of belief, determination (fortitude and never-say-die) attitude. If you already have these traits, go forth and conquer. If not, build them bit by bit, and with each call and outreach, you’ll get better. Above all, remember this: the mantra that trumps all: it only takes one. One positive response to keep your enthusiasm level high. One yes for the initial money. One person to be a passionate believer and introduce you to others. In the end, if you have a good idea or product, and the market needs what you are offering, keep going until you have the one.

The face of joy

Surveying the audience right before I start my talk, I look around the room, stop and pause to make eye contact for the standard 2 seconds, then continue roving. Eyes, jowls and body posturing reveal impatience, as though a fire is breaking out at the office and they know it’s going to be a full-blown crisis. Some can barely keep their lids from dropping and a few have the vacant, I really-need-help expressions. And those with joy—the eager, I’m so-glad-I’m-here and I’m going to eek every bit of wisdom out of this room and conquer the world are about 1% of the group. Those are rare gems that shine so bright, it’s as though the very lights from above can’t keep from focusing their attention upon them.

As my sister said this morning, “Everyone is looking for more happiness and joy.” She had a good point. Does anyone ever say: “I’m full up with happiness. I don’t need anymore?” Chocolate and push-ups, yes, each eventually has a limit, but joy? Nope. I haven’t heard that one lately.

Nice philosophy but…

How do you find joy when you come home from a business trip and find the house has been emptied by your husband, who also took your two-year-old son? What does joy look like when you lose everything due to poor financial decisions or someone else’s actions? Your parents split up after 60 years together? Your father-in-law staggers one day and within the year is dead from brain cancer? Your daughter awakes to find her three chickens have been gutted by a chicken hawk, the entrails splayed out for all to see? (good morning!)

Okay, so that last one was so horrible, but it’s also funny in hindsight (my daughter was ten). It was addressed, as many one-off challenges can be, but have you noticed that quite often, joy (or lack thereof) isn’t found in one, singular event, but the combination of many? The “little things” are small pebbles of badness that add up to an Everest-like challenges; the stress-induced hair loss, depression-related weight gain or worse, divorce and heart-attacks might have been prevented if the pebbles were removed along the way.

Get up, get focused and stay with it

This may come as a shock to those who know me, but I’ve gone into the bedroom, closed the door, pulled the covers over and closed my eyes as much as the next person. In other words, I “go-fetal” for a time. You think fired news anchors act like nothing happens the first day they don’t have a job? Nope–I bet they go fetal just like the rest of us.

Breaking the pity party involves forced activity, stepping one pace away from sadness and depression towards a better tomorrow. My mantra is that “No one’s going to fix me, so I have to do it myself.”

If you find you can’t get out of bed, start by praying. When I’m feeling backed into a corner, the prayer is simple: all I have to give is a smile, so please Lord, let the recipient of that smile need it as much as I need to give it. The alarm goes off at 5:45 am. Instead of sleeping for another ten, I use that time to pray.

Today, both prayer and action were answered by the large cross-eyed checker with the expansive, clear face mask. We were talking about the holidays when another checker (male, nice looking) mentioned that a woman had given him a gift for being so helpful, and in return, he’d given her a large bag of fresh raspberries (this kind of thing happens in Idaho). My checker volunteered that her birthday is December 16th (to no one in particular) and it occurred to me how much easier it might before a customer to give thanks to a nice looking, single (albeit 50-something) man than a much younger woman of large stature who was just as pleasant. Imagine her surprise if someone put a little joy in her life on that day just because? Secondarily, would I have known had we not been chit-chatting about nothing more than holidays?

Don’t focus on where you began, but where you are going

I recently listened to a talk and it had a great sentence I made sure to write down, then went back and listened to the entire thing (12 min).

“Let me share two areas of encouragement for those facing difficult starting circumstances. First, focus on where you are headed and not where you began. It would be wrong to ignore your circumstances—they are real and need to be addressed. But over focusing on a difficult starting point can cause it to define you and even constrain your ability to choose.”

