Too Busy to be Happy?

Did you know a Harris Poll reports only 31% of Americans say they’re happy? An exhausted business owner told me yesterday, "I'm too busy to be happy."

I told him, "Please rethink that. Happiness doesn't take TIME, it takes ATTENTION."

How about you? Would you say you’re happy?

I've discovered something surprising - and saddening - in my interviews with hundreds of people in the last few years for my upcoming book SOMEDAY is Not a Day in the Week.

Many people feel they have too much going on to be happy. They have too many responsibilities, too many to-do's. They just don’t have the time.

That entrepreneur told me, “My wife and I work full-time in our business and we have two kids with special needs. We go non-stop seven days a week. Maybe someday I’ll be happy. I don’t see that in the near future.”

Ouch.

What I’ve learned is that whether or not you describe yourself as “happy” depends a lot on how you define it. (More on that here.)

It also depends on whether you feel you have time for it.

Please understand, happiness doesn’t have to be “happy, happy, joy, joy" like that Peanuts cartoon image of Snoopy leaping in the air, clicking his heels (paws?) and doing a happy dance. It can mean:

* feeling peaceful, content, satisfied.

* being present and quietly grateful to be alive.

* looking at the person you’re with – or the people you’re around – and being really glad to have them in your life.

* getting up from your chair, going outside for a moment and reveling in your health and freedom of movement.

* connecting with an idea, song or painting and marveling at humanity’s artistry.

In other words, happiness doesn’t take time, it takes attention.

When I asked that young dad whether he kept a gratitude journal (which a Harvard study shows is a shortcut to happiness), he said “You don’t get it. Our sons wake up several times a night. We never get more than five hours of sleep and we’re going from the moment we get up to the moment we go to bed. Who’s got time??”

I nodded, “I understand that adding anything to your maxed-out life isn’t an option. What if, instead of counting your blessings, you started noticing them? The first one takes time, the second one doesn’t.”

He told me, “It’s worth a try.”

Agreed. Happiness is worth a try.

Is your life maxed out? Are you going from the moment you wake up to the moment you go to bed? Do you tell yourself you’ll be happy someday when you’re not so busy?

Please understand, you don’t need more time to be happy.

You’ll never have more time than you have right now.

Stop wishing you had more time and start paying more attention.

The happiness you seek is available any time you want … for a moment’s notice.

You can be happier and more grateful right here, right now at a moment’s notice and in a moment’s notice.

All you need to do is to be more alert to, and appreciative of, what’s right with your world instead of what’s wrong.

You don’t even have to COUNT your blessings. All you have to do is NOTICE them.

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Sam Horn, CEO of the Intrigue Agency and TEDx speaker, - is on a mission to help people create a quality life-work that adds value for all involved. Her books - Tongue Fu! POP! and Washington Post bestseller Got Your Attention? - have been featured in NY Times, Forbes and on NPR and taught to Boeing, Intel, ASAE, Cisco, Accenture, NASA. Want Sam to speak to your group? Contact Cheri@intrigueAgency.com

Day Right Quote 55: To Love and Be Loved is to Feel the Sun From Both Sides

David Viscott said, "To love and be loved is to feel the sun from both sides." So true.

One of the most important lessons-learned from my Year by the Water is that it is NOT always better to GIVE than RECEIVE.

It is better to give AND receive.

So many of us are so busy doing and giving to others, we don't allow them to give to us.

There is a grace in giving and a grace in receiving.

Connection is a two-way street.

Are you enjoying and being blessed by BOTH sides of the sun?

david viscott

Day Right Quote #52: There Is No Such Thing As an Ordinary Day

Dan Millman and his book "Path of the Peaceful Warrior" was one of our favorite author-speakers at the Maui Writers Conference. His insight, "There is no such thing as an ordinary day" is as true today as it was 15 years ago.

It reminds me of the powerful line from Thornton Wilder's play "Our Town."

Emily, the lead character, has passed but gets to return home one last time. She watches her mother wash the dishes in the kitchen and realizes she never appreciated the little things - a normal day - while she had the chance.

She asks poignantly, "Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?"

So often we don't. We get swept up in busyness, rushing here, there and everywhere.

However, we are here now. It is not too late.

Look around right now and imprint this day. Really see your surroundings as if for the first or last time.

Drink in the sheer miracle of being alive - of being able to breathe, feel, hear, taste, touch, love, experience.

A moment of grace and deeply felt gratitude is a moment's notice away.

Dan Millman -no such thing as ordinary day

Day Right Quote #46: Slow Down. You Move Too Fast.

Thanks Simon and Garfunkel for this eloquent reminder to SLOW DOWN and make the morning (This moment? This day? This weekend?) last. What's the big hurry? The faster we go, the more we miss.

Stop right now. Look around. Really SEE someone or something as if for the first or last time.

Take a big deep breath. Imprint this moment. Send up thanks for all that's right with your world.

Gratitude is a moment's notice away.

The contentment we seek is on the other side of slowing down.

simon and garfunkel

Day Right Quote #19: I am Not LOST in Thought: I am FOUND in Thought

I understand the phrase "lost in thought," but it's more accurate to say I am "FOUND in thought." Some of the most deeply satisfying, connected, creatively productive moments of my life are when I'm thinking, musing, observing, appreciating and writing.

How about you?

I am not lost in thought, I am found in thought

Lesson #10. It Wasn't a Mid-Life Crisis; It was Mid-Life Clarity

When I announced my plans to embark upon my Year by the Water adventure, most people were happy for me and said something along the lines of, “Take me with you!” A few, however, expressed “concerns. A meeting planner cautioned me with, “Sam, I hope you know you’re taking a risk by taking yourself off the grid. You need to control this story or the business you’ve worked so hard to build may not be here when you come back. You know, you can’t put the genie back in the bottle.”

