The lesson is about finding joy even when you think you can’t.

It serves as the inspiration for this post.

The Batshit Crazy Suggestion That Worked

Ruth’s was the first yoga class I attended last year, and I give her a lot of credit for helping me get through those first few weeks and months when my muscles and joints felt like they might snap … and when an unbiased observer of my yoga practice might have said, “Well, I sure hope that poor whale is able to flail itself off the beach and back into the ocean.”

Nearly a year later, I can touch my toes, salute the sun with my eyes closed, keep my breath fairly steady throughout class, and I even held bakasana - crow pose – for 5-6 seconds earlier this week.

It’s taken a lot of consistent hard work. Yoga is definitely not easy, especially in the beginning. But it’s never felt like work. The transformations I’ve made haven’t been easy, they’ve just felt easy.

And the reason for this goes back to the lesson I learned from Ruth in that very first class.

Ask any consistent practitioner of yoga what their three least favorite poses are, and I bet 90% say utkatasana — chair pose. (Back in my basketball-playing days, standing like this against a wall was punishment for doing something dumb during practice.)

Rarely will you go through a yoga class without sinking down into utkatasana, often being forced to hold it for excruciating periods of time while diabolical teachers like Ruth walk around telling you to “sink lower” as they revel in your pain and misery. The worst of the worst will tell you, “Almost done!” before seconds later saying, “Okay, just eight more breaths!”

All you want to do is rescue your quads by either standing up or collapsing back onto your mat, but you can’t. Because there is Ruth, making the rounds, her watchful eye seemingly using forces of telepathy to simultaneously lower all of the trembling asses in the room an inch or two more back towards the floor.

It is right about this time, when your thighs’ lives are passing right before their eyes, that Ruth will say the most rigoddamndiculous thing you’ve ever heard:

“Smile!”

Smile? You think to yourself. Are you serious? I couldn’t smile if Shakira came and did a hip tease right here in front of my mat!

But you came to class to follow instructions. Thus, you decide to follow this one too, as batshit crazy as it sounds.

So you smile.

As you do, Ruth tells you to “Find your joy.” She instructs you to think about or visualize something that makes you happy.

So you think about a girl’s pretty smile. You think about your post-workout meal. You think about your dog. You think about how grateful you are for your family’s continued health. You think about how lucky you are to have two functioning quads you can punish so mercilessly.

Then funny things start to happen: your quads hurt a bit less; your mind strays from the pain and gets back to focusing on breathing; seconds that were passing like minutes start passing like seconds again.

Before you know it you are being instructed to “Forward fold!” … and forward fold you do, your quads feeling the sweet joy of relief and your mind realizing you could have actually gone a little bit longer.

Could just the simple of act of smiling – even if it was a forced smile – have actually made these painful moments not just bearable but … enjoyable?

Now you’re going to think I’m batshit crazy…

Did You Know … Smiling Causes Joy?

The answer is yes. Smiling caused joy, which in turn allowed me to power through a tough moment with vigor.

This is an integral part of why yoga has never felt like ‘working out’ and why my hard-earned fitness gains of the past year haven’t felt hard at all. In the toughest moments, I just smile. I think of something I’m grateful for, I distract my brain from the pain with gratitude, and my muscle memory does the heavy lifting.

It’s a lesson I’ve learned has application well beyond the yoga mat.

Because I’m not batshit crazy. And neither is Ruth. The fact is, smiling causes happiness. And that’s, like, backed up by science and stuff.

Seems a little counter-intuitive though, doesn’t it? We usually think that people are smiling and energetic because they are happy. But maybe they are happy and energetic because they are smiling. (Argue with that logic if you want to; just know YOU’RE ARGUING WITH SCIENCE.)

I can only speak for myself, but I can tell you that it works for me.

Just a few hours ago I was lifting weights. I was on my last set of a particular exercise and struggling to reach my goal number of reps. I smiled. I miraculously found a little bit of extra strength and energy to finish the set.

When I get stuck in traffic, I choose to smile. The frustration fades away.

Even when I just wake up on the wrong side of the bed. I smile. It doesn’t always make things perfect, but it sure does make them better.

I’m not saying smiling is a panacea. If you are stressed about debt and smile about it, your debt and stress do not magically go away. If you get your heart broken, and you choose to smile, the pieces aren’t instantaneously sewn back together.

But maybe by smiling you can push your stress away for a moment and devise a proactive plan to dig yourself out.

And maybe by smiling you can appreciate the love that made your heart breakable in the first place, in the process purging yourself of some of the negativity weighing you down.

I’m reading a book right now called One Small Step Can Change Your Life. It’s about the principle of kaizen — the art of making great and lasting change through small, steady increments. It’s a principle that has worked as a change agent in business as well as for people in their personal lives. (And yes, its effectiveness is also backed up by science.)

What greater, easier, more immediate small step can be there than smiling?

And what greater timing can there be for a smile than when it’s least expected? It’s easy to smile when the going is easy. That’s why it means so much more to smile when the going is tough.

