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By Ron Culberson. With a master’s degree in social work, Ron Culberson spent the first part of his career working in a large hospice organization as a clinical social worker, middle manager, and senior leader. As a speaker, humorist, and author of "Do it Well. Make it Fun.The Key to Success in Life, Death, and Almost Everything in Between", he has delivered more than 1,000 presentations to associations, government agencies, non-profit organizations, and corporations. His mission is to change the workplace culture so that organizations are more productive and staff are more content. He was also the 2012-2013 president of the National Speakers Association and is a recognized expert on the benefits of humor and laughter.
Someone once said that “common sense” is really “uncommon sense” because it seems to be in such short supply. This very well may be true. I remember attending my first Boy Scout camp and a group of older scouts convinced me to go ask the camp director for a “left-handed smoke grinder.” Needless to say, left-handed smoke grinders do not exist. Neither do right-handed ones. Ultimately, my quest led to a thirty-minute lecture from the director during which he explained that I had been duped and that I really should be more careful. He then suggested that I join some of the other young scouts on a snipe hunt later that night. Geez. Anyway, now that COVID has become a bit less threatening, in-person conferences have returned and my travel schedule looks like it did in 2019. And while I find myself dealing with a new world of cancelled flights, understaffed hotels, and closed restaurants, it’s the situations where I encounter uncommon sense that frustrate me the most. Every time something inane happens, I think to myself, Who thought that was a good idea? Let me illustrate. I recently attended a conference at what might be called a “rustic” resort. I say “rustic” because it wasn’t really designed for upscale vacationing. The resort has several water parks, a dozen arcades, and a few fast food kiosks. But it doesn’t have upscale dining options or stylish rooms. From what I could tell, the goal is to get people out of their rooms and into the water parks, arcades, and fast food kiosks. However, one slight flaw in the resort’s design is that it also has a conference center. This means that business people like me stay there as well. And to be clear, we aren’t particularly interested in the water parks, arcades, or fast food. So, as I typically do when I travel for speaking engagements, I work in my hotel room. I check emails, review proposals, write pithy blogs like the one you’re currently reading, and doze off at my desk around 1:00 p.m. just like when I’m back at my home office. At this rustic resort, however, they don’t want people to stay in their rooms, much less doze off at their desk. So, a technique they have employed to encourage their guests to engage in other activities is to furnish the rooms with a tiny rustic table and two rustic chairs that seemed to have been constructed by someone without access to professional carpentry tools. The arms, backs, and legs of these chairs looked like tree limbs manufacture from some sort of imitation wood presumably harvested from an imitation forest. Suffice it to say, the chairs were neither ergo nor nomic (and I’m not even sure what that means). To give you a sense of the way these chairs fit my body, the back of one had a simulated knot that protruded directly into my left kidney. Luckily the back of the other chair did not hit my left kidney but instead, put pressure on a nerve in my spine that eventually led to numbness in three toes on my right foot. There was no other seating option in my room so I folded the duvet from my bed into a cushioned tower that would raise my back above the knots on the chair. After toppling off the duvet several times, I finally gave up and retreated to the lobby where I sat on a couch that was covered in what looked like moose fur. But thankfully, the couch had no knots. That being said, I did discover a few unexplained insect bites on my leg later that night and wondered if the couch had fleas. When I retired for the evening, I wanted to plug my phone into an outlet near the bed so I could use it as my clock. As I was looking for one, I noticed that this resort, like so many hotels, still offers an overly complex clock radio that no one uses. In fact, in one hotel I stayed in last year, the alarm clock went off at 2:00 a.m. I spent an hour the next morning trying to disable it. Finally, I looked up the instructions online and one article suggested that it was easier to throw the clock away than to disable the alarm. So, I simply unplugged it. At 2:00 a.m. the next morning, the alarm went off again. Apparently, there was a backup battery installed which allowed the alarm to work should the power “somehow” be disconnected. Even though the rustic hotel had a clock, I felt more confident using my phone. However, there was only one outlet on the entire wall behind the bed and it was located in the center of the headboard but below the mattress. I’m sure this lack of outlets violates more than one building code but it makes sense for a resort that’s trying to create a rustic Davy Crockett experience. I mean, he had no electricity either. To plug in my phone, I had to pull the mattress back from the wall and feed the cord through a narrow opening in the headboard. Once I did that, I was able to run the cord across the box springs and anchor it over the corner of the bedside table with the hotel phone. After getting all of this situated, I was exhausted and hopped into bed. The weight of my body on the mattress yanked the phone off the table and it landed in between the mattress and the side rails. I had already set my alarm so I just left it there and went to sleep. After a fitful night waiting for the alarm on the clock radio to go off, I got up early and took a shower. As I finished, I looked for a towel and discovered they were located on a shelf under the sink about twenty feet from the shower. I wanted to take picture, just to prove my point, but my phone was still caught in the side of the bed. I couldn’t imagine who thought it was a good idea to put the towels so far from the shower? I did consider walking out into the hallway to let my naked body “air dry,” as a form of protest, but I didn’t want to run into someone I might see at my presentation. I’ve heard it said that speakers should imagine audience members in their underwear as a way to reduce their anxiety. But I suspect that most audiences have no good reason to see their speaker naked. After my program was over, I was relieved to leave the rustic resort and head back home where my chairs, my outlets, and my towels are exactly where they should be. I boarded the plane and soon found out that our departure time was delayed because of a mechanical problem. The pilot told us that he wanted to conserve fuel while we waited so he would not be using the air conditioner. I sat there sweating like Davy Crockett at the Alamo and decided to pass the time by watching a movie that I had downloaded to my phone. I opened the app and got an alert that I my phone only had 2% of its battery left. Apparently, the outlet on the wall behind the headboard and beneath my mattress only worked when the overhead light was on. I couldn’t help thinking, Now, who thought that was a good idea? Planning your next event? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to schedule your ideal speaker and make your event a success!
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By Ron Culberson. With a master’s degree in social work, Ron Culberson spent the first part of his career working in a large hospice organization as a clinical social worker, middle manager, and senior leader. As a speaker, humorist, and author of "Do it Well. Make it Fun.The Key to Success in Life, Death, and Almost Everything in Between", he has delivered more than 1,000 presentations to associations, government agencies, non-profit organizations, and corporations. His mission is to change the workplace culture so that organizations are more productive and staff are more content. He was also the 2012-2013 president of the National Speakers Association and is a recognized expert on the benefits of humor and laughter.
