by Al Van Dyk | May 13, 2018 | Parkinson's Sucks
Where have you been? People are hurting down here. I’m hurting down here. I guess I still don’t understand what you want from me. This one is on you; your directions weren’t all that clear. I should be a little more grateful, but this isn’t exactly what I had in mind. I am not looking for a plane pulling a banner, just a door that stays open long enough for me to grab my shoes. If you haven’t noticed, I not as smooth on my feet as I once was. But I’m not bitter about that, at least not as bitter…most days.
A little attention would be nice. Lately, it feels like you took me out into the desert, gave me enough rations for the day, and just left me. Those that I have met along the way have been incredibly generous, but I still have no clue how all the dots connect. By the way, I never did get that gift of patience that I expected. The contentment is a nice perk, but where is the sense of urgency? Did you forget that’s how I’m wired?
Is there a reason that you didn’t just zap me with one of your lightning bolts? I know, that’s so Old Testament, but it is an attention getter. No one would think less of you if you did. Most would say that I had it coming — which I probably still do. Just an idea! My life insurance policies don’t preclude acts of God. At least my wife would be set and not worry anymore. My son has been looking at cars on Craig’s List— he might see the upside. I’ve spent so much time in this barren wasteland, no one will notice that I’m gone.
If there is something you want me to accomplish, I’m getting near the end of the runway. And you know what happens when plane don’t achieve lift before the tarmac ends, don’t you? Let just say; it isn’t pretty. For the record, I didn’t take all the risks and work as hard as I did to end up as a statistic.
If you think I have been holding out on you, you can have all my earthly belongings. You can begin by clearing out my garage. If you have your eye on my zero-turn mower, I will need a goat or something to take care of my lawn. You will have to deal with the township and my homeowner’s association; neither allow residents to keep farm animals in my neighborhood. I would prefer not to be the nut-job who sacrifices his mower on the driveway. My neighbors would disappear faster than my second amendment rights.
I have been told over the years that you want a relationship with me and that you can handle all my cares and worries, my anger and my bitterness, even my silence. Here, take it; it’s yours. It was getting heavy, anyway. It’s up to you to make something beautiful out of dust.
If you are looking for me, I’ll be right here in the wasteland where you left me. As you can imagine, I’m getting restless. I may wander off a bit. I’m taking up a hobby. I met some guy who invited me to hunt jackalope with him; he calls himself Mad Max. He reminds me of an out-of-work actor with a Messiah complex.
Thanks for the book by Pastor Warren; its called a faith walk, not a feelings walk, for a reason.
That was close. Just think, I almost posted this whiny rant.
Thanks for reading and liking – share it if you must!
Ivy ran off to buy a cookbook. She thinks that jackalope are related to jackrabbits. I didn’t have the heart to tell her.
Al and his faithful, but zoologically confused sidekick, Ivy the wonder pup.
Ever since her run-in with the lop-eared rabbit that lived in exile in our garage, she has been dying to find out if rabbits taste like chicken.
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by Al Van Dyk | May 6, 2018 | Pivot Points
We Need More Power
Maybe if we had the tenacity of Captain Kirk, we could find our way forward. Kirk had it — the “boldness to go” where few have gone before! When was the last time you yelled to your Captain, the One who gives you your strength, “We need more power…?” When you do, It’s likely that you will get one of two responses. Which one will instill a greater fear in you; that you will get what you asked for and will feel compelled to act, or that you have all you are going to get?
Time for Something New
When we give up on the idea that we can win the little battles, we lose sight of our BHAG’s — our big hairy audacious goals — goals that are visionary, long-term in nature and are emotionally compelling. BHAGs are a good thing, and everyone should have at least one; they drive passions, releasing energy and creativity in ways that few other things do.
How about a show of hands? Is it possible to be as invested in a BHAG when I am at my worst; when I need the sea-legs of a drunken sailor and the toe strength of a ballerina to just walk across the living room than I would need when I am at my best? The idealist would say, “Of course,” you need to tap into your inner Kirk. He would get Scotty to max out the engines, Spock to ignore logic and Bones to do whatever it was that Bone’s did to earn a spot. Kirk would find a way.