Take it from me, someone who thought it was crazy the first time I heard it: just smile.

Find your joy.

It works.

It just might be a small step that leads to you changing your life for the better.

This is true in part because of how it feels on the tongue when you say it. Not many words make love to the mouth and cuddle the ear like ‘serendipity.’

But an even bigger reason why I love the word so much is because of what it represents: a happy accident; an unexpected bit of good fortune; a surprise blessing from out of the blue.

Yet, to simply ascribe serendipity to accidents or happenstance is to miss an essential element of the concept itself.

The circumstances from which serendipity arises may not be in our control, but our willingness to embrace them once presented most certainly is.

It’s only an accident until we make it a happy one; it’s only an unexpected bit until we spin it into good fortune; it’s just a random event out of the blue until we hug it into being a surprise blessing.

I’m not telling you anything that isn’t already in the definition:

• Dictionary.com: an aptitude for making desirable discoveries by accident.
• Merriam-Webster.com: the faculty or phenomenon of finding valuable or agreeable things not sought for.

The two most important words are ‘aptitude’ and ‘faculty.’ And as if to drive home the point, each definition begins with them.

We must be open to serendipity. We must be willing to embrace the weird, wonderful, wacky circumstances life presents and find the happy accidents, unexpected good fortune, and surprise blessings within them. Because they are everywhere.

The person sitting next to you on the airplane. (Who later becomes your flame.)

The random friend request from the person you don’t know. (Who quickly becomes an inspirational friend.)

The chance meeting at a coffee shop with a friend of a friend. (Who later becomes your business partner.)

You could sit silently with your headphones on reading a magazine. You could ignore requests from people you don’t know. You could choose not to follow-up on a friend-of-a-friend’s offer.

Or you could choose to be open to serendipity. You could choose to develop your aptitude for it.

Maybe you hope for serendipity. Don’t.

Serendipitous circumstances are everywhere. They are omnipresent in your life. They come, they go, and each time you have a choice to be open to them or to ignore them.

You never know when the next ‘best thing’ in your life could be right there in front of you. Choose serendipity and find out.

*****

Choose serendipity and let it bless your life. It worked for them.

Sushi was her name.

I’m told that Sushi’s favorite song was “Angel” by Jack Johnson, that she was the quintessential trooper even in her final days, and even without having met her I know that she was loving, loyal, and beautiful inside and out.

Sushi, loyal friend and companion, moved on to her comfy bed in Doggie Heaven today at age 13.

Unfortunately, Sushi was epileptic, had a heart murmur, and suffered from growths that occasionally bled out. It was this latter malady that reared its ugly head yesterday, forcing an emergency visit to see Sushi’s cardiac specialist to find out if she could make it through surgery.

The answer, perhaps inevitably, was no.

A Difficult But Loving Choice

The ensuing choice for my friend was obvious, but no less difficult to make. She was strong as she told me about her choice, but sobs snuck through, hinting at the sadness no words could ameliorate.

Today, Sushi was relieved of her suffering and laid to rest. She was 13 years old. She is survived by her brother Chopsticks (or Sticks, for short).

Tonight, she is resting peacefully in a warm bed, surely with home-baked treats nearby. When she wakes up, Sushi will move around without pain or murmur. She’ll be happy. Doggie Heaven is a wonderful place.

And how could it not be? Made up, as it is, of such wonderful creatures.

I’ve experienced my friend’s anguish and powerlessness vicariously over the past 24 hours. I’ve been able to empathize because I’ve sat in veterinary waiting rooms, awaiting word on tests and experimental surgeries, not knowing if I’d ever get to walk, wrestle, or reprimand my little buddy again.

My favorite picture of Rebel.

I’ve been fortunate thus far that my 7-and-a-half pound fighter – pound for pound the most resilient dog you can imagine – has yet to exhaust his cat-like nine lives. He’ll turn 9 this August, which is amazing considering his elevator misadventures, appetite for rat poison, multiple knee surgeries, and nearly exploding gall bladder.

But there he was, just moments ago, bounding towards our apartment door with zeal and vigor at the mere mention of the word “outside.”

I thought of my friend, and I thought of Sushi, and I thought of how much each would of them would cherish one more walk, one more couch cuddle session, one more pat behind the ears, or one more lick upon the face.

Sometimes it can be easy to take a nighttime walk for granted, to rush through it, especially when there are other things to be done and when it’s cold out. Not tonight.

There isn’t always tomorrow. Which is why today must never be taken for granted.

As I walked Rebel, I thought about how someday, hopefully many, many years from now, I’ll be in that position again: waiting on a vet, waiting on word. Perhaps readying myself to make the most difficult of difficult decisions. It was a somber thought.

It’s what my friend faced today. Somehow, she did so with grace, and with strength, and with love. She found a way to realize that she was actually in a positive position of being able to release Sushi from her painful present and send her on into her peaceful future. By taking it, she gave Sushi back her life.