When I was a kid, I didn’t think my life would be complete until I was famous. I’m not exactly sure why I thought fame was a worthy goal. Perhaps curing cancer, inventing the internet, or even creating a way to have healthy teeth without flossing would have been worthwhile endeavors. Seeking fame for fame’s sake seems a tad bit shallow. Nonetheless, as a teenager with no fear of failure and a total lack of worldly knowledge, I devised a plan to become famous. I did an inventory of my skills and determined several key attributes. I was funny. I was good at performing in front of other people. And I had memorized all of Steve Martin’s albums. So, I decided to be Steve Martin. I don’t mean that I had planned to become Steve Martin. I just figured that I could perform his act for any group that couldn’t afford him. The act was very good and I was very cheap. It was a perfect formula for success. I couldn’t imagine what would stand in my way. At this point, many of you are wondering how I even got into college. It’s a valid conundrum. Amazingly, I attended the University of Virginia, one of the top public schools in the country. But since I grew up in a very rural and impoverished part of the state, I believe my acceptance to The University had something to do with a quota system for students from the very rural impoverished part of the state where I grew up. However, that’s a discussion for another blog. Suffice it to say that my plan to be Steve Martin, while in many ways simplistically brilliant, did not materialize. And in hindsight, I suspect we can all breathe a sigh of relief. In fact, I’d probably still be in litigation. So, without the need to purchase a second white suit and more rabbit ears, I took the non-famous path of attending college and working in a variety of interesting jobs. In the late 80’s, I started speaking at conferences because I had developed a presentation on “Humor in the Workplace.” I was still funny in a not-at-all-like-Steve-Martin way, and my message of work-life balance was something people would actually pay for. Ironically, after getting some traction with this topic, I thought I might actually achieve some level of fame after all. This idea was reinforced during one of my early engagements when I spoke at a conference in rural Maine. The event was held at a local bowling alley and conference center. The marquee out front read, “Welcome Ron Culberson” and “Try Our New 7-10 Split Nachos.” As I drove into the parking lot, I was convinced that this was a sign (literally) that I had finally arrived and perhaps one day, my name would be in lights at a bowling alley and conference center in Las Vegas. Again, I refer you to the fact that I probably had help getting into college. Well, my name didn’t appear on any more marquees. And while I’ve enjoyed a long fulfilling career, my path to success did not lead to fame. That being said, I do occasionally run into people who say, “Oh, I’ve heard of you.” But, let’s be clear. I do not have paparazzi in front of my house and I’ve never been recognized in the produce section of the grocery store. I have, on occasion, run into someone who knows me in the beer section, however. Maybe that counts for something. Anyway, while I no longer have the desire to pursue fame, I do still question my ultimate life goal. One day, while I was pondering this very idea in of all places, the produce section of the grocery store, I remembered the many funerals I had attended when I worked in hospice care. Some were packed to the brim with people wanting to pay their respect to the deceased. It occurred to me that having hundreds of people attend my funeral would be a great goal to pursue. It would not suggest that I was famous but it sure would show that I was popular, right? When you think about it, a funeral is a great reflection of someone’s life. Unless, of course, it’s done poorly. I once attended a funeral where the officiant kept referring to the deceased by the wrong name. Who does that? If there is one simple bit of information that anyone can capture during the post-death, pre-funeral planning phase, it’s the dead person’s name. I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s usually printed right there on the program. Geez. As I contemplated this new goal of a packed funeral, I realized that there could be a problem with my plan. You see, I come from a family with good genes. My parents lived into their 90’s. So conceivably, I might outlive many of the people who would have attended my funeral. To me, the risk of a poorly attended funeral would be a huge letdown after a lifetime of pursuing a standing-room-only sendoff. And that brings me to a weirdly coincidental experience I had a few weeks ago. One of my volunteer roles is to operate the camcorder for my church. I record the weekly church services and occasionally record a special event or funeral. Recently, I operated the camcorder at the funeral of a woman who had attended our church. She did not have any family but a handful of friends attended the funeral. Eight years before her death, this woman had started showing signs of dementia. With no family available, her friends became her support system. They assisted her around the house and kept an eye on her diminishing mental condition. Eventually, she needed more support and these same friends helped her transition to the memory care unit of a local nursing home. However, they never abandoned her. Even after she moved, they remained committed to her care and helped with her legal and financial responsibilities. As I listened to several of these friends speak during the service that day, it occurred to me that this might be a better goal for my life—to have friends who would take care of me when I am no longer able to care for myself. I got excited by the idea and immediately made a mental list of the people who would be the best choices for my support system. I figured I needed to start grooming them for this very important role. Then, it hit me. I had it all wrong. My goal in life should not be focused on luring a group of people to be my caregivers. Instead, maybe I should be the type of person who cares for others. If I am able to support a family member, a friend, or a neighbor, then fame and the number of people who attend my funeral would be moot—because, at that point, I would have already achieved my goal. In the end, perhaps that’s what it’s all about for each one of us—for life to not be all about us! That’s such a profound concept, it might actually make me famous. Wink. Planning your next event? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to schedule your ideal speaker and make your event a success! By Ron Culberson. With a master’s degree in social work, Ron Culberson spent the first part of his career working in a large hospice organization as a clinical social worker, middle manager, and senior leader. As a speaker, humorist, and author of "Do it Well. Make it Fun.The Key to Success in Life, Death, and Almost Everything in Between", he has delivered more than 1,000 presentations to associations, government agencies, non-profit organizations, and corporations. His mission is to change the workplace culture so that organizations are more productive and staff are more content. He was also the 2012-2013 president of the National Speakers Association and is a recognized expert on the benefits of humor and laughter.