A highly successful investor told me, "I'm envious, but I could never just do nothing. I'd go crazy if I didn't work."

Another wanted to know, “Is something wrong?” In other words, “Are you sick, on your deathbed or just having a mid-life crisis?”

I listened to their concerns, and then assured them my decision to take my business on a road trip wasn’t a mid-life CRISIS, it was mid-life CLARITY. I was clear that:

I wasn’t QUITTING work – I was doing a different KIND of work.

I wasn’t doing NOTHING – I was doing SOMETHING that put the light on in my eyes just thinking about it.

There wasn’t anything WRONG with my life – I was taking steps to create a more RIGHT life.

And I certainly wasn’t going to hide this from my business community, I was going to invite them to come along so they could vicariously experience the adventures and insights with me.

What helped me get this mid-life clarity?

Well, a lot of things. One was something my son Andrew told me. Another was a health scare and the doctor warning me I better take better care of myself or my body would do something more drastic to get my attention.

Another was a variety of quotes that served as wake-up calls and motivated me to “get a move on.”

They included Paulo Coelho’s sober reminder, “One day you’re going to wake up and there won’t be any time left to do the things you’ve always wanted to do.”

Another was my clarity of how fortunate I am to be in a position to answer what called me.

I’m not one of the 65 million people (29% of the U.S. population) taking care of a chronically ill, disabled or aged friend or family member. I can operate my business from anywhere. And while I’m not independently wealthy, I’m wealthy in what matters. I have the health, freedom and autonomy to disrupt my life and do things differently.

There was nothing holding me back … so I took eighteen months to swim with dolphins, watch the sun rise over Diamond Head, take a photography workshop in Monet’s Garden, sail the Chesapeake Bay, drive the back-roads of America (and almost over a cliff on California’s Pacific Coast Highway) ... write about my experiences and epiphanies.

I will always be grateful for that adventure. It was one of the most deeply satisfying experiences of my life.

What I didn't anticipate was My Year by the Water ended up NOT being about the water.

Yes, I visited some of nature's wonders - oceans, waterfalls, mountain streams - but what made this experience so memorable and pivotal wasn't the places I visited; it was the disruptive epiphanies that challenged everything I thought I knew about what it takes to lead a meaningful life.

Aristotle said, “An unexamined life is not worth living."

Well, after going 24/7 for the past few decades, this trip gave me the time and space to reflect on my life.

What I discovered, much to my surprise, was that many of my life-long beliefs and behaviors like “It’s better to give than receive” and “Winners never quit and quitters never win” "Hard work is the secret to success" – were not contributing to a quality life; they were compromising it.

As a result of having time to examine what was working, what wasn’t and what I was going to do differently; my life has been enriched in ways that are better than I could have imagined.

I know you’re busy and may not have the incentive or resources to take a road trip.The good news? You don’t have to quit your job, win the lottery, get a divorce or walk away from your obligations to embark upon a "virtual" road trip. In my upcoming book Chase Meaning Not Clicks, you can vicariously experience those put-you-in-the-scene adventures in short chapters, all which can be read in under 10 minutes.

What's even better, ou don't have to wait for the book to come out in early 2018 to benefit from those insights. Here are my top ten lessons-learned. Hope they give you the CLARITY, incentive and inspiration to do more of what puts the light on in your eyes starting today ... not someday.

1. A Life We Love Is Often One Small Change Away

2. We’re Not Torn Between Two Worlds – We Have the Best of Both Worlds

3. Why Do We Keep Driving Into Hurricanes?

4. If We’re Lonely, We’re Not Paying Attention

5. Courage Is Trusting We Can Figure Things Out Along the Way

6. It’s Not Selfish To Put Yourself in Your Own Story

7. There Is No Present Like The Time To Do More of What Puts The Light On In Your Eyes

8. Figure Out What You Want to Do NEXT and Start Doing It NOW

9. Fun Is Not a Four-Letter Word

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One of the great joys of my life is having the opportunity to share my adventures/insights at conferences. If you're planning a program and would like a presentation that gives your participants an opportunity to connect, reflect, and identify what they can do to stop waiting and start creating a life where the light is on in their eyes, contact Cheri@IntrigueAgency.com. It'd be a pleasure and a privilege to share these inspiring stories with your group so they're creating the quality of life and work they want now, not someday.

it wasn't mid life crisis - it was midlife clarity image

Lesson #4 From My Year by the Water: We'll Not Alone, We're All One

I am driving from Houston to California for the third time and vow NOT to go through El Paso or take Route 10, ever again. When I get to a cross-road, I just took whatever road heads WEST. That choice sets up one of my favorite experiences of the entire trip.

Many people think of Texas as dry and barren, but its famous hill country surprised me with its rolling, sweeping vistas. I'm driving at my favorite time of day, golden hour, the gentle moments just before the sun goes down and the air calms and becomes a transcendent shimmery gold.

I crest a hill and discover a golden field stretched out in front of me to the horizon. In awe, I pull over and shut off the car engine. The only sound is a slight breeze through a nearby tree. Otherwise, it is majestically silent. I'm completely immersed in the moment. I feel blissfully connected. One with everything.

Connected? How could I feel connected? There's no one around.

But there's all kinds of connection. There's connection to the place, to the magnificence of nature, and to how grateful I feel for being alive and present in that moment.

I smile as I think about the most frequently asked question on my Year by the Water: "Don't you ever get lonely?”

The answer to that is a resounding NO. What I feel is … connected. Connected to my family and friends who are with me even when they’re not with me. Connected to the Audible books I listen to, to the places I've discovered, the people I've met, the experiences I've had.

People also asked if I get "bored" driving cross-country by myself.

Once again, the answer is an emphatic NO.

