Nary a social media post scrolls by without someone echoing into the chamber how they’re “living their truth” or proud of someone who is “speaking their truth.” The co-opting of the word truth by individuals who are simply living their life in accordance with their subjective measures for happiness and success is not the truth. It’s a crunchy semantic emotional noir ascribing fact to lives that in essence are just stories.
I recognize this turn of phrase has an essential component to it. There have been people who have endured tremendous abuses, indiscretions, and been forced to live in silence…
“Daddy, what were you like as a kid? Tell me a story about when you were a kid.”
A simple request from a girl dimly lit by a string of lights gently woven amongst tiny books and figurines. In a room, I’m certain I won’t forget. Or will I? Will she?
She wanted a funny story. She pawed at my hands as the silence grew worrisome. I’ve always had a couple of back pocket memories I could spin with detail to pad the effect. I looked down at her. Her eyes still too big for her perfect little face. Slow…
She woke up in the middle of the night, uneasy, and shuffled to the restroom. Struggling to breathe, she called for him. They thought it best to call an ambulance. She would be ushered on ahead of him. He followed behind, unconcerned, as they’d done this before.
He arrived at the hospital shortly thereafter. Upon signing in he was met by a doctor and taken to a private room. They had been trying their best for the last fifteen minutes to resuscitate her but had been unsuccessful. What did he want them to do? The orders were inked on a…
I’m broke but I’m happy, I’m poor but I’m kind
I’m short but I’m healthy, yeah
I’m high but I’m grounded, I’m sane but I’m overwhelmed
I’m lost but I’m hopeful, baby-Alanis Morissette
I’m sitting at my daughter’s desk. She’s in my chair watching LEGO videos on an iPad. My son is