If you’re over 50 and you haven’t had a colonoscopy, pick up the phone and schedule one right now. There’s no good excuse to avoid it. Unless, of course, you object to purging your entire digestive system and then letting a doctor (who, by the way, chose to focus on patients’ hind quarters for a living) insert a small, and by small I mean huge, video camera up inside you to check for abnormalities. If that’s your objection, you’re in good company. But, colonoscopies save lives so I suggest you get over your explorarectaphobia and just do it. Knowing the importance of colonoscopies for detecting treatable cancer, I told my physician that I wanted to schedule one right after I turned 50. And no, I don’t have some weird fascination with digestive photography. It’s just that I worked in hospice care and know the value of preventive procedures. So, I contacted the local Colonoscopies R Us Supercenter and picked a time in January when my speaking schedule tends to be slower. I completed a 750-item, pre-procedure questionnaire that asked for my medical history, my eating habits, my bowel routines, and whether the bathroom plumbing in our house worked properly. That last question gave me pause. I returned the forms and several days later I received an instruction sheet with a prescription for MoviPrep which is described as a “dynamic cleansing solution.” I was impressed by the clever name and quickly discovered that it was not referring to the anticipation of a blockbuster cinema experience. If you’re not familiar with the colonoscopy process, let me explain. Basically, the procedure involves inserting a camera-equipped tube into your colon as a way to detect abnormalities, especially cancer. From what I’ve heard, the procedure itself is easy—BECAUSE YOU ARE ASLEEP. It’s the preparation process that deters most reasonable humans because you have to eliminate any visual obstacle from your colon so that the camera has a clear view. This is where MoviPrep comes in…or out as it were. MoviPrep is a NASA-grade laxative that cleans you out from the top of your colon to…well…Uranus. One must drink thirty-two ounces of MoviPrep the night before the procedure and another thirty-two ounces on the morning of the procedure. The day before my colonoscopy, I was not allowed to ingest anything but clear fluids. So, I stocked up on a variety of bouillon, sparkling drinks, fruit juices, and teas as a way to trick my body into thinking that I was eating. I woke up and had a lovely breakfast of bouillon and tea. By 7:30 am, I was famished. As the morning drug on, I considered chewing up an Oreo and then spitting it out just to experience the flavor and texture of food. But I was afraid that a piece of the cookie might slip into my colon leading the doctor to schedule a more extensive exploration. So I just drank lots of bouillon, juices, and teas. At 5:00 p.m., the real fun began. It was time to start drinking the first round of MoviPrep. The solution was premixed and tasted like a combination of aspirin and chrome with a hint of lemon. The consistency reminded me of watered down kindergarten glue and I had to choke down four eight-ounce glasses during this first round. To make the ingestion process a little more fun, I used a fancy mug that I had purchased from the Kiawah Island Golf Resort. You see, I had played a crappy game of golf at Kiawah so it was the perfect glass for drinking this (literally) crappy MoviPrep solution. The first eight-ounce glass wasn’t too bad. But I had held my breath. The second glass didn’t go down as easily. I accidentally breathed on the second swallow and the memory of the taste was permanently ingrained in my brain. The third glass made me frumph. A frumph is a rapid cough-burp-heave sequence that leaves you wondering if something is going to come back up. But I got through that glass without incident. I had to force the last eight ounces down. I experienced multiple frumphs. Then I waited. Fifteen minutes. Thirty minutes. Forty-five minutes. One hour. At about the seventy-eight minute mark, the MoviPrep started to work. It began with a rumble that snaked its way down my digestive tract and then burst through like an NFL lineman. I barely made it to the bathroom in time. I finished, went back to my chair, and the rumbling started again. This would be my MoviPrep experience for the next three hours. After that, the process began to slow down. By 10:30, I was done. The final count was seventeen MoviPrep “moments.” I estimated that I was 20 pounds lighter at that point and no longer wanted anything to eat because I knew it would come right back out. I was exhausted. Then, something unexpected happened. Something that was not on the prep sheet nor in any of the pre-procedure instructions. It was the worst possible outcome after five hours of continuous colon cleansing. It was a phone call from the doctor’s office. “Mr. Culberson. This is Mary at Dr. Jones’ office. Due to the impending snow storm, our office will be closed tomorrow. We’ll need to reschedule your colonoscopy.” In a fit of rage, I threw the next morning’s round of MoviPrep solution out the kitchen window. The strain sent me back to the bathroom. But, my procedure was rescheduled and I made it through another MoviPrep experience. There were no issues found during the colonoscopy and I’m pleased to say that it all worked out in the end. So my advice to you is get your colonoscopy but just check the weather forecast first. Planning your next event? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to schedule your ideal speaker and make your event a success! By Ron Culberson. With a master’s degree in social work, Ron Culberson spent the first part of his career working in a large hospice organization as a clinical social worker, middle manager, and senior leader. As a speaker, humorist, and author of "Do it Well. Make it Fun.The Key to Success in Life, Death, and Almost Everything in Between", he has delivered more than 1,000 presentations to associations, government agencies, non-profit organizations, and corporations. His mission is to change the workplace culture so that organizations are more productive and staff are more content. He was also the 2012-2013 president of the National Speakers Association and is a recognized expert on the benefits of humor and laughter.
As a young person growing up in rural Southwest Virginia, I was a bit more sheltered than those who spent their childhoods in urban environments. I had wonderful experiences, grew up with many good people, and honestly, I wouldn’t trade a minute of it. That being said, once I got into the “real” world, I encountered a number of experiences I initially considered unusual, or even abnormal. For instance, my wife grew up on Long Island. The first time I traveled to New York, I found the people to be very…well…blunt. They seemed to say whatever came to mind. In the genteel south, we preferred to show face-to-face kindness and share our honesty behind people’s backs. It seemed like the thoughtful thing to do…bless their hearts. Another sheltered experience I had related to the safety of tuna salad. In the 1970’s, my family was a bit suspicious of seafood since we lived so far from the ocean. So, whenever we went out to lunch, my mother would never order a tuna salad sandwich because, she said, “We don’t know how old it is.” Oh, it was fine to eat it at home where the tuna could go from tin can to fridge in a matter of seconds. But restaurant tuna salad was…well…fishy. In hindsight, I have come to appreciate both the directness of my brothers and sisters from the north as well as the deliciousness of tuna salad sandwiches. These experiences are now familiar to me and thus, they seem perfectly normal. Over the past few years, our world has become more divided. Many people are intolerant of ideas that are different from their own and are equally intolerant of the people who express them. I suspect we see our own people and our own views as “normal” while anything else is considered abnormal. But perhaps normalcy is the wrong way to look at our differences. Maybe we should think in terms of unfamiliarity instead. When our son turned seven, he was the only white American at his birthday party. His closest friends had a variety of darker skin colors and most had parents who were born in other countries. While this was normal for the diverse communities in the Washington DC suburbs, it was unusual for me. I did not see a lot of differences while growing up in Southwest Virginia. My exposure to diversity was limited to black, white, Baptist, and Methodist. And even though we Methodists saw things quite differently than the Baptists, we were nice to their faces. Just saying. One of my son’s friends was born in the U.S. but his parents were born in Egypt. Every time I went to pick him up from their house, his friend’s mother loaded up a plate of food for me and implored me to take more. I