When I am driving along for hours (or days) at a time; I'm not bored, I'm 100% engaged in the ideas and stories shared by these insightful authors. I'm completely engaged in discovering and exploring new places, of never knowing what's over the next knoll.

It's crystal clear to me. If I ever feel lonely or bored; it means I'm not paying attention.

As I say good-bye - and thank you - to this sacred spot and drive away, I turn on the Audible book I'm listening to (Twyla Tharp's The Creative Habit) just in time to hear her say, “Every creative project needs a spine.”

What an intriguing insight. I wonder, "What's the spine of this adventure, of my life?"

The answer comes to me, clear as a bell, "Discovery is my North Star, connection is my Holy Grail. Loving and being loved is the spine of my life."

And what I know deep within my soul, as a result of this Year by the Water, is we don't have to be with other people to be engaged and connected - we just need to be alert and appreciative of the wonders that surround us, all day, every day.

We are never really alone. If we truly pay attention to our surroundings, we are all one. We are complete, content. The connection we seek is, literally and figuratively, a moment's notice away.

twyla tharp

Lesson #3 From My Year by the Water: Stop Driving Into Hurricanes!

The very first day of my adventure, I was driving to Chesapeake Bay to stay in a beachfront home a friend had graciously loaned me. The only problem? A hurricane was also headed there. As the winds whipped up and I could hardly see the road through the rainstorm, a thought bubble appeared above my head, "Why drive into a hurricane?!" Why to keep my commitment, of course. That's what I was taught to do. We keep our commitments - no matter what. . But this was unsafe. Maybe under the circumstances, it would be okay, even advisable, to "break a promise?"

I called my friend and told her I had changed my mind. She didn't hesitate, she said, "Good decision. There will be another, better time to stay at the beach-house."

An hour later, I was safely ensconced in a historic B & B in Annapolis, half-asleep under a fluffy down comforter. What a relief.

My epiphany? "Where else in my life am I automatically keeping commitments - out of habit or "integrity" - that were made long ago that are no longer relevant or healthy? Where else am I honoring promises I made to people who don't care if I change my mind; they may even applaud or be grateful for my decision?"

My friend Mary LoVerde says this has become a "go-to" phrase in her family. When she or one of her kids is about to head into a stormy situation, they stop and ask themselves, "Am I driving into a hurricane?"

If we know in advance we're heading into a hot mess, and we're doing it simply because we said we would, maybe it's wise to NOT DO IT. Maybe there are other options that are a win for all involved.

Sometimes it's not selfish to break a promise or opt out of a commitment; it's smart.

You may be thinking, "But we've got to keep our commitments. That's they only way people can trust us."

That makes sense and that's what I thought for thirty years. However, this experience opened my eyes to the fact that keeping commitments - no matter what - is not always optimal.

Honoring our "word" is an important characteristic. But a strength taken to an extreme can become our Achilles Heel.

If a relationship or commitment is not working anymore, if it's become toxic or stormy; if you wish you hadn't made this promise and want to change things; why not have a conversation with your client, colleague or partner to get their point of view?

Maybe they feel the same way. Maybe they have an idea on how to adapt or update the agreement so it works better for all involved. Maybe, together, you can come up with a more current, effective course correction and collaboration that benefits both of you.

A colleague told me this phrase, "Are we about to drive into a hurricane? WHY?!" has become part of their family lore.

For example, her daughter and son-in-law dreaded going to his parents' house for Thanksgiving because it was always a war zone. It was a day of uncles, aunts, and cousins all complaining and at each others' throat. Not a pleasant way to spend a holiday, yet this couple went year after year out of a sense of obligation. Even though it upset them to be in the midst of such conflict; they kept doing it because they'd made a commitment.

This past year, they got creative. They got in touch with his folks and invited them to join them on a different weekend at a timeshare they'd purchased. Instead of spending money on traveling to his parents' house for Thanksgiving, they offered to pay the grandparents' way to join them at this beach resort.

What a brilliant solution. The kids were happy because there was plenty to do at this oceanfront property, and the parents and grandparents were happy because they had together time without juggling everyone else's personalities and demands.

Next time you're about to drive into a hurricane, ask yourself, "Why? Are there options I haven't explored yet?"

You just might discover a better route, a new route, that bypasses the drama and trauma and ends up being a win for everyone.

stop driving into hurricanes

Lesson #2 From my Year by the Water: We're Not Torn Between Two Worlds; We Have the Best of Both Worlds

Years ago when my sons we're growing up on Maui, I felt torn between two worlds. I had two sons I loved and wanted to be with AND had a thriving speaking/training business that called for me to be on the road and in the air. At a National Speakers Association convention on the mainland, I ran into a long-time friend Maggie Bedrosian. We hadn't seen each other since I had left Washington D.C. for the Hawaiian Islands several years before.

Maggie asked, "Sam, how are you?" I started telling her. Before I could finish, Maggie being Maggie, (she must have been an impish elf and wise sage in another life) interrupted me and said, "No Sam, tell me in ONE WORD how you're doing."

Wow, what a great question. It forced me to distill everything I was feeling into one catchall phrase. I dug deep, opened my mouth, and out came "Maggie, I'm … conflicted."

Her eyebrows flew up. "Conflicted? How so?"

"Yesterday morning I was on Keawakapu Beach with Tom and Andrew at golden hour. They were charging into the surf with their boogie boards, riding those waves all the way in until they scraped their bellies on the beach, and then running out to catch another one. It was Nirvana. I didn't want to be anywhere else.

Today, I’m here at this conference surrounded by smart, talented peers, I'm learning new things, speaking on my favorite topic, my brain's on fire, and I'm humming with energy and new ideas.

I feel like I'm constantly torn between two worlds."