By saying her final goodbye, my friend actually made her greatest pronouncement of love.

The Greatness of Dogs

And dogs deserve nothing less from us. They deserve as much love as it is in our capacity to give. For they give so much and ask for so little. It is their essence.

I’ve loved dogs for as long as I can remember. We had a family dog growing up, and my best friends had dogs in college. I finally got my own dog not long after I graduated college, and little Rebel and I have navigated the choppy waters of the real world together ever since.

A lot has changed in that time. People have come and gone. Residences and jobs have changed. Habbits and hobbies have started, been abandoned, and started again. But the one constant, through all these post-college years, has been Rebel. (Okay, and my family too, but they aren’t there wagging their tails every day when I get home.)

And yet even with all of the appreciation I have for what Rebel has meant in my life, I’ve been able to grow even more fond of dogs over the last couple of months. And for that I have my friend Ashley to thank, for she introduced me to the great fun of walking rescue dogs on Saturday morning for DFW Rescue Me.

This is Duke, and he’s a badass…but a loving, friendly, huggable one.

I went on a lark one Saturday morning, not knowing what to expect but certainly not figuring it would become a weekly ritual. And yet it’s become just that. It’s become 90 of my most anticipated minutes each week. And all because dogs, simply put, are awesome. They are the greatest creatures on earth.

I’m reminded of this fact every Saturday when I visit these dogs who just want to be love and be loved, but who have been needlessly abandoned. Thank goodness for organizations like DFW Rescue Me, who give these wonderful beings another chance at finding the unconditional love they give and and so desperately seek.

If you love dogs, find an organization like DFW Rescue Me where you live. Find out how you can volunteer, even if it’s just an hour or two once a week. It will make a difference for the organization, for the dogs, and most of all … for you.

I’m sure Duke and Sugar and Gavin and Treavor and Felix and all of the other dogs I get to walk on Saturdays enjoy the running, the hugs, the scratching behind the ears, and the treats. What they might not realize is just how much I enjoy it too.

*****

Dear sweet Sushi passed on today, but she did not make her way into Doggie Heaven in vain.

Having to say goodbye to her filled my friend with sadness, but the happy memories will soon win out, and they will live on forever.

Hearing of Sushi’s passing reminded me, specifically, to appreciate every moment I have with my own little pup, as well as how much I enjoy Saturday mornings with the rescue dogs.

And more generally, Sushi’s passing reminded me that we owe it to our dogs to show them love as often as we remember too.

Of course, even if we succeed in doing this, we’ll still be operating at a love deficit of a factor roughly equivalent to 100 to 1. Because while we humans, busy as we are with the hustle and bustle of our lives, sometimes need to be reminded not to take our dogs for granted, they never need the reminder. They are always there. They love unconditionally.

Incredibly, just by being what they were born to be, dogs teach us to be better versions of ourselves. Because every single one of us can learn to love a little better, a little deeper, a little more fully. Dogs do it already, as naturally as they breathe.

It’s why they are the greatest creatures on earth.

Rest in peace Sushi.

This can be a tricky question to answer, especially when posed by a current love interest.

But should it be?

I don’t think so. I’ve just never seen it explained so perfectly as it is in the video.

This video speaks for itself, so I have no profound essay to write in response. Just a few random thoughts that were running through my head as it ended.

Our past experiences make us who we are today. And all of our past loves influence our ability to give and feel love in the present.

If we cannot discuss our pasts openly and honestly with those we do love or want to love now, how can we ever expect the love to be anything more than superficial.

Do you have your Who, What, When, Where, and Why? I do.

My favorite part of watching this video was thinking about each of these incredible women that I was lucky enough to love, and the lasting impressions they’ve left on me. I will love the next one deeper and more fully because of them. And I will be able to receive love more openly because of them.

Love is what life is all about. Be proud of who you’ve loved and who has loved you. And be excited to share.

In the stories of our lives, the most important chapters are the ones during which we were in love. So when we tell our story, we cannot leave them out. Otherwise it’s not our story that we’re telling.

And if someone really loves you, or if he or she is moving in that direction, then that person will want to know your story. All of your story. And vice versa. So tell it. All of it.

My favorite line in the entire video, at 5:59 mark:

One of the greatest gifts we have of being alive is the ability to give, receive, and even lose love.

So never settle until you find that someone who is all five. The sixth. The Last.

*****

I hope you took from the video as much as I did. Please feel encouraged to share your thoughts below.

“You spilled the salt, that’s what’s the matter! Spilling the salt is very bad luck! We’re driving across the country, the last thing we need is bad luck. Quick, toss some salt over your right shoulder.”  ~ Lloyd Christmas

We determine so many future outcomes simply by what we expect to happen.

No, not everything will turn out the way I expect it to. Nor will everything for you. But more often than not, our experiences will be heavily influenced by our expectations going into them.

And this is why I purchased a special 3-Disc edition of Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours at 11:30 pm Saturday night at a Wal-Mart in Waco, Texas.