was not accustomed to this kind of mid-afternoon welcome meal. But when I learned that this was part of their culture, it was no longer unfamiliar—and I ate without hesitation. That is, unless she offered tuna salad. Finding myself in unusual circumstances has continued throughout my life. I once visited a Rotary Club in The Netherlands where no one spoke English. Yet their welcoming handshakes and warm smiles spoke to our similarities rather than our differences. Several years ago, I had the privilege of doing a presentation at the White House. I was unfamiliar with the protocols for addressing high ranking officials so I simply asked for guidance from my host. Once I learned a few rules and understood that I would not be thrown out for making a mistake, I became more comfortable. And more recently, I visited a community that was heavily populated by those who follow Orthodox Judaism. After wondering out loud about the history of the town, I was given an overview of how the community evolved. It was not only fascinating but I found the differences in our backgrounds much less unusual. Due to my innate curiosity, I seek to make the unfamiliar more familiar. I believe there is a humanity that emerges when we try to understand another person’s experiences. This can lead to greater tolerance of both ideas and people—even though we might not share the same beliefs or perspectives. Now, I don’t want to mislead you into thinking I am accepting of every person or situation that I encounter. There are a few things that still seem abnormal to me. Like drinking buttermilk, preferring cats over dogs, and liking The Princess Diaries 2. But I’m willing to entertain the idea that I may just be unfamiliar with the reasoning behind the attraction to these things. By the way, if you are a buttermilk-drinking cat owner who loves The Princess Diaries 2, I offer my sincerest apologies for hitting the trifecta with this particular example. I think we live at a time when we need to see our differences not so much as abnormal but rather just unfamiliar. In doing so, perhaps we can become more understanding of the things that baffle us and ultimately see many more similarities than differences. I believe that the less unfamiliar the world looks, the more normal everything might seem. Planning your next event? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to schedule your ideal speaker and make your event a success! By Ron Culberson. With a master’s degree in social work, Ron Culberson spent the first part of his career working in a large hospice organization as a clinical social worker, middle manager, and senior leader. As a speaker, humorist, and author of "Do it Well. Make it Fun.The Key to Success in Life, Death, and Almost Everything in Between", he has delivered more than 1,000 presentations to associations, government agencies, non-profit organizations, and corporations. His mission is to change the workplace culture so that organizations are more productive and staff are more content. He was also the 2012-2013 president of the National Speakers Association and is a recognized expert on the benefits of humor and laughter.
It’s that time of year again. Even if you haven’t put away the decorations, I suspect you have spent the past few weeks putting away enough food and drink for the both of us. And I’m right there with you. Now, it’s time to get back to work, back to school, and back to the gym. Or not. January 1st is a logical day to set goals for the coming year. Whether it’s work goals, financial goals, or Netflix shows to binge, the first of the year just feels like the right time to set a new course. If nothing else, that new wall calendar is screaming to be used for something significant—not just birthdays, book clubs, and dentists’ appointments. The problem with this approach is that every day is an opportunity to schedule something significant. So, what is a driven, goal setting, Type-A, go-getter supposed to do? Well, as an anti-driven, goal avoiding, Type-D, stay-here-er, I have no idea. But I do have a simple suggestion that has unlimited possibilities and is not based on an arbitrary day like January 1st: Take one day at a time. I know what you’re thinking: I was expecting so much more from you. Welcome to my simple world. I’ve built a career on deeply shallow thinking—so you should never expect more from me. But I do understand where you’re coming from. It’s easy to view “one day at a time” as a narrowly applied cliche because it’s more commonly used by those dealing with addiction, grief, or other ongoing challenges. But when it’s applied to our everyday life, it can be one of the most powerful approaches we can embrace. First of all, one day is what we have to work with. And at the risk of being a bit morbid, we don’t even know if we’ll make it through the whole day. You see, we can’t predict what will happen from one minute to the next. And it’s so easy to get lulled into thinking that we always have more time. Yet, whenever we hear about a natural disaster or a tragic accident, we realize that there are no guarantees. But the one thing we will always have is this moment right now or in a broader sense, this day. As author Sam Harris put it, “It is always now.” So, if it is always now, how does this affect our goal process for being the best “we” that we can be in 2022? Well, everything we want to accomplish happens in this moment. The more we focus on that, the easier it is to take advantage of the time we do have. You won’t accomplish anything by just focusing on the future. It doesn’t mean that you can’t set goals. It just means that the key to achieving those goals happens in the moment. Here’s an example. When parents travel with small kids, the most common question they hear is, “Are we there yet?” When a child is confined to the uninteresting prison of the back seat, every trip seems endless. They just want to get to wherever they’re going. Harley Davidson, on the other hand, has created ads that focus on the value of the journey rather than the destination. While every journey has a destination, if we’re only focused on the endpoint, we miss the rich moments along the way. One of my favorite Harley Davidson ads asked that if you look back at your time on earth will you say that you “kept a crabgrass free lawn?” If so, the ad suggests that your focus is on the wrong thing. “One day at a time” is about keeping the focus on the journey. The second reason for a day-to-day approach is that it’s just more manageable. Year-to-year goals can be overwhelming. The reason the one-day-at-a-time principle works is that it gives us a bite-size chunk of time that feels doable. For instance, if I decide that I want to read twenty books this year, that may seem like a reasonable goal. But if I get to the end of January, and I haven’t read a single book yet, then I have to go into catch-up mode and that feels unreasonable. I might even ditch the entire goal for fear that I won’t accomplish it. On the other hand, if I know that I want to read more books, then I can decide to read for an hour today and simply accomplish that specific goal in the moment. If I don’t do it, I can start fresh the next day. Each day and each moment become opportunities to grab a win rather than getting mired in the onslaught of accumulating losses. When people are fighting addiction or grieving the loss of a loved one, coping for days, weeks, or years seem unattainable. But getting through today seems possible. The same is true for our routine lives. We can achieve a greater sense of calm while accomplishing something significant by being focused on the day. In a world that throws enough stress our way, it seems that it might be less stressful to embrace one day rather than three hundred and sixty five of them. We can still have our goals. And we can still set a course for our life. But in the process, we want to focus on the moment. If we don’t, we might just miss it. And if we miss the moments in life, we never get them back. Here’s to a meaningful and fulfilling 2023…one day at a time. Planning your next event? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to schedule your ideal speaker and make your event a success! By Ron Culberson. With a master’s degree in social work, Ron Culberson spent the first part of his career working in a large hospice organization as a clinical social worker, middle manager, and senior leader. As a speaker, humorist, and author of "Do it Well. Make it Fun.The Key to Success in Life, Death, and Almost Everything in Between", he has delivered more than 1,000 presentations to associations, government agencies, non-profit organizations, and corporations. His mission is to change the workplace culture so that organizations are more productive and staff are more content. He was also the 2012-2013 president of the National Speakers Association and is a recognized expert on the benefits of humor and laughter.