Maggie looked at me and then shared this insight. "Sam, the words you use to describe your experience define your experience. You better come up with another word to describe how you feel, because that's how it's going to be."

Smart woman.

That night I couldn't sleep. If I wasn't conflicted, what was I? I kept mentally tasting words, experimenting with them to see if they captured the mix of emotions I felt. Finally it came to me.

The next day I tracked down Maggie. There she was down the hall. I ran up to her and said, "Maggie, I figured it out. I'm not conflicted, I'm … blessed. I'm not torn between two worlds, I have the best of both worlds.”

That describes how I feel now.

I've just had 16 months of glorious adventuring, exploring, discovering, reflecting, and “funning” on my Year by the Water. (If “funning” isn’t a verb, it deserves to be.)

Now I'm here in Boulder holding my beautiful baby granddaughter Natalia in my arms. This morning I was sitting on the floor and playing Lego's with my grandson Mateo.

Last night I was sitting on the couch with Tom and Patty getting caught up, and as they say in Hawaii, “talking story.”

The day before, I was making nutritious greenies, doing “folding laundry meditation, and enjoying Dolores' (Patty's Mom) delicious home-made cooking.

This morning, Mateo is playing airplane on his own private jungle gym, (his dad) and watching his favorite Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood with his mom. It feels oh-so-right.

I look around and realize I once again am blessed to have the best of both worlds … and I wouldn't rather be anywhere else. I'm immersing myself in this abundance - this state of SerenDestiny where the light is on in my eyes - and I'm imprinting every sacred moment. Receive, receive, receive. Revel, revel, revel.

BTW - This recognition that I'm not torn being two options (either-or); I have the best of both options (yes-and) is one of the most important lessons-learned from My Year by The Water. I'll be writing about the adventures that led to this understanding in my upcoming book "There Is No Present Like the Time" including:

It’s not CONTROL OR COOPERATE. It’s both.

It’s not PLAY OR PRODUCTIVITY. It’s both.

It’s not SOCIAL OR SOLITUDE. It’s both.

It’s not start with the END in mind or with an OPEN mind. It’s both.

It’s not serve others or your self. It’s both.

Next time you’re feeling as if you're being torn between two options – re-frame what you’re feeling or facing. Isn’t it an advantage to have an abundance of options – to have the best of both worlds? You're not conflicted, you're blessed.

best of both worlds

There is No Present Like the Time

Thomas Wolfe was wrong. We CAN go home again. These past few weeks have been full in every sense of the word. Wonder-full. Meaning-full. Grateful. Spent Thanksgiving with my sister Cheri and her family in Los Osos, CA. It was wonderful just hanging out, watching football, getting in my morning "walk to the Rock", being inspired by an 81 year old woman swimming in the 52 degree bay, and eating Joe's bar-b-que.

Los Osos is where my folks lived the last years of their life, in a home overlooking the ocean, estuary and Morro Rock. Fond memories of a special Thanksgiving more than 20 years ago when Dad rented a ten person canoe and took all of us – Cheri, Joe and Christy, my sons Tom, Andrew and me – paddling around the bay amidst otters, seals and sea lions and pelican fly-bys. He also rented horses that weekend and we re-enacted a SoCa version of Lawrence of Arabia and galloped over the sand dunes.

Memories too of when Cheri was elected President of the local Chamber of Commerce, and Dad had the gratifying opportunity to know his legacy of community leadership was being passed along.

While there, I decided I was only 90 minutes away from where I grew up in New Cuyama and thought, "There’s no present like the time” to make like ET and "go home." Part of my Year by the Water has been intentionally visiting the places that have inspired or shaped me and my years here from 1st-9th grade certainly did that.

You know how you always hear how SMALL everything looks in your hometown? True dat.

The C & H store – which loyally bought our 4-H and FFA animals at the Santa Maria Fair every year – seemed so far away, yet it was less than a mile from our house. I remember tearing there in our hoopy (a golf cart we used to go to the barn and corrals to feed our horses, steers, sheep and hogs) to splurge and buy a can of chicken noodle soup, a Babe Ruth bar, a small packet of Fritos and a soda for under a dollar (our food allowance for a summer day.)

Here’s the high school (104 students on its busiest year) where I learned to play tennis by hitting thousands of balls against the backboard, and where Mr. Adams shaped some talent-shy kids into a decent jazz band. Memories of Cheri playing Pete Fountain’s Stranger on the Shore on her clarinet, Fascination on her saxophone, and us rockin it on String of Pearls, Glenn Miller's In The Mood and A-Train. cuyama high school

Here’s the shop where Dad, the ag teacher in town, spent long hours teaching 3 welding classes a day and building a 4-horse stock trailer from scratch. And the football field where we had our small-town version of "Friday Nigh Lights' with 6 man football. And the rec center where our small community gathered for roller skate nights, cake walks and

Aahh, the elementary school where I ran for student body president against Don Cox and lost by 1 vote because he handed out bubble gum at the polls ... couldn't be anything else, right? Ha.

And there’s the school auditorium where I gave my first public speech as 8th-grade valedictorian, (which may not seem like a big deal, but in our small town it was to me.) The night of graduation, our librarian Mr. Bowers pulled me aside and gifted me with a pen and ink drawing he’d done of a mustang standing on a bluff overlooking a herd of horses on a plateau below. He said, “Sam, you’re a mustang. Mustangs join the herd at will, but leave when the herd tries to take them where they don’t want to go.”

Thank you Mr. Bowers for seeing me and for reaching out at an influential age to give me a supportive identity. His gracious outreach was a stepping stone in my path to SerenDestiny - a life where the light is on in my eyes. As Henry Adams said, “Teachers affect eternity. Who knows where their influence will end?”