Why We Had To Stop at the Waco Wal-Mart

A friend and I decided to take an impromptu trip to Austin this weekend. It’s only about a three hour drive from Dallas, so it’s the perfect destination for a spontaneous weekend getaway.

Our trip there began late Saturday evening, and I was informed shortly upon embarking that we’d be making a pit stop about halfway there.

“We have to stop at the Wal-Mart in Waco and buy a CD,” my traveling companion stated, matter-of-factly.

“Why?” I asked, quite curiously.

“Because every time I buy a CD at that Wal-Mart on the way to Austin, it’s a great trip. And every time I don’t, something goes wrong.”

That was enough for me.

She went on to describe specifics about great times had when CDs were purchased, contrasted with disastrous trips that did not include a CD purchase. But the details were of little importance.

This was a two-person trip. If one person in our duo would be forced into a sense of foreboding all weekend because we didn’t stop to buy a CD, which was clearly her implication, that apprehension was likely to manifest in reality somehow.

Just as Lloyd Christmas wasn’t about to let the spilling of salt ruin his and Harry’s trip to Aspen, I was not about to let my desire to make good time getting to Austin override my respect for the power of our minds to dictate our realities.

So when we reached Waco, we stopped.

This particular Wal-Mart does not have a copious CD collection, so our choices were limited to modern pop hits, a few oldies, some country music, and a few Spanish-language tunes. I was in a Fleetwood Mac kind of mood, and a special 3-disc set with demo and live versions of the Rumours tracks was available, so we went with that.

Appropriately, getting through the checkout Wal-Mart checkout line took nearly a half hour. While waiting, we had the joy of watching a probably-methed-out mother try to parent her young, unruly child while a parade of Wal-Mart employees tried, unsuccessfully, to perform basic functions of commerce at the register.

I joked that this was only happening because we had yet to purchase the CD, thus we had not yet thwarted the Austin Road Trip Curse.

As it turned out, that checkout line misadventure was the last thing that went “wrong” during the trip. But a great many things went wonderfully well (including and especially the food. Mmmm…).

And yes, I think buying that CD had more than a little bit to do with it.

Create Positive Expectations and Eliminate Regret

As soon as she mentioned her CD tradition, a seed was planted. We had the choice to let the seed burgeon into something good or something bad.

By going to Wal-Mart, we eliminated any potential regret we might otherwise had left Austin with on Monday morning. “See, if we’d only stopped at Wal-Mart and bought a CD, then THAT wouldn’t have happened.”

You can argue that stopping at Wal-Mart for the CD had absolutely zero to do with our weekend being discolored by disaster. Maybe you’re right.

Maybe our car would not have been stricken by a flat tire a few miles after we zoomed past the Wal-Mart without stopping (which, yes, was my immediate fear as soon as she told me the Wal-Mart CD story). And maybe I wouldn’t have gone instantaneously and ridiculously pale and bald.

There is no way to know for sure.

Maybe to you, in this particular case, stopping or not stopping would have had no bearing on your expectations for the weekend.

But remove the specifics from the story. The point is simple, and universal: our future is, in part, determined by our expectations.

And since positive expectations beget positive results, and vice versa, it only makes sense to protect positive thoughts and expectations with decisions that will reinforce them. It keeps positive momentum going.

And momentum in life, as it is in sports, can be a very powerful thing.

Plus, as I get older, I become more and more committed to making decisions based on this simple criteria: will I possibly regret not doing it? If the answer is yes, I do it – whatever it is.

In this case, there was no way I’d regret making the stop at Wal-Mart. But if something went wrong during the weekend, I sure would have regretted not stopping, both because of the I-told-you-sos and because I’d have kicked myself for tempting fate so flippantly.

Do I know for sure that there isn’t something cosmically relevant about her stopping at Wal-Mart on the way to Austin to buy a CD that dictates the success of the trip? No, I don’t. And there are just enough inexplicable, amazing miracles in this world that I don’t rule anything out.

Mostly though, it comes down to managing expectations. If not stopping would have given her one iota of apprehension based on past experience, no matter how infinitesimally small, it wasn’t worth it.

So we stopped, and not only did it propel us towards an enjoyable weekend in a great city, we got to supplement our Spotify jamming with some classic Classic Rock. A definite win-win.

While this story may be second hand news to you, and you are free to go your own way when it comes to how much stock you put into this theory on expectation creating reality, I can tell you that I’m never going back again to Austin, with her, without stopping at that Wal-Mart and buying a CD.

As for you, well, don’t stop at your own risk.

*****

There are the tired criticisms about how it’s really just part of some sinister plot hatched by Hallmark and flower companies to get us men to spend money on cards, flowers, and chocolate.

There are videos espousing the many reasons why Valentine’s Day, supposedly, sucks.

There is even a Facebook page called “Valetine’s Day sucks” that has 10,703 likes.

You, reading this right now, may very well agree. You may hate Valentine’s Day. You may consider it gratuitous or – if you’re among the conspiracists alluded to above – nefarious even.