However, the pragmatist would say that it’s only logical that the answer to this question is much different when I am at my worst; when my hands are stiff and hitting the correct key on the keyboard is a crap-shoot at best. He would suggest that I should chill, grab a latte and dried out pastry from Starbucks and hit the reset button on the whole world domination attitude. Nothing is so urgent that it can’t wait until midday when the only excitement is watching in amazement as a quick brown fox to jumps over the lazy dog.
The realist would advise me that my BHAG is still attainable, I might need to adjust my approach, allow myself a smattering of grace; at least until my fingers and my faculties are on the same freaking page.
The Quester
Writing my book was my last BHAG, but even that feels small right now. In retrospect it wasn’t as daunting as I thought it would be; once I found the definition of the word “is,” hidden away in the Clinton Library of all places. So now what? Looking back, my BHAG wasn’t big enough. In addition to writing the book, I should have added that I needed to develop an effective marketing campaign and sell 1,000 copies my first week. Ideally, it would generate enough money so Lisa and I could travel the world, or at least I could take her on a cruise. Could it be, that I had doubts that the first part of the goal, writing the book, was attainable, that’s why I didn’t consider how to share it?
When There is No Pony
We keep digging, don’t we? With a smile on our face, no less, we are conditioned to believe that there has to be something more! We engage in corporate doublespeak, sift through mountains of bureaucracy, or sit through yet another four-hour meeting under the pretense that if we play nice, we will receive something more appealing than what we already have. Do you still believe; do you still think that there is a pony under that pile of manure?
Did you give up on chasing your dreams and setting goals when things got tough? To some degree, we all do — I know I did. But that is not how the story ends. Did you quit or did you hit the reset button and pivot? Maybe there is a valid reason that things didn’t turn out as we thought they would. Could it be that all this time we were looking for a pony in the wrong barn? Maybe if we were paying attention, all the cackling and the feathers should have given it away.
Are you frustrated or fearful, weary or wandering? Maybe it’s time to ask your Captain for more power!
The fox belongs to the dog group of animals, Ivy, why do you ask?
Al and his faithful, but narcoleptic sidekick, Ivy the wonder pup.
You think we need one to keep the chickens quiet so you could sleep?
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by Al Van Dyk | Apr 25, 2018 | Family and Friends
There is one inside of each of us, a storyteller longing to be heard. Everyone likes to talk about one thing more than any other, their story — the one in which they get center stage and can capture a role that makes them larger than life; a hero no less. And why not, who better than I can cast me in the best possible light. Would you, or do you leave out the elements of your story that make you look inept, feeble or reckless? I suspect the answer would be yes even though it would make your story more believable and more, well, human.
Storyteller Mode
Now and then I find myself drifting into storyteller mode only to drop in another snippet for those that have heard just bits and parts of my story. For selfish reasons, I have decided to share just some of the dots leaving much to the reader’s imagination. For now, it’s all the listener needs. If the story lacks flare, I can always add more dots.
Case in point; Long before I met my lovely wife when I was younger and more carefree, I broke my ankle in a somewhat embarrassing way. In an attempt to avoid coming across as inept, feeble or reckless, I would stretch the bounds of reality for those that would ask. If someone asked, I would provide an off the cuff remark. But if the person was gullible, and female, the more creative the story became. It wasn’t like I was running for political office, I was only trying to get someone to hold the door open for me while I tried to get through with my crutches.
I wonder how many believed that my parachute didn’t open and lived to tell about it, which is a far cry from the truth. More on that later – maybe. As I said, I wasn’t running for office; I just found a creative way to break the ice. Perhaps even pocket a phone number or two.
That’s Low
That was then; this is now. Today, that same approach would be considered shallow and superficial even Clinton-esque. After all, what difference does the truth matter anyway? If our stories are meant to make us look heroic, then the skydiving narrative may hold water. If the purpose is to make me look human, then I have some work to do.
Still, as a storyteller, I want to keep that my options open, mainly if I feel the need to leave my audience with the perception that I am larger than life. It’s not like I’m running for office or anything, I’m just trying to add some drama to the retelling of a sleepless night. In my version of my story, I’m pretty sure that no catfish or rabbits were in danger, and any similarity between the characters and situations…places or persons, living or dead, is unintentional and coincidental.