Who could forget the library? I used to ride my horse Joe - a palomino who had two speeds, a trot and an all-out run, he never, ever walked – here and tie him to a tree while I went in with the hopes of finding a book I hadn’t already read.

I devoured everything (even the 87th Precinct series by Ed McBain that was far beyond my pay grade, so to speak) but the Black Stallion books by Walter Farley were my favorite. They gave me an all-important window into a fascinating world just waiting to be explored outside the confines of our isolated mountain valley.

The Buckhorn was the only “fancy” place and restaurant in town. We would save our money, sit at the counter and splurge on a grilled cheese and root beer float from the soda fountain. Cheri celebrated her 14th birthday at a pool party here by wearing a daring (and forbidden) two piece bathing suit brought in Catalina.

Our home on Cebrian Street is holding up pretty well for being 70+ years old. I couldn't help but laugh as a tumbleweed blew across the road as I drove by. Brought back images of the tumbleweed forts we built by the side of the house to play with our Barbies (really!). cuyama hourse

Some of the memories that came flooding back as I gazed at my childhood home included the chickens in our back yard that would fly-run squawking around the corner as soon as we opened the back door, no matter how quietly we tried to turn the knob. My rabbits in their hutches and me asking Mom and Dad on a freezing winter night if I HAD to feed them that night, asking “Cant it wait until tomorrow morning?” and my folks saying what they always said, “Do the right thing.”

The Christmas we gathered in a circle (including cousins Dan, Jim, Uncle Brick and Aunt Carol) to open presents. My brother Dave tore open his gift, unfolded the white tissue and promptly threw the box in the air, dumping its contents all over Mom who was wearing her best “dress-up” outfit, a red wood suit. Unfortunately for mom, the contents were horse manure, our parents’ clever way of saying Dave was getting what he wanted for Christmas - his own horse.

Now I'm in Honolulu under the historic “Hawaii Call’s” banyan tree. On the drive in from the airport, we drove by Tripler, the pink hospital on the hill overlooking Pearl Harbor, where Andrew was born. There’s Queen Medical Center where Tom entered the world on Labor Day (quite a sense of humor.). I remember watching the finals of the U.S. Open, thinking "This doesn't hurt that much. I can handle it," and that's when the doc gave me the Petocin. Processed with Snapseed.

I walked over to the Rainbow Tower of the Hilton Hawaiian Village which reminded me of the last time my sons and I visited here - to compete in the Waikiki Rough Water Swim. Tom served as crew and Andrew beat me (by a lot) to the finish line - the noogie.

To top off my trip down Memory Row, the musician here just started playing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” The boys grew up in Maui listening to Hawaiian music ... Brothers Cazimero, Hapa, Keilii Reichel. Tom surprised me by having Brother Iz's version of this song played at his and Patty’s wedding. As he walked me to the center of the floor for the “Mom’s Dance,” he smiled and said “Thought you’d like this.”

Tom was right. I did like it. And I like that its lyrics are poignantly relevant as I reflect on the 25 years spent in these two homes of New Cuyama and Hawaii – first where I grew up as a child, second where my two children grew up.

“Somewhere over the rainbow, Blue birds fly,

And the dreams that you dreamed of,

Dreams really do come true.

I see trees of green and red roses too

I'll watch them bloom for me and you

And I think to myself,

What a wonderful world.”

It is indeed a wonderful world, and I am so grateful for the many dreams which have bloomed and come true.

How about you?

Have you been back to where you grew up? What memories did it bring back? If you haven't "gone home," there's no present like the time - and no time like the present.

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Sam Horn, Founder/CEO of the Intrigue Agency, is on a mission to help people create respectful, collaborative, one-of-a-kind communications that add value for all involved. Her work - including her TEDx talk and books POP!, Tongue Fu! and Washington Post Bestseller Got Your Attention? - has been featured in New York Times and presented to clients such as Boeing and Intel.

What Do I Know for SHORE?

Here at the point in Balboa Park near San Diego, CA. I’m smiling because I’ve decided that, as we near October 1st - the “official” end of my Year by the Water - I’m nowhere near ready for this to end.

As my friend Joan Fallon said, “Looks like this is transitioning into LIFE by the Water.” She’s right.

At this stage and season of life, if we're fortunate, we get to wrap our life around what we know for sure.

What I know for SHORE is I believe water is the best metaphor for life. What I know for SHORE is:

• I am happiest when I am by sun and water. • I am more creative when I am by sun and water. • I am more connected when I am by sun and water. • I am more healthy and active when I am by sun/water.

Ergo, since I am happier and more connected, creative, healthy and active when I am by sun and water … I shall continue to live on, in, by and around water.

I remember reading a poem years ago by Jenny Joseph called “When I Grow Old, I Shall Wear Purple.”

The essence of the poem is that in our “senior years,” we can finally stop playing by society’s rules and start honoring OUR interests, start doing what WE want to do.

I’ve always heard that if we go to a retirement home, we’ll find a lot of people who FEEL like they’re thirty inside who are wondering, “How did it go by so fast? I want it back.”

I don’t want it back. I want it NOW.

What I want is to continue to lead a life in alignment with my priorities and values. Those are:

• Staying connected with the people I love • Creating and contributing work I hope adds value • Exploring and experiencing this wonderful world of ours • Leading a life of SerenDestiny - a life where the light is on in my eyes • Being healthy and living each day in grateful joy

For me, that means being by the sun and water.

How about you?

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Golden Times

I’m here in Morro Bay this week as part of my Year by the Water. I am filled with sweet and bittersweet memories. This is the where my mom and dad lived – actually nearby Los Osos - for the last years of their life. pelican fly bys golden hour morro rock

I remember holiday family reunions at their home, where my brother, sister and I returned as adults to gather around the table and go down Memory Row. For example, “Remember the Christmas Mom and Dad gave Dave a horse, and they got creative and placed some horse manure in a beautifully wrapped box to surprise him?"