A friend of mine recently said that it seems like more people die in January. I don’t know if January leads the calendar in deaths but since it’s often noted that nothing in life is guaranteed but death and taxes, I would expect April to hold that honor. At sixty one years of age, I’ve just made a simple yet profound observation. It seems that I know more people who have died than I used to. Before you jump to the conclusion that I have not been paying attention to the logical trajectory of life (birth, school, work, golf, death), you have to admit that most of us don’t really pay attention to this phenomenon on a regular basis. But we should. A friend of mine died recently and her daughter noted that she had planned out every detail of her funeral right down to where people should sit. My friend said, “It made things so much easier.” You see, when people die, their loved ones are tasked with many details that must be handled. Initially, it’s the funeral plans. Then, there are car titles to change, bank accounts to be transferred, and pesky social media accounts that must be deleted but can’t be without the password that was kept on a slip of paper and stored in a secret drawer somewhere in attic. And when survivors are also dealing with the effects of grief, they aren’t in a state of mind that makes these tasks easy. So, anything that is pre-planned can be a wonderful relief for the loved ones. A few years ago, my wife and I were hanging out with some friends, all of whom were all in their early fifties, and the topic of wills came up. We discovered that we were the only ones who had drawn up wills and advanced directives. In other words, these folks were willfully unwilling to will up. On top of that, they had children still living at home who would inevitably take on the heavy responsibility of making decisions should their parents become ill or depart this world unexpectedly. While this kind of unpreparedness can be avoided, it’s not uncommon in our culture. Many years ago, death was more popular than it is today. Well, let me restate that. It’s never really been that popular, as most of us prefer to stay in the have-not-yet-died category, but it was a less hidden. You see, before funeral homes came into prominence in the 1860’s and people began to leave the communities where they were born, death was a part of everyday life. I’m not talking about the reports of death we constantly see today in the news but the deaths we encountered when we lived for years in and around our neighbors and relatives. Back then, death happened in the home, bodies were viewed in the parlor, and we understood that the end of life was part of life. Today, however, we avoid death like the plague. I guess we also now avoid the plague like death but that’s an issue for the CDC to sort out. It’s as if we seem to think our own death won’t happen anytime soon so we ignore our biological clocks and trudge on through life. So that brings me back to my original pre-planning preparedness stance. All of us over the age of twenty-five (random number that just seems right) should probably have a will and an advanced directive. It doesn’t have to be complicated but it needs to specify our wishes. I worked in hospice care when I was in my mid-twenties and saw a number of difficult situations play out when people did not specify the kind of medical care they wanted or how their loved ones should handle their burial and funeral. So, I’ve been an advocate for clear communication ever since because, as my friend’s daughter said, “It makes things so much easier.” So, keeping that in mind and realizing I had put more thought into my legal documents than my funeral planning, I started a “Ron’s Funeral Wishes” list. I considered potential speakers, a selection of readings, and music. Now, I fully support the idea that funerals are rites of passage and that part of the purpose of a this ritual is to encourage the grieving process. But I don’t want my own funeral to be a sob-fest (although I’m sure my demise will be devastating for most in attendance). There needs to be some balance. To get some ideas of what others have done music-wise, I did an internet search on the “most popular funeral songs.” As I scrolled down the options, I saw the usual tunes: “Amazing Grace,” “Hallelujah,” “Ave Maria.” These are undeniably beautiful songs that would bring a heartfelt tear to any funeral. But I also saw AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” and the Snoop Dog/Willie Nelson duet called, “Roll Me Up and Smoke Me When I’m Gone.” I immediately added both to my list. I get giddy just thinking about how people will react—assuming anyone actually attends my funeral. As someone who grew up in a small town and attended numerous funerals in my childhood, and then worked for a decade in the hospice industry, I’ve been aware of end of life issues for years. However, please understand that I don’t live in a state of fear nor do I carry a continual cloud of anticipated grief with me. I see death for what it is—the last part of my life. I think this perspective is how we can cope with its inevitability as well as to plan for it more effectively. This is true for any of the inevitabilities of life. The more we prepare for these “death and taxes” moments, the smoother the experience will be for us and our loved ones. This whole discussion reminds me of a story I heard about a preacher who proclaimed to his flock, “Every member of this congregation will one day die.” A man sitting in the front row started laughing. The pastor stopped his sermon and asked the man why he was laughing. The man said, “I’m not a member of this congregation!” And there you have it. Planning your next event? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to schedule your ideal speaker and make your event a success! By Ron Culberson. With a master’s degree in social work, Ron Culberson spent the first part of his career working in a large hospice organization as a clinical social worker, middle manager, and senior leader. As a speaker, humorist, and author of "Do it Well. Make it Fun.The Key to Success in Life, Death, and Almost Everything in Between", he has delivered more than 1,000 presentations to associations, government agencies, non-profit organizations, and corporations. His mission is to change the workplace culture so that organizations are more productive and staff are more content. He was also the 2012-2013 president of the National Speakers Association and is a recognized expert on the benefits of humor and laughter.