Connections Matter
Stories, when taken singularly, are just that; one person’s rendition of event’s. However, where your story intersects with my story, and my story intersects, hypothetically speaking, with a sharpshooter on the west coast and some other guy Philly — the one no one is sure what he does – collectively our story takes on a depth and a richness that is unique and captivating.
It’s that depth that draws people into your story and to mine. It’s sharing what we must endure, our struggle with and against our common enemy. It’s conveying the angst of life-changing events with which others can identify that makes our stories worth telling and will prompt them to pause and to listen. Stories of resolve, of tenacity and of courage demonstrated by a few average Joe’s that enjoy an occasional beer can and do change lives.
Welcome to my story. I’m just an average Joe, who enjoys an occasional beer, trying to avoid the gopher holes under the volleyball nets of life. I decided it was time to come clean after all these years; just in case I decide to run for office someday.
Care to follow along?
Yes, Ivy gophers are real. They aren’t just inflatables that people put in their yard in the fall.
Al and his faithful, rodent eradicating sidekick, Ivy the wonder pup
Those would be wolverines, Ivy.
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by Al Van Dyk | Apr 8, 2018 | Attitude is Everything
What tools do you have in your toolbox? If you only have a hammer, what can you accomplish? Other than hanging a picture to hide a hole you left when you put your fist through the wall, what are you able to fix? How are you going to use the only tool you have to make your life better? Another way to ask the same question, “Is what I have at my disposal, or have access to, sufficient to help me get off my knees?”
Defining Moments
We cringe at the mere thought that we must be broken; that we must endure hardship that will separate us from our egos and strip us of our prideful selves. It happens to almost all of us; we come to a place that what we do and what we aspire to be must take a back seat to who we are. Some are teachable and learn this lesson the first time. For the rest of us, those who are more obtuse, have to return to class a few times before we figure it out.
Nearly every one of us has had at least one defining moment in our lives; an event, or series of events, that rocked us to our core. Whether it was a physical, emotional, relational or spiritual, it had the same effect; it brought us to our knees, stopping us dead in our tracks. While some can pull themselves up and emerge even stronger, and redefine a normal life, there are others that stay on their knees unable or unwilling to get back on their feet.
Then there a some, who have experienced numerous setbacks and hardships, that always get up off of their knees that have a peace and contentment that is indescribable. They are the unsung hero’s in this story. How do they do it? They live with the understanding that the very thing that brought them to their knees was not intended to keep them on their knees.
Our Enemy
We all strive to be whole, to be perfect in body and soul, however perfection is an illusion; it’s the lie that keeps us on our knees. If we wait until we can perform a task perfectly, we would accomplish very little. We would never ride a bicycle, cook meatloaf in a crock-pot or publish our first book. If we wait until we are perfect, we will never forge friendships or raise a family.
Perfection is our enemy; it is the enemy of the good and the great. It keeps our focus on the unattainable. If our focus is to do our best and be our best, we are always moving forward, thinking creatively and acting decisively. If our focus is to be perfect, we never leave the comfort of our surroundings or the confines of our circumstances no matter where find ourselves.
An Empty Tool Box
The future belongs to those who are resourceful, have a drive and are optimistic; they find a way to get up off their knees. Even though the experiences have been humbling, they are not humiliated. They are willing to throw everything at their obstacle, including their kitchen sink. Abraham Maslow, the psychologist who is best known for creating Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, offers this thought:
If you only have a hammer, you tend to see every problem as a nail.
Maslow would argue that we see our problems as simplistic if we have only one resource at our disposal and when we do, we convince ourselves that our rightful place is on our knees.
What tools do you have in your toolbox? If all you see is a rusty hammer, you may lack the resources to get off your knees. The good news is that their tools are out there, and people willing and able to teach us how to use them. We still have to do the heavy lifting. It won’t be easy but its worth the effort.
Maslow would be trilled if each of us had all the tools at our disposal we need to fix that unsightly hole in the wall and didn’t have to resort to hanging yet another velvet Elvis in an awkward place.
Thanks for reading, liking, and sharing
Ivy thinks we need to stop at Home Depot to buy some tools to build her a dog house. She wants her a place of her own.
Al and his faithful, but liberated sidekick, Ivy the wonder pup.
Ivy, you realize that means you will be sleeping outside.