I can picture it as if it were yesterday. Our entire extended family sat in a circle, each of us opening one present at a time. As soon as Dave unwrapped his gift, he knew what it meant. He threw the box up in the air and ran outside. Unfortunately, there was … gravity ... and the manure rained down on Mom’s beautiful red wool knit Christmas outfit.

One year, Dad (aka Warren Reed) rented ten horses and we made like Lawrence of Arabia and went riding over the sand dunes pictured in the background of this photo. What fun we had.

Dad also rented a large red canoe that held all ten of us and we paddled around the bay, getting up close to the herons, otters, seals, sailboats and pelicans.

As the Director of Vocational Ag Education for the State of California, Dad spent twenty years and thousands of hours driving around the state, visiting schools, county and state fairs, advising teachers and Future Farmers of America students on their projects.

Within weeks of retiring, he set off on a long-deferred dream to drive across America and visit all the national parks. It was something he’d always wanted to do – but had never had time due to his 7-day a week dedication to his job and serving others.

A week after setting off on his grand adventure, Dad had a stroke. Thankfully, he recovered, but he never did fulfill his life-long dream to see all those national parks.

A couple months after Dad had his stroke, I visited him from Hawaii and we went for a hike at nearby Montana Del Oro State Park. If you’ve been in this area, you know it’s a magnificent golden plateau with a trail that winds along dramatic sea cliffs that overlook the Pacific Ocean. It’s a great place to watch humpback whales, bask in the sun and sea breeze, and marvel at the foamy waves crashing on the shore below.

You know how you keep your head down when you’re hiking on uneven ground? Well, Dad and I were walking along with our eyes focused on the trail, when a premonition prompted us to look up.

There, fifty yards away, was a full-sized buck with an impressive rack of antlers. We had no idea where he came from or how he got there. There was no tall brush or trees, just an open field. the buck gazed at us without an ounce of fear. We gazed back at him.

If you live in California, you know that bucks simply don’t come out in the open. Even when it’s not hunting season, they usually head the other direction as soon as they get a whiff of human beings. This was so unusual, we both understood it was a gift, a blessing.

And so it is that I feel full-circle blessed experiencing this golden hour at Morro Rock. I am here with my sister and we too are going down Memory Row. Yes, we’re getting caught up on business, but we’ll also looking up in wonderment every once in a while as we marvel at our life-long journey together.

Cheri’s daughter is working in her business and helping with mine. Cheri is so grateful that Christina values what she does and has elected to learn the business and honor what she’s created. We talk about Andrew and Miki getting engaged, and Tom and Patty loving their son Mateo, and marvel that it seems like a few months ago we were riding horses over the dunes in Morro Bay.

midnight in parisAs part of my 60th birthday weekend in Washington DC, my family, friends and I saw Woody Allen’s movie “Midnight in Paris.” In that movie, the lead character, Owen Wilson, longs to go back to the era when Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Salvador Dali and Gertrude Stein hung out in Paris together. Through film-making magic and suspension of disbelief, Owen’s character gets his wish and gets to go back in time and kibbitz with these creative geniuses at the height of their powers.

Toward the end of the movie, a woman finds out “Owen” has time-traveled and begs him to share the magic and make it happen for her. Her dream is to go back to the age of the Renaissance and meet Rembrandt, Monet and Matisse.

Owen takes her by the shoulders and beseeches her, implores her to understand what he's discovered, “No, THESE are the golden days, THESE are the golden times.” She doesn’t listen to him. She’s convinced the grass is greener somewhere, sometime, else.

I knew it then and I know it now.

Anytime we are fortunate to be with people we love, THOSE are the golden times. Every day we are blessed with health, THOSE are the golden days. Every moment we get to explore this incredible country of ours and experience her natural wonders, THOSE are the golden moments. Every hour we get to do work we love that matters with people we enjoy and respect, THOSE are the golden hours.

So, here’s to the golden times, the golden days, the golden moments, the golden hours. May we steep ourselves in these blessings, imprint and appreciate them - right here, right now.

What My Sons Taught Me about Asking for What I Really Want

I had an opportunity to meet up with my son, Andrew, who lives in NYC, recently. tom andrew and me at his day-before-wedding afternoon in the park

Andrew knows I've been eating healthier these days, so he made reservations for, what I found out later, is considered one of the area's finest vegan restaurants. Since NYC is one of the food capitals of the world, that's saying something.

I arrived early and looked over what I thought was the menu. There was only 12 items on it and nothing I wanted to eat. It was succotash here, tofu there, broccoli everywhere. Nothing looked even vaguely appetizing or palatable to me.

Please know, I realize this place is a goldmine to veggie-lovers. However, up until 6 months ago, I would head the other direction at the first sign of peas and their brethren.

Then, I discovered, much to my amazement and delight, you can blend spinach (spinach!) and kale (KALE!) into a green smoothie and it actually tastes good … and is good for you.

Suffice it to say, this was a mini-miracle after 50+ years of avoiding vegetables. It’s changed my diet, my body and my life. Thank you Wildfit!

Back to the restaurant. The only thing I see on the menu I think I can get down is linguine with clam sauce. Andrew texts that he’s running late and suggests I go ahead and order for us. I do.

Andrew arrives with his ever-present skateboard. One of the many things I love about Andrew is he actually scoots around Brooklyn and Manhattan on a skateboard. Geesh, he even takes his surfboard on the subway to Rockaway Beach to re-unite with the ocean and get in some waves. As the saying goes, you can take the boy out of Maui, you can’t take Maui out of the boy.

I digress. Back to the restaurant, again. Our food arrives. Andrew takes one look at my steaming pile of linguine and says, “Mom, I thought you weren’t eating pasta.”