One of the things that really gets under my skin is when someone “shoulds” on me. You know what I mean, right? It’s when you’re talking with someone and they say, “Oh, you should do this,” or “You should do that.” We’re all guilty of “shoulding” on others but there are two obvious problems that can arise from it. First, when a suggestion is made in the form of a “should” statement, it insinuates that the “shoulder” knows what’s best for the “shouldee” and that the “shoulder” has the right to tell the “shouldee” what to do. Second, the process can cause the “shouldee” to make guilt-driven comparisons where the “shouldee” becomes more concerned with what others think than feeling confident in their own motives and behaviors. This comparison process is what’s sometimes called, “Keeping up with the Joneses.” It is a never-ending-hamster-wheel exercise to nowhere and what’s worse, we may ultimately discover that we’ve been trying to keep up with the wrong Joneses. When I first became a professional speaker—meaning when I got money for talking—I received a lot of advice from more experienced speakers. I was told, “You should raise your fee,” and “You should offer at least a dozen topics,” and “You should never negotiate your fee,” and “You should always put your picture on your business card.” Whenever I heard these things, I questioned my motives and started comparing myself to other speakers. I thought, Maybe I’m undervaluing my presentations. Maybe the few topics I offer are limiting my opportunities. Maybe I should never work for less than my full fee. And, maybe I should not only have my photo on my business card, but I should put it on both sides. But you know what? None of these strategies worked for me. When I raised my fee too much, my calendar was empty. When I tried to focus on too many topics, I diluted all of them. And when I wasn’t flexible with my fee, I didn’t get to work with the clients I actually liked. However, when it came to my business card, I never considered putting my photo on either side because I feared that my striking good looks would lead to more work than I could handle. You see, the Joneses I was trying to keep up with were not the Joneses I wanted to be. Those Joneses were more interested in pursuing the CEOs of Fortune 100 companies while I wanted to work with the directors of social services agencies. They stayed at the Ritz while I was perfectly happy at the Courtyard. And they drove sports cars with all the amenities while I drove a Subaru with all-wheel drive. The allure of their success was seductive but after a few years, I realized that this path was not a good fit for me—and that I was trying to keep up with the wrong Joneses. Once I understood this, I adjusted my model so that my business goals and my personal interests were in alignment. Interestingly, this led to greater success in both. I discovered a similar pattern with my professional development process. Early in my career, I attended a lot of educational conferences while also reading all the popular books on business and personal development. Because, that is what entrepreneurs were supposed to do. After a while, I realized that I was hearing the same messages presented over and over—they were just labeled differently. The Seven Steps became the Four Cornerstones which became the Five Easy Pieces. Same principles, different titles. After a while, I stopped attending so many conferences and eliminated most business and self-improvement books from my reading list. Now, I attend a conference once in a while and the books I like to read are often autobiographies or they focus on mindfulness and cooking. So, rather than learning the seven steps to success from a famous CEO, I try to discern life and business lessons from meditation experts, rock stars, comedians, and chefs. I find that these books are more interesting to read and the lessons are just as valuable. So, do I think you ought to do what I did? Absolutely not. But what you “should” do (couldn’t resist) is to consider if the Joneses you’re trying to keep up with are the right ones for you. Do you feel pressure to meet the expectations of others? Are the people who expect things of you the kind of people you aspire to be? Is there a part of you that feels unexplored or unexpressed? Is there a gap between where you are and where you want to be? If so, maybe you’ve gotten caught up in a comparison cycle trying to keep up with the wrong Joneses. One way we can all explore this a bit more is to think about those people who share our values, our interests, and our aspirations. We can pay attention to how they approach life and work, and rather than compare our own life to theirs, consider how their underlying principles might apply to us. I’ve seen so many so-called successful people who are not that happy and have actually damaged important personal relationships on their way to success. When we do this, we may find short-term, materialistic success but ultimately end up with long-term discontent. Maybe, you aspire to be a Bill Gates, a Serena Williams, a Jimmy Carter, or a Mother Theresa. Whoever you aspire to be, make sure you’re following their example—for the right reasons. Not because you should, but because it aligns with who you are. Then, perhaps, you’re be keeping up with the right Joneses. Planning your next event? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to schedule your ideal speaker and make your event a success! By Ron Culberson. With a master’s degree in social work, Ron Culberson spent the first part of his career working in a large hospice organization as a clinical social worker, middle manager, and senior leader. As a speaker, humorist, and author of "Do it Well. Make it Fun.The Key to Success in Life, Death, and Almost Everything in Between", he has delivered more than 1,000 presentations to associations, government agencies, non-profit organizations, and corporations. His mission is to change the workplace culture so that organizations are more productive and staff are more content. He was also the 2012-2013 president of the National Speakers Association and is a recognized expert on the benefits of humor and laughter.
Did you ever wake up in the morning and think, “How did I get here?” I’m not suggesting that you had too many fuzzy navels on spring break or that aliens abducted you in the middle of the night. I’m referring to that realization that occurs when we’re at a certain point in our lives and we’re not quite sure how we got there. Well, as someone once said, “Time flies whether you’re having fun or not.” My wife and I often talk about what we want to do when we “retire.” I just turned sixty and she’s close behind. We have no desire to work in our jobs longer than we have to. That does not mean that we will retire to a “home” or require our food to be pureed. We plan use our newfound free time to serve our community, spend time with friends and family, and maybe even do something that generates a bit of revenue. The point of our chat was to plan for our future. Rather than just spinning the wheel and seeing where life takes us, we’d like to carve out a routine that it is both meaningful and worthwhile. Even though we’re not sure what our retirement will look like, there is great wisdom in the concept that where we are today is a result of our thinking yesterday. In keeping with that philosophy, where we will be tomorrow is a result of our thinking today. In fact, when we look back, we can see how this plays out. Over the past few months, I’ve had the pleasure of working on a documentary film about my college band, or to be specific, the Award Winning University of Virginia, Fighting Cavalier, Indoor/Outdoor, Precision(?), Marching Pep Band and Chowder Society Review Unlimited, henceforth more succinctly referred to as “the Pep Band.” It’s an idea that bubbled up unexpectedly and has grown into a wonderful project. Several years ago, I was having dinner with my college friend, Dan McKeon, and his wife Kit. Dan was also in the Pep Band and whenever we get together, we tell band stories. Now, those of you who were members of a marching band probably have stories as well. But I would venture to guess that your stories are a bit different from ours. You see, we were a scramble-style joke band. We did not march in perfectly even blocks or company fronts. Instead, we ran chaotically around the field, while the announcer told a joke. We then settled into a funny image on the field and played an appropriate piece of music to accompany the joke. For example, during one show, the announcer said, “Would the owner of ten thousand dollars in small, unmarked, non-sequential bills, wrapped in rubber bands, please report to the ticket office. (Pause for effect) We have your rubber bands.” The band then formed a dollar sign and played Pink Floyd’s song, “Money.” For four years, I was part of the committee that wrote the jokes, designed the field formations, and chose the music for the Pep Band shows. During my last year, I was in charge of the committee. It was an amazing experience and the performances