Well I am here to tell all the Valentine’s Day haters that you’re wrong.

Love Deserves a Holiday

This is a great holiday. In fact, as I’ve gotten older, it’s become one of my favorites. And the reason why I like Valentine’s Day is pretty simple, which makes sense because the idea behind Valentine’s Day is pretty simple.

It’s a day reserved for showing people that you love and care about that you love and care about that.

And what, exactly, is wrong with that?

Immediately, this will be met with the following rebuttal: but you shouldn’t need a specific day to show people you care about them; you should it every day!

Fine. Point granted. I agree.

But life moves fast. None of us are perfect. Sometimes we forget. What is so wrong with setting aside a day where the expectation is that we’ll all make time to express love and care for the special people in our lives?

We have Thanksgiving, a day on which we make time to be thankful and enjoy good food and merriment with family.

We have July 4th, a day on which we make time to be thankful for our nation’s independence and liberty it provides each of us.

We have Veteran’s Day, a day on which we make time to appreciate the men and women who protect that liberty.

It sure seems to me like love – the most essential and wonderful of all emotions – deserves a day on which we make time to express it.

And that’s all Valentine’s Day is.

Shared Responsibility

If you allow yourself to get bogged down in the “hassle” of buying flowers, or making dinner reservations, or taking ten minutes to write out a thoughtful card, you’re thinking about it the wrong way.

This guy doesn’t get it. Don’t be this guy. (Image via FreakAngels.com)

These are not wastes of time or money. They are ways to put actions behind words.

Talk is cheap. Anyone can tell you they love you or care about you. But what do they do?

As men, it’s our responsibility to make the women we’re responsible for feeling loved…feel loved. Saying it is a great start. Doing something to show it is what really matters. That’s why the “silly” stuff like cards, flowers, candy, and making plans are important. They make the words mean something.

And ladies, Valentine’s Day shouldn’t simply be a day to sit back like the Queen of Everything and revel in selfishly in proclamations of love. (That’s what your birthday week is for.) You are expected to express your feelings all the same, and put a little action behind yourself. A card, making sure to show appreciation for the efforts made, even little things like being ready on time.

It’s give and take. A two way street. Love is, and thus so should be the rituals of Valetine’s Day.

An Opportunity, Not an Obligation

Ultimately it shouldn’t feel like an obligation. It’s an opportunity to do something special for someone special. That should be exciting.

It’s one day out of 365 when that inspiring, earth-moving, life-centering emotion of love is front and center. That’s awesome.

And it need not be just about romantic love. Which is why even single folks, or people who have dealt with heartbreak, perhaps even recently, need not lament Valentine’s Day. Just refocus the attention.

Focus on the the love for a parent. The love for a sibling. The love for a friend.

Do you know someone having a rough go of it? Tomorrow is a great opportunity to reach out and do something to make them smile. That’s an act of love. And it fits perfectly within what this day is supposed to be about.

Heck, I’m sure I’ll wish my pup Rebel a happy Valentine’s Day when I wake up tomorrow. Why not? Since when has showing someone that you have positive feelings for them ever been a negative?

Granted, I didn’t always think this way. But I find myself appreciating opportunities like tomorrow more and more. It probably has something to do with becoming more cognizant of showing gratitude and appreciation, as well as recognizing my own mortality.

None of us ever know when our last breath will come. It could come tomorrow. It could come in 80 years. Who knows? If yours came tomorrow, would the people special to you know it?

Take every opportunity you get to show it.

The Gift That Gives Twice

There is never a wrong time to make someone feel special by showing them how special they are to you. It will make them feel good, and it should make you feel good too. It’s the gift that gives twice, and it often only requires a small, but thoughtful, gesture.

Valentine’s Day should certainly not be the only day we do this. But the beauty of Valentine’s Day is that it makes us think about it, makes us remember; maybe it even breaks the ice if you’re one who has trouble showing emotions. You have to Valentine’s Day, right? Is that a bad thing if the subtle pressure of the day breaks you out of a comfort zone?

Because most of all, Valentine’s Day compels us to do something. And hopefully whatever you do has genuine feeling behind it and isn’t just out of a desire to avoid “trouble” or guilt.

Challenge yourself to better than that. You are.

If you’re feeling at all cynical about Valentine’s Day, try simplifying your thoughts by getting to the day’s essence: expressing love to someone else. And then actually do it.

You’ll make someone else’s day, and you might just make your own too.

And that’s what tomorrow is all about. It should be one of the best days of everyone’s year.

Happy Valentine’s Day friends.

Feel the love.

*****

When I think back to last night – actually, the wee morning hours of the very day that is now drawing to a close as I type this – shouting those words is the first thing that comes to mind.

The impetus for the exclamation was the sudden, jarring impact that left my car looking like this:

You might notice that the entire casing of the bumper is gone. Dead upon impact.