“I’m not.”

Double-take. Andrew looks at me, looks at the pasta. “Then, why did you order the pasta?”

pasta image best

“Andrew, it’s no big deal.”

He looks at me in consternation. “Mom, it is a big deal. You say you’re not eating pasta, but you just ordered pasta. I don’t get it.”

I try to brush this aside, to focus on what I think is important. “Andrew, really, let’s just have our meal. We only have a little more than an hour together before I need to Uber to the train.”

Andrew persists, “Mom, why did you order something you didn’t want?”

I can see he isn’t going to let this go (good for him) so I try to explain my thought process.

I said, “Andrew, I didn’t see anything on the menu I wanted, but we only see each other every few months, and we only have a little bit of time tonight, and I didn’t want to make an issue of it. So I ordered the only thing I thought I could eat.”

Here’s what he says. “Mom, do you know what a mixed message that sends?”

Wow. I never thought of it that way. I realized, in that moment, I’ve been doing this most of my life.

My default is to do what I hope will contribute to a peaceful interaction. I do this with what I think are good intentions.

My thought process was, “Andrew’s gone out of his way to book us a table at a special restaurant. But if I say there’s nothing on the menu I want, that would hurt his feelings, and I want us to have a nice dinner, so I’m not going to say anything because I don’t want to make an issue of it.”

But what I don’t realize is, I AM making an issue of it. In fact, I am creating confusion. I'm creating an undertone of dissonance.

I know I’m extrapolating by speaking for women in general … but hey, let’s go there.

This is why men can never figure out what women really want. We never say what we truly want.

With the best of intentions, we project what we think other people want, and then say that’s what we want, because what we want is for the people we care about to be happy.

The irony is, sublimating what we want doesn’t make other people happy; it makes them WRONG.

Like Andrew, they see or sense we’re doing something contrary to what we want. And that’s not what they want. They want us to be happy too.

So, what we end up with is two people trying to make each other happy … and no one is happy.

Oh, what tangled webs we weave.

Thank heaven Andrew got to the heart of the matter. He asked, “Mom, what do you want to eat?”

This time, I told him straight out, “A steak.”

He said, “We can do that.”

He asked our waiter to package up the food (he and Miki would have it later). We headed to Whole Foods, a block away, bought some steak and salmon for me, some salad for him, walked to a nearby park and sat outside under a full moon getting caught up, each of us eating and enjoying what we truly wanted.

Now, you might think I got clarity around this, but no. Seems lifelong habits take awhile to change.

A couple weeks later I'm in Houston with my son Tom, who works at NASA’s Johnson Space Center with the International Space Station, along with his wife Patty, who has the world's greatest job title, Astronaut Scheduler.

I got to play Gramma Sam and help take care of 2 year old Mateo while Patty was in Moscow, serving as a liaison to the Russian Space Agency. An enduring memory was watching Tom, Patty and Mateo connect on SKYPE. As Mateo blew kisses to his “screen-mom,” halfway around the world, I thought, “Now, that’s a modern family!”

After Patty signed off for the night, Tom says, “A new seafood place just opened on the Keemah waterfront. Want to try it tomorrow? After all,” he says with a grin, “You ARE still on your Year by the Water.”

“Absolutely, I’m in the mood for some shrimp.”

The next evening, we arrive early before the crowd. Our waitress shows us to our table and comes back a moment later with our iced tea and water. She asks, "Would you like an appetizer?"

I look at Tom and ask, "How about some shrimp?"

"I thought you were going to have shrimp for dinner."

“I am.”

“You want shrimp for an appetizer AND for dinner?”

I hesitate. It sounds weird. I defer, “What looks good to you?

“Empanadas."

“Will Mateo eat them?

“Yep.”

“Let’s get those.”

You see where this is going, don’t you?

Sure enough. The empanadas come. Tom puts one on my plate.

I put it back and say, "Thanks Tom, I'm not going to have one."

He gives me the exact same look Andrew gave me. "Mom, why would you let me order something if you knew you weren't going to have any?"

I cannot believe I reverted to my default. I tell Tom, "I obviously didn't learn this lesson, because I did the same thing with Andrew a couple weeks ago."

One of the many things I love about Tom is he cuts to the chase. He said, “I don’t understand. Why would you do that?”

I said, “Tom, I’m just coming to realize that I grew up automatically deferring to what I thought others wanted in a misguided attempt to keep the peace and keep everyone happy.

You and Andrew are showing me that I do this without even thinking, and that even when I do it with the best of intentions, it produces the exact opposite of what I want.

You're right, it would have been so much cleaner if I had said, 'Tom, I actually do want shrimp as an appetizer and as my entrée. If you want something else, that's cool. I'm still going to get a shrimp cocktail.”

Tom said, “Exactly. When you say what you want, I don’t have to wonder what you really mean, or wonder if there’s a hidden agenda somewhere I don’t know about.”

“I get that. A long time ago, you, Andrew and I agreed we would tell each other the truth. It un-complicates communication and makes life so .. much ... simpler.

We agreed that back-and-forth – ‘What movie do you want to see?’ ‘I don’t care, what movie do YOU want to see?’ - is crazy-making. We promised each other we much rather hear the truth – because we can deal with that – than have to read between the lines and second-guess everything the other person is saying.”

Tom looked at me as if this ought to be a “duh” moment. It’s crystal clear to him and Andrew how much simpler it is just to say what we want. It’s taking me awhile to undo decades of “going along to get along” deferring.