were very popular with the students, especially since the performance of the football team was not. Unfortunately, after a series of humor controversies and a few run-ins with the athletic department, the band was formally disbanded, so to speak, in 2002. At that fateful dinner with Dan and Kit a few years ago, Kit looked up after our tenth or eleventh Pep Band story and said, “This would make a great documentary.” And thus, the idea was hatched. Fast forward to the present day and I’m working with director Chris Farina to develop, film, and release a documentary about this unique band and our extraordinary experience in it. Recently the University of Virginia’s alumni magazine published a brilliant piece, written by Ed Miller, on the band’s history. To read the article click here: Pep Banned Article. To hear a radio show where Ed and I were interviewed about the article, click here: Sunday Morning Wake Up Call Over the past few weeks, I’ve been communicating with donors, former classmates, and band members who have shared their funny, bizarre, and heartwarming memories of the band. In the process of listening to the tales and doing my own reflection, I realized that where I am today has a lot to do with those four years in the UVA Pep Band. For one, I learned to write humor. I’ve never considered myself a gifted writer nor a comedian. But I learned about the mechanics of humor while writing jokes on the Pep Band Show Committee about our opposing teams, current events, or the terrible food in the university cafeteria. Ideas would be tossed around, lines would be written, and then we would edit until we had the perfect joke. I discovered that punchlines always went at the very end of a joke. Words with K or P were funnier. And jokes about beer were always popular among colleges students. A second lesson I learned was how to work on a team. We needed everyone on our committee from the funny people to the English majors to the music geeks. Everybody contributed to the success of the show by sharing their unique perspective. Third, I learned about leadership. During my last year in the band, I was one of the two Field Conductors (a position shared with my friend Dave Linkous), which meant that we were responsible for managing the Show Committee, and for leading the rehearsals and performances on the field. I quickly learned that if I yelled at band members who were not following directions, they would most likely resist my future requests. I also learned that if I had a good relationship with the band’s Music Director, the band’s Administrative Director, and the university’s Athletic Director, the work proceeded much more smoothly. And lastly, I learned about the power of humor to bring people together. Oh sure, we stepped on a few toes over the years and perhaps we could have done some things differently. But when we delivered a perfectly constructed joke with great accompanying music, we were rewarded with a chorus of laughter and applause from the stands. It was Humor Nirvana. I wish I had had the foresight to understand these valuable lessons at the time. Honestly, I just wanted to have fun and make people laugh. If I’d known I was developing skills that I would use today, I might have been more purposeful in honing them as I got older. But that’s how life is. Sometimes we’re on a particular path for a long time before we realize it. Yet, when we stop and think attentively about what we’re doing and where it’s taking us, we might instead wake up one morning and say, “This is exactly where I thought I’d be.” Indeed, where we’ve been is how we got here. Before closing, I thought I’d share one more line from a Pep Band show: “Now for the first time ever on the Scott Stadium Astroturf, the Pep Band presents its world-famous precision drill. Yes, that’s right, it’s a Black and Decker Precision Drill!” Planning your next event? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to schedule your ideal speaker and make your event a success! By Ron Culberson. With a master’s degree in social work, Ron Culberson spent the first part of his career working in a large hospice organization as a clinical social worker, middle manager, and senior leader. As a speaker, humorist, and author of "Do it Well. Make it Fun.The Key to Success in Life, Death, and Almost Everything in Between", he has delivered more than 1,000 presentations to associations, government agencies, non-profit organizations, and corporations. His mission is to change the workplace culture so that organizations are more productive and staff are more content. He was also the 2012-2013 president of the National Speakers Association and is a recognized expert on the benefits of humor and laughter.
An old television commercial showed a woman describing the many demands in her life and when she finally got to her breaking point, she looked towards the heavens and said, “Calgon, take me away.” She was immediately transported to an overly sudsy bathtub and relieved of all the stress in her life. I’m not sure if any religion actually recommends the use of Calgon as its spiritual cleanser but I do like the simplicity of summoning bath bubbles from the heavens as a way to escape the challenges of life and work. After what seems like a lifetime of health, political, and economic challenges, I suspect we could all use a sudsy tub of Calgon to take us away. However, I think humor is another option that helps us handle stress—but without the suds and the need to get naked. You see, when all we see is stress, that’s all we will experience. Yet, if we can see something else in the very midst of the stress, we can experience a respite from it. Let me give you a few examples. After a long time of being off the road, I am now speaking at in-person events again. But I must admit that my traveling skills are a bit rusty. A couple of weeks ago, I spoke at a very nice resort in Pennsylvania. While masks were not required for those of us who were vaccinated, I chose to wear one because I would be interacting with a lot of people. As most of you know, communicating with a mask is challenging. First of all, you can’t see the other person’s facial expressions and surprisingly, it’s hard to judge non-verbal cues just by looking at someone’s eyes. And further, our words often sound garbled. When I got to the resort, the front desk clerk said, “Do you frmpth dus chngl stld?” I nodded, assuming he had asked if I was checking in. He then pointed towards the door. I was confused. As a college student, I was kicked out of a hotel or two but as a responsible adult, I have never been turned away before I even checked in. I pulled my mask down and said, “Pardon me?” He pulled his mask down and said, “Will you need to valet your car?” “Oh,” I said, “no thank you. I’ve already parked my car.” For the next few minutes, our conversation continued in this manner. There was initial confusion. That was followed by a clarifying question which actually led to more confusion. The confused confusion required our masks to be lowered so that we could speak unencumbered—which eventually resulted in a mutual understanding, a wink of acknowledgement, and a quick replacing of the masks. Finally, after much effort, the check-in process was complete. The front desk clerk then lowered his mask once again and said, “To get to your room you need to go down that corridor over there until you get to the first restaurant. Then turn left and go up the ramp to the atrium. Beside the gift shop in the atrium, which is different from the emporium by the way, you’ll see a set of elevators. Those are not your elevators. Go past those elevators until you pass the jewelry store on your left and the coffee shop on your right. Take the hallway on the left behind the display case showing early American drinking containers. After a few hundred yards down that hallway, you will arrive at your elevators.” Confidently, having heard every unmasked word, I headed off. After fifteen minutes and being certain that I had crossed into the state of Ohio, I could not find a restaurant, a gift shop, or any elevators. In the process, I passed through the lobby three times. Finally, on my third trip the lobby bartender said, “Can I help you?” I told him I would appreciate his help. He then took out a map of the resort and said, “You’re right here and you need to go there.” With the map in hand and his encouragement behind me, I was sure I could find the elevators. Ten minutes later, I was next to what appeared to be the boiler room in front of a door with a sign that read, “Do not open or alarm will sound.” I felt like I was in the movie Spinal Tap.