What a wonderful reminder–don’t get caught up in what brought you to this point, but concentrate on going forward, learning from mistakes while putting good energy towards your goal.

Thinking back to this morning at the checkout counter. Had I not made the choice to be pray, be an active conduit for good energy, I’d never had the conversation. I recall smiling a bit larger at her because I now know two things I didn’t when I woke: her name (Heidi) and her birthday. Those two facts brought joy to my life, proving that little things can also be pebbles of goodness. It’s now my job to stack one upon another and keep the momentum going.

Enlightenment, Entrepreneurship and “Honoring the Spirit”

Moments of brilliance experienced by entrepreneurs often attribute their success to ‘honoring the spirit’

Recently a dearfriend told me about an experience she had with her estranged father. After notspeaking with him in over a year, she called him up out of the blue. Giventheir traumatic and dysfunctional relationship, I inquired as to what promptedthe action.

“It had been on mymind incessantly, and I finally realized I had to honor the Spirit and do it.”

That begat a week or so of thinking about the phrase and concept. I’ve heard it referenced many a time, particularly when speaking with grossly people who in concert, relate a time when a ‘moment of brilliance’ or ‘enlightenment’ occurred. I thought of Steve Jobs, the devout atheist, who often called his ideas moments of enlightenment, a term I much prefer over the commonly-use “a-ha” moment of many-an-entrepreneur.

What faith-oriented people assign to the “the Spirit,” the “Holy Ghost,” or “divine promptings,” to name just a few, non-faith oriented people will say was a “gut impression,” “intuition,” or “circumstance,” among others. In the last year or two, even these words and phrases have been put six feet under, replaced with trendier terms like “ideation.” Even the “a-ha” moment has been retired.

Going back to my dear friend, I asked her what occurred during the conversation with her father, essentially wanting to know if the drama of the discussion was worth the effort of “honoring the spirit.”

“Absolutely,” she confided. Her father had learned he had lymphoma, it was spreading and may not have long to live. This prompting to call her father allowed her to talk and gain a level of closure and compassion she’d not had in many years.

Dispute, ignore, dishonor and suffer the consequence

Several years ago, I interviewed fifty executives from over thirty industries. Two billionaires were mixed in with millionaires, representing different races, religions and sexual orientations working in a variety of industries. I had twenty five questions and very soon, trends began surfacing.

“What made yousuccessful?” I’d ask. The answers fell into three categories a) faith or beliefin /self, b) determination/never-give-up attitude and c) gut/spirit/promptingsas being key to their achievements.

When they didn’thonor their promptings, dire consequences followed.

One such example is from a self-made millionaire I’ll call Brandt who started from nothing to build a $750M manufacturing and real estate empire in the seventies. (Back when $750M was a lot of money). When I asked Brandt if he could identify any particular secret of success, he immediately said:  “listen to the Spirit.” Being the curious soul that I am, I asked if that was literal or figurative.

“Oh no, it’s literal.” Brandt described himself as a man of faith, and in his particular world (real estate and development but later in life, he ventured into manufacturing), he said that “listening”  had been one of his cornerstones of success. His most vital decisions had been based on ‘listening’ and was of primary importance when considering a new deal or hiring an employee.

“I’d always thinkabout it, sometimes overnight, pray, and then listen to the Spirit to guideme.” He went on to relay that many times, what his advisors recommended andwhat he knew in the business world was in fact, correct. But it wasn’t uncommonfor him to ‘have a bad feeling,’ ‘a feeling of warning’ or ‘trepidation,’ thatsteered him away from the candidate or opportunity. Sometimes, “it was anabsolutely don’t do this,” and then a few times, it was a “very strongfeeling I should do it, when the paperwork indicated otherwise.”

“Did you everignore this impression to your detriment?” I asked. Brandt laughed.

“Of course, and itwas awful.” He described a candidate for a regional president position. “Heliterally was perfect on paper and in person,” Brandt emphasized. Even so, hehad “an awful feeling,” but couldn’t help himself and hired the man anyway.“There was no reasonable answer for how I felt so I ignored it.”