I said my heartfelt goodbye after dragging his poor, mangled corpse from the middle of the Dallas North Tollway off to the side of the road.

He died a hero’s death. Without his sacrifice, it might have been my mangled corpse being dragged from the middle of the Dallas North Tollway.

Heavy thought huh? Tell me about it. That’s the second thing that comes to mind when I think about last night:

Man, am I lucky.

My neck and lower back have grown increasingly sore as today has gone on, which is a concern. But here I am. Able to type. Able to tell the story of what happened.

To whatever guardian angel kept me from slamming my head against the steering wheel, kept my car from spinning out into the nearby wall, kept me…alive…just know that appreciation and gratitude bursts from my heart for you.

The news here in Dallas was dominated not long ago by the story of the Dallas Cowboys player who died because he was riding in the car with a teammate who was driving drunk. And just last week, leaving the very same Super Bowl I attended, family members of 49ers player Delanie Walker were killed after being slammed into by a drunk driver.

I suppose I should mention that.

The woman who slammed into me from behind, accelerating as she did so (at least that’s how it felt), appeared so intoxicated upon emerging from her vehicle that I’m not sure I can describe it in words.

It was so bad that my first thought upon seeing her – when she spilled out of the driver’s side of her totaled car amid a heavy cloud of smoke and holding something cigar-like in shape and color – was just…pity.

Sadness.

This woman had no idea where she was or what was going on. It was not surprising that she hadn’t thought to, or been able to, avoid smashing into the back of me as if trying to drive right through me.

This woman, unkempt in appearance, thought, and speech, literally had to be pulled out of the middle of the road to avoid being in harm’s way as traffic continued on past us. Fortunately, two cars’ worth of selfless, kindhearted people had stopped to help us. They protected this woman from herself.

So yeah, I can’t begin to express the gratitude I feel right now.

No, I’m not looking forward to having my neck and back looked at. I’m not looking forward to working with insurance companies. And I’m not looking forward to having to testify at the inevitable DUI hearing I’ll be called to. But I sure am looking forward to my next breath, and the one after that, and then the one after that.

I walked away. So many people have similar encounters with impaired drivers and do not. I’m lucky. At least I was last night. And I’m so grateful for it.

My apologies if the tone of this post is a bit…heavy. My thoughts are a bit heavy right now.

It’s a discombobulating experience, being hit from behind with zero warning – I don’t think her lights were on, because I had no idea another car was near me – and then realizing that in the consequential moments right after impact, I pretty much won the outcome lottery. It could have been so much worse.

And yet, it didn’t have to happen at all. And this is a thought that, frankly, fills me with a rather foreign feeling: anger.

Because I didn’t do a damn thing wrong. And lucky to be alive or not, I shouldn’t have to deal with with the inconveniences that await me.

Sure, you can argue with wisdom of being on the road at the time I was on the road. This was one hell of a reminder of the old adage that all of our parents have told us over and over again. Yes, I get it, the probability of encountering an impaired driver is certainly higher after Closing Time than during normal driving hours.

But my reason for being on the road was because I was driving someone home. And I did so with extra care and precaution because it started raining sideways not soon after we’d left. A 25-minute drive took over an hour. But we made it, she was home safely and soundly, and I was five minutes from being the same when I became an unwilling participant in Tollway bumper cars.

I’m not trying to be flippant in comparing it to bumper cars. That’s the best way I can describe the sensation of impact, because it’s the closest comparable personal experience I have.

I remember once doing bumper cars with the family and being blasted into from behind without realizing it was coming. It was shocking. Of course, it wasn’t TOO shocking because you’re always half-expecting to be hit when doing bumper cars. I had zero expectation of this, and the speed of impact was far greater.

“What the fuck just happened!?” indeed.

So as I write this, I am angry and a bit discombobulated. As fate would have it, I had to make the very same drive just a few hours ago after getting my rental car. It was really, really weird and eerie.

But mostly I am just appreciative than I can feel anger and discombobulation. That means I’m here. That means I’m not another drunk driving statistic, at least not the worst kind of drunk driving statistic. And that means I’m grateful.

As I’ve mentioned a few times in other recent posts, appreciation and gratitude are my personal themes for 2013. I want to feel them and express them more. What better time than right now?

To God, or my guardian angels, or just random chance…or whoever/whatever is responsible for me being alive…thank you.

To Ty Hardaway, the driver of the SUV limo who saw the accident from the other side of the Tollway and doubled back to be of great assistance and a witness, thank you. Your goodheartedness was inspiring.

To the other two gentlemen who did the same, whose names I didn’t catch but who went so far as to bring me a towel to dry off with as we stood in the pouring rain, thank you.

To my rear bumper, I hope you’re enjoying Bumper Heaven. You earned it. ‘Ppreciate you bro.

Finally, to Kim – at least I think that is your name, based on the insurance info the state trooper found in the car and gave to me – while I have nothing to thank you for, obviously, I’m glad that the only apparent physical injury you suffered was a busted lip. It would have been so much worse for you too.