“Hello Cleveland!” I finally found a member of the housekeeping staff who kindly escorted me to my room. At this point, I just wanted to unpack and relax. Unfortunately, I couldn’t figure out how to turn on the lights in my room. I pushed several buttons but nothing happened. I hit what looked like a switch and a light came on, but then immediately went off. I ultimately had to search Google for instructions to get all of the lights on. Feeling that I had triumphantly defeated this newfangled technology, I fell back onto the bed exhausted—and off went the lights. The next morning when I started my presentation, I said, “Did anyone else have trouble working the lights in your room?” The audience burst out laughing and heads nodded all around the room. It was in that moment that I realized I had not fully embraced the humor that had been right in front of me the day before. Instead, I got caught up in my frustrations rather than the absurdity of the moment. When we can appreciate the absurdity, the frustrations lose their grip on us. Similarly, I was discussing the use of masks with a woman attending a conference in Ohio. Due to the resurgence of the virus, she said, “At my Catholic church, we’ve now gone back to masks on Zoom.” Now I know that some organizations are very cautious when it comes to the virus, but wearing a mask while on Zoom seemed a bit over the top. I asked her why they would need masks on Zoom and she said, “No, we’ve gone back to mass on Zoom.” We had a wonderful laugh about my mass-understanding and once again, I was grateful to see that humor was there for the taking. Lastly, after paying for my meal at a restaurant in Illinois, the waiter came back with my credit card and said, “My one isn’t working.” I had no idea what he meant. I considered that he might be making a reference to God and that perhaps, he had found that he was no longer confident in The One? So, I said, “Your one what?” He said, “Oh, somebody spilled beer on the credit card machine last week and now, the one button doesn’t work. So, can I charge you twenty dollars, instead of fourteen, and then give you six dollars back in cash…since my one doesn’t work?” I told him that would be just fine. And then, after writing down what he said, I laughed all the way back to the hotel. Even in the midst of our journeys, our masks, and our spills, there is usually humor nearby. If you can see it, I think it has the potential to take you away, just like Calgon, to a better state of mind and a better experience. Planning your next event? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to schedule your ideal speaker and make your event a success! By Ron Culberson. With a master’s degree in social work, Ron Culberson spent the first part of his career working in a large hospice organization as a clinical social worker, middle manager, and senior leader. As a speaker, humorist, and author of "Do it Well. Make it Fun.The Key to Success in Life, Death, and Almost Everything in Between", he has delivered more than 1,000 presentations to associations, government agencies, non-profit organizations, and corporations. His mission is to change the workplace culture so that organizations are more productive and staff are more content. He was also the 2012-2013 president of the National Speakers Association and is a recognized expert on the benefits of humor and laughter.
When I mow the yard, I think. And I think. And I think. Between the repetitive movement across the grass and the loud noise from the mower, there is not much else to do. It’s not like I can call up a neighbor and engage in a pleasant conversation about how his grass is growing. So, I think. The problem is, I can think myself into a stressful state of mind if I’m not careful. And this is the problem with overthinking. It can take us to a place where we might not need to go. Now don’t get me wrong. I suspect most of us are proud of our place at the top of the animal hierarchy and attribute most of our success to the ability to think. I’m sure the lowly beetle who mechanically goes about his daily tasks would love to have our gray matter and might just take issue with the fact that we’re not better at managing the thinking process. It’s like the line in Spiderman, “With great power comes great responsibility.” But let’s get back to my yard. The last time I mowed, I kept replaying in my head a conversation I recently had with a friend. Now, before I tell you what I said, let me give you some context about my particular style of communicating with others. I’m a big believer in asking questions to expand my understanding of people, situations, and the world in general. I learned this technique during my social work training when our professors repeatedly encouraged it. They taught us to explore another person’s experience rather than assuming that we know where the individual is coming from. So, whenever someone has a different life experience than me (which is, by the way, always), I tend to ask questions about their experience. Over the years, I’ve had candid conversations about sexual orientation, race, religion, politics, and even the highly controversial debate on whether to mow one’s yard horizontally or diagonally—all because I was willing to ask. And surprisingly, no one has ever hit me! Instead, I think it helped me build better relationships and a greater understanding of others. Now, back to conversation I was replaying in my head as I mowed. My friend is Korean and I was curious about something I had read about status and hierarchy in Asian cultures. Specifically, I wanted to know if it was taboo to challenge authority. I had recently been involved in a situation where I suspected this might have happened and wanted my friend’s perspective. For what it’s worth, I did mention that I realized this was a generalization but was curious what he thought. He gave me several different insights that all made good sense. So, I thanked him for his input and then asked him whether he mowed his yard horizontally or diagonally. He seemed perplexed by the new line of questioning. As I headed home that day, I began to wonder if I had inadvertently offended him by asking a potentially stereotypical question. I had explained to him questions like this are my way of gaining a better understanding of others as well as to explore my own biases. He seemed to appreciate my explanation but later, I worried that he was just being nice. So, as I criss-crossed my yard a few days later, I kept thinking about the conversation and ultimately convinced myself that he thought I was a rude. Then, a couple of days after that, the news media reported several incidences of violence against Asian American people and I was sure my questions now had the potential of being both terribly untimely and outright offensive. After not being able to get this off my mind, I finally followed up with my friend to see if he thought my questions were insensitive. He said he was surprised that I would even think that. He said that he appreciated the questions and further, that he had enjoyed our conversation. Go figure. So, the worry bouncing around in my head was way off base. I had created a problem that did not exist. And the culprit was the the solitary act of mowing. OK, the real problem was my thinking. By creating an issue that wasn’t an issue, I worked myself into a frenzy. But it doesn’t have to be this way. Luckily, we can rein in the thinking process the same way we use a bag to catch the grass when we mow. However, before we can address the problem we must first notice that it’s happening. You see, our reality at any given moment may not resemble the thinking that’s going on in our head. For example, if someone waves at you in a crowded mall and you have no idea who they are, you can easily spend the next hour searching Facebook or scrolling through your address book trying to figure out who the heck it was. But what if they were waving to someone behind you? Your mind created a problem that did not really exist and you lost an hour of your life dealing with it. I think the most reasonable way to handle our mind’s overactive imagination is to do one of two things. First, we can confirm our suspicions by asking, exploring, and seeking validation of the thinking. This will either confirm or deny our worries. The second way to handle it is to acknowledge that it’s happening but not allow ourselves to be drawn down the rabbit hole of worry. So, if I was worried that I had offended my friend, I could have asked him in the moment. Or, I could recognize my mind’s tendency to create stress while simultaneously recognizing that I had approached him in a sincere and respectful way, and therefore, he was not likely bothered by it. Either of these techniques would have made my mowing experience so much more relaxing. So, is this mind taming thing simple to do? Not really. In fact, as you can see, I’ve struggled with it as recently as my last yard mowing experience. Achieving an awareness of how our mind works and mastering the process to manage it can take years of practice. But just like life, and mowing our yards for that matter, it’s an ongoing work in progress. And just in case you’re wondering, I alternate the direction of my mower each week making sure to cover diagonal, vertical, and horizontal directions. I know, it’s brilliant! Planning your next event? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to schedule your ideal speaker and make your event a success! |
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