To use a water metaphor, every time we ask for something we don't want, it sets a ripple effect  of dissonance in motion.

ripple effect of dissoance text image

In my upcoming book about the experiences and epiphanies from my Year by the Water, I go into more detail about how this trip - which gives me time, space and autonomy to make it up as I go - has opened my eyes to the fact that it's been so long since I’ve had the freedom to do exactly what I want ... I don’t even know what that is anymore. It's so buried, I've had to excavate it.

It can be as simple as realizing I really do want to stay in places ON (not close to) the water. For the first few months, I over-rode that preference and abdicated what I wanted in order to be frugal. I would stay at a resort near the water but opt for a cheaper room. Fifteen years of being a single mom who needed to be budget-minded kept kicking in, telling me I needed to save money.

Thank heaven for Glenna Salsbury. I was telling her about the JOY I felt the week before when I upgraded and walked into a beach-front room with a stunning view of the Pacific Ocean.

The ever-wise Glenna said, succinctly and eloquently, “Sam, this is your Year by the Water. Wouldn’t you rather spend 6 months overlooking the ocean than 12 months overlooking the parking lot?”

Boom.

Thank you Tom, Andrew and Glenna for opening my eyes to a life-long default that hurts rather than helps.

Starting today, I will remember  it works better for everyone when I ask for what I truly want - clearly, simply, and from the beginning.

Contrary to what we may have been taught, this is not selfish. It is a precursor to heartfelt happiness.

If we all do this, we can deal with what IS instead of complicating matters, creating confusion, and setting up an undertone of dissonance and unintended deception.

Tom and I agreed, from now on, the word PASTA is going to be our CODE for hedging on what we really want.

"ARE YOU ORDERING THE PASTA?" will be our short-hand for "Are you saying what you think I want - instead of coming straight out and asking for what you want?"

How about you?

When it comes to asking for what you want - what was modeled for you, taught to you, growing up?

Are you constantly deferring to others? Has it been so long since you've tapped into what you really want, you no longer know what that is?

Are you comfortable stating what you want - or do you automatically go along with what other people want - thinking it will lead to peace and happiness?  How does that impact you and the people around you?

I still have a lot to learn around this. I look forward to hearing your insight.

-    -    -

 

Currents of Connection

The theme of this past week on my Year by the Water?
Connection. Actually, that’s the ever-present theme of my life. It’s what makes it all worthwhile, what makes it feel ... right.
I’ve been listening to Twyla Tharp’s New York Times bestseller The Creative Habit on Audible as I drive cross-country.  twyla tharp
I heartily recommend this inspiring book. If you’re taking a trip, it will make the hours and miles race by as she shares thought-provoking insights and examples of how we can make the muse our mentor.
Twyla believes that every creative project needs a “spine.” Everything builds on this spine. It’s the theme that holds the work together and makes it cohesive.
I thought, “Discovery is the ‘spine’ – the river - that runs through my Year by the Water. It’s what makes every day something I look forward to.
The discovery of exploring uncharted territory, and the privilege of writing about the resulting experiences and epiphanies, fill me with joy. I never know what’s around the next bend, which keeps me in a constant state of anticipation, which keeps the light on in my eyes.
What I realized though, and this is really important, is that discovery rides, rests and is rooted in a current of connection. It depends on knowing that my family and friends are with me, even when they’re not with me. Connection is what makes everything else sing.  Discovery is the North Star that guides me, Connection is the Holy Grail that grounds me.
One of the things I’ve discovered on my Year by the Water is there are many types of connection.
This past week in Houston, there was the connection of my son Tom, grandson Mateo and me going to what we instantly dubbed “Pokeman Park.” Tom and Patty have a ritual of getting 2 year old Mateo outside every day when they get home from work. They are blessed to have a lovely park with a pond and a playground 5 minutes from their house, and have logged many happy hours there at golden hour.
tom mateo on slide
Tom and I decided to discover a new place so we headed to a park they hadn’t visited before. We laughed as soon as we saw the tell-tale signs of walkers, skateboarders and drivers all holding their phones out in front of them with the distinctive PokemanGO motion that means they’re triangulating the "pensar" or about to capture a "Bulbasaur."
What was different is how this game turned strangers,  who would probably otherwise not even talk to each other, into a connected community of people voluntarily and happily swapping tips and sharing directions to the nearest “gym.” Plus, this was a 100 degree day. Instead of staying inside, this game had motivated people to get off the couch and out of the house and connect with, and explore, their hometown.
So, that’s an example of how a gadget/game can actually connect people rather than isolate them.
Here’s another example of connection via tech.
Patty, who works in Mission Control at NASA's Johnson's Space Center, was in Moscow, acting as a liaison to the Russian Space Agency, for part of my visit. Yet, there she was, on the computer screen, sharing “dinner” with us thanks to the miracle of Skype. As I watched Mateo blow kisses to his mom halfway around the world, I thought, “Now that’s a modern family.”
There’s a third type of connection, and it involves feeling connected even when we’re not together in person.
When I moved to Hawaii in the early 1980’s, I was sad about leaving my good friends. My dad reassured me by saying, “True friendship doesn’t register time or space.” He was right. I didn’t leave those friends “behind.” When I moved back to Wash DC seventeen years later, we picked up right where we left off.
And that has been one of the most important discoveries of my life. True connection transcends time. True connection endures despite distance.
So it is with my sons Tom and Andrew, Patty, Miki, Mateo, family members Cheri, Christy, Joe and long-time friends Judy, Mary, Denise, Glenna, Joan, Jeanne, Gail, Mariah, Katie, Sue, Lee, Lynda and many others.
Some people, upon hearing about my Year by the Water, call me a “nomad.”
discovery text image
But a nomad doesn’t have a home. I have a home.y
My home is the ever-present connection I feel with my friends and family. They might as well be sitting right next to me as we explore this great country together
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True connection lives in the heart. It is the river – the current – that runs through  our  life.  And I am deeply grateful for it.