And even though this moment of fate that brought us together is likely to bring many rough but deserved consequences your way, I hope that as your journey continues you can find peace from whatever demons led you to be in the state you were in last night. That was a shell of a human being I encountered in the aftermath of our unfortunate and unnecessary collision. I can’t help but feel sadness when I think about it. I just can’t imagine anyone with a happy heart being in such a bad way.

*****

I wondered if I should sit down and write this. I’m so glad I did. (And thanks for reading, if you have.)

It’s disconcerting, to say the least, dealing with the aftermath of a moment that legitimately had the potential to take your life away from you. Shoot, just typing that sentence will mess with your head. It just did mine.

But the discombobulation has subsided as I’ve typed. And, frankly, some* of the anger has too, replaced with an unexpected (but frankly more pleasant) wish that last night’s moment of impact can somehow prove to be a positive one for Kim.

* – As consciously averse to anger as I am, I can’t totally let go of it all, even as I try to empathize. Nor should I. This woman could have taken my life or someone else’s. That’s worth being angry about.

Most of all, I’m determined to find the positive in this. And I will. I know this from recent experience.

This is the second car accident I’ve been involved in over the past year. The last one, in March of 2012, also was not my fault. And sure, it was inconvenient, and I was fortunate to not be injured, but in hindsight a part of me is glad it happened. It came at a time when I needed a jolt of…reality? inspiration? something…to initiate some positive changes in my life. I decided to spin the accident, in my own mind, as the universe conspiring to give me that very jolt. You may call me crazy, but it worked. Much of what I wrote about here happened after that point.

And so I’m going to view what happened last night as the universe conspiring to provide me with the ultimate reminder for why it’s so important to live every single day with a heart filled with appreciation and gratitude.

Because what if that had been…it? It could have been.

Would the people who are important to me have known they are important to me? Would I have had regrets? Would I have left this world a better, happier, more optimistic place than I found it?

I’m so grateful I don’t need to answer those questions with finality right now. I can answer them…and continue to do something about the answers.

Appreciate life. That’s all I can think about right now.

And do I ever.

This post is part of an ongoing series highlighting lessons learned from the book Posterity: Letters of Great Americans to Their Children. Read the intro post here.

When you hear the name Rockefeller, you most likely think immediately of money. And lots of it. (Or NBC, I guess, but probably money.) And with good reason. The Rockefeller family is one of the most wealthy in our nation’s history, with patriarch John D. Rockefeller amassing quite a fortune as the tycoon of Standard Oil.

And if you don’t know much about the Rockefellers, you might also think of greed, simply because money and greed often go hand in hand. However, you’d be wrong. John D. Rockefeller was renowned for his charitable giving, doling out more than half a billion dollars – and that was back then. Amazing.

Clearly he passed this generous spirit onto his son, John D. Rockefeller Jr., who in turn proved committed to passing it onto his sons and ultimately to his sons’ sons.

“In other words, you have shown the same sense of stewardship and the same sense of responsibility that Grandfather, by his example, inspired in me. It is, therefore, with confidence and satisfaction that I am planning to share with you still further, from time to time, this trusteeship reposed in me by Grandfather. The wise course you are all pursuing in the use of your resources and your deep and earnest desire to make your lives and your means count as fully as possible for the betterment of humanity would, I know, give Grandfather as great satisfaction as it gives me.

In the meantime, it is not too early for you to begin preparing and training your children to bear their share in these responsibilities.”

It is said that Grandfather Rockefeller’s motto was “To whom much is given, much is expected.” Clearly he walked the walk, and he passed the same commitment on to his future generations.

The letter also tells of how John D. Rockefeller began giving money to charity as soon as he got his first job, at 16. It wasn’t much – three cents here, five cents there – but it got him in the habit of giving, and his contributions grew as his resources grew. The man clearly knew how to manage – and maximize – his money.

Rockefeller’s lifetime commitment to using his money to lift up his fellow man should serve as an inspiration, a lesson, and a call to action for us all.

*****

Your body is tired. Your mind is tired. Your eyes are tired. Maybe even your spirit feels tired. You don’t feel like yourself.

Maybe you can’t even define exactly what is tired, or perhaps even why. You just keep saying to yourself, “Damn, I feel tired.”

That’s how I felt yesterday.

The Suggestion

After a week of getting up extra early for work and not countering it with going to sleep earlier, plus an intense workout schedule, plus not eating as well as usual, plus staring at a computer screen seemingly all day every day … I felt exhausted.

My body and mind certainly felt this way, and I noticed an especially acute sense of fatigue coming from my eyes.

So when I got home from the office yesterday I decided on a whim to put an intriguing suggestion I received this week into practice.

Nicholas Tozier left this comment on my recent post about how I have started employing the same strategies to get into better mental shape that I used to help me get back in better physical shape:

To cut down on nighttime distractions I used to have a “No artificial light stronger than a candle past 8:30pm” rule, which totally eliminated screens. Every night was a blackout party. Maybe it’s time to revive that…

I loved the idea as soon as I heard it, and last night seemed tailor made for trying it out since I wanted to get to bed early and my eyes loathed the thought of looking at any more screens.