If only moments of enlightenment were as obvious as the sun shining down

The following sixmonths were so bad, the entire region almost went under. Brandt described theman’s management style, how he related to customers, his lack of communicationand taking responsibility. So damaging was this person’s impact an entire fleetof managers left, a good many employees departing as well. Customers fled, andworse, the man didn’t want to exit the company, which led to a lawsuit. Theposition was poisoned for new candidates who envisioned it not as a thrivingregion but as a turnaround situation with unhappy customers, no staff andlittle confidence that ‘management’ knew how to hire good people.

“You don’t need to have many of those experiences to learn to ignore everyone else and trust your own guiding light.”

It’s rarely convenient to act

One week, I’d had the feeling to call my cousin who I’d not seen or spoken to in about six months. I was busy with kids, so was she, we both had jobs. The list of reasons why “not to bother her,” was endless. Finally, four weeks later, well after the promptings stopped, I called. In other words, when it was convenient for me. It turned out that those days when I was impressed to call, my cousin was in the hospital, alone, facing the news that her five months fetus had died inside her. Because of the size, he had to be delivered vaginally. She was in the hospital alone, her husband unavailable, her parents in another state unable to travel. The Lord was telling me to reach out to her in desperate time of need and I ignored it. Let me tell you, the hours I’ve spent crying and regretting that period. The upside, if there is one, is that to this day, the experience is front and center of why I listen, and how I act even when I don’t want to or it’s not convenient.

Years later, my oldest brother called me on a Friday night. This successful yet troubled soul was a recovering addict, and even receiving his calls caused massive stress on my part, for I never knew what I was going to encounter. As the phone rang, I sat looking at it, willing it to stop ringing. Suddenly, I had an overwhelming feeling I must take the call. It triggered the event with my cousin and I immediately picked up the phone. As feared, my brother was extremely incapacitated, but I stayed with it, and after an hour, he started to normalize. He shared many heartfelt experiences from our younger days and words of gratitude for the relationship we’d once had, apologizing for hurts of the past and asking for forgiveness. The call was still hard, but as I was to discover later, it was closure, for he took his own life within a few days. Had we not had that conversation, I’d be left with a gaping hole of unresolved issues.

It’s rarely about the money

In my writing life, I can sense when I’m getting to close “to the line” I’ve set for myself or the readers. That means intimate scenes, wherein I want the blood to move a little quicker but not boil or be embarrassed if someone were to look over your shoulder. Fast-paced doesn’t mean gore. Switching worlds, in the corporate world, where I still live half the time, that means I “listen” to when I should or shouldn’t call a person to pitch a new business idea or venture. It’s just a feeling that “no isn’t the right time,” or conversely, “call right now.” Just recently, I’d tracked down a reclusive billionaire’s cell phone, but sat on it for a nearly two weeks. It just hadn’t felt right to call. Then one morning (it was a Thursday), I was standing in front of the fridge, pondering my next meal, when I heard this “stop everything and call him now!”

I did. He picked up. I pitched him. We spoke for nearly ninety minutes, adn at the end, he invited me to lunch on Monday. He’s now involved in a deal I’m putting together, and better than that? He’s become a friend, like the grandfather I never had but always wanted.

It’s hard being quiet and listening about the “little things”

Another recent case was the prompting to grab the checkbook for an event. I distinctly remember thinking this is ludicrous, because I don’t use a check from one six-month period to another. Yet when I arrived at the event, the credit card system was down (the entire operations were down) I had no cash and they were only accepting checks. An associate paid my bill, so again, it wasn’t the end of the world, but it was inconvenient.

Little things include giving credence to ideas or thought which seem so silly, random or unnecessary in the moment. Grabbing additional books before I head out the door when I had no intention to stop at a retailer, only to find four hours later I received a call from a manager asking me to drop by because they sold out (two week ago). Was it the end of the world? No. But it would have saved me 2 hours and forty miles round trip. Perhaps these inspirational and directional moments of guidance are like that, but one has to stop, realize and act, and that, I believe, is when the real magic begins.