As soon as I got home, I walked Rebel and then scurried on over to the store, excited to stock up on candles and give this little experiment a try.

‘No Light But Candlelight Night’

While driving and shopping I determined my “rules” for No Light But Candlelight Night:

1. I would not turn on any light switches all night.
2. I would not even so much as look at my computer.
3. I would keep my phone available for only two reasons: to respond to text messages and to listen to music or podcasts.

Seemed easy.

To make sure I had enough light, I grabbed the tallest candle I could find and got a little glass stand to set it on. I also got a set of 50 tealights, figuring I’d use a handful of them this time and then have plenty left over for a possible next time. This should provide plenty of light, I figured, in addition to the candles I already had on hand.

(I should note that, because sometimes I’m not very smart, I also bought a cheap oil lantern. Little did I know, not being well versed in such matters, that the lantern would create an annoying stench and steadily billow black smoke out its top. It was quickly extinguished and relegated to the corner.)

The sun had almost completely set by the time I got home, so natural light was shining thin. I placed the tealights around the downstairs area of my apartment. Then I added the bigger candles to the mix.

Collectively, the candles teamed up to light the apartment far less than I’d envisioned in my mind, but it was perfect. My eyes already felt more relaxed.

With the lights set up, it was time for activities. (Because even No Light But Candlelight Night needs activities.)

I decided to throw a load of laundry in. Trust me, it wasn’t really an option.

I also decided that I wanted to read, but I knew it would be a challenge to arrange the candles in such a way that I’d have enough light so my eyes were not forced to strain. I spent the next 15-20 minutes shuffling the candles around into different setups then sitting down with my book to test them. Not enough light.

Finally I found a setup that, with my body and the book angled just so, provided a perfect amount of reading light.

As an added bonus, it was on the couch, which meant Rebel could get some lap time while I read. He was happy.

I read a chapter in The Art of Non-Comformity while the laundry cleaned itself. It was about overcoming fear – or, shall I say, embracing our fears and finding ways to move past them, even using them as driving forces. I appreciated the lesson.

By the time I finished, the laundry was ready to be folded. I put on some music and did just that, all the while fending off confused and curious glances from Rebel, who was undoubtedly wondering why in world we were spending the whole night in the dark.

Once finished folding, I felt like I might be up for a little yoga.

I didn’t know if I’d want to actually go through any asanas, or if I just wanted to lay back in savasanah and breathe/meditate. I realized I didn’t need an answer before getting down on the mat. I could just go where I felt like going.

So I put on some yoga music and laid down on my mat in the middle of my living room floor.

What I had failed to anticipate was Rebel’s lack of respect for the yoga process. He thought that me laying on the ground meant playtime. As you might expect, trying to get into any type of meditative state with a dog jumping on and around you is somewhat difficult.

Thus, yoga time didn’t last too long. But that was okay. Some one-on-one time with the pup was overdue, and it restored me as much as pranayama quiet time would have.

It was getting close to 9:00 by this point, and I was starting to feel sleep tiredness approach. I made some herbal tea (Sleepytime, of course), and decided that this would be a perfect time to listen to my first episode of This American Life, which so many people have suggested to me.

I sat back in a chair, turned it on, and then just relaxed and listened.

The episode I chose was 58+ minutes long, and I felt a bit daunted trying to hold my attention for that long on the stories being delivered. I was afraid my mind would wander, I’d get frustrated, and then end up needing some other activity to wind down.

But that didn’t happen, and the hour breezed by like a eye blink. Before I knew it, the show was over and my eyelids were becoming heavy. My body, too, yearned for the comfort of bed.

So upstairs I went, putting on another episode of This American Life to fall asleep to; and fall asleep I did.

My final thought conscious thought of the night was anticipating how great I would feel in the morning, with my eyes, my mind, and my body all sure to feel refreshed and restored.

And they do.

*****

So, will I be having another No Light But Candlelight Night night in the future? You bet I will.

Last night was fantastic. And it was needed. In fact, I am going to try to designate one night a week as such a night.

If nothing else, I think having one such a night a week will be a great way to counter how much of my time is spent staring at computer, iPhone, and iPad screens. Considering my work, there is only so much I can actually reduce this on a daily basis. Countering this reality by having one candlelit night a week should produce tangible benefits.

My ongoing goal is to continue to live in balance. Based on my experience last night, this is one way to help balance out the effects of living in such an artificially and screen-lit world.

I am so thankful to Nicholas for suggesting what he did. His timing was impeccable.

And he reminded me that sometime to see the light we have to reduce it.

Indeed.

There are no perfect definitions of love, but the words spoken here by Sarah Kay and Phil Kaye do a remarkably good job of summing up the many expectations, nuances, and ultimately the realities of what real love is.

My thanks for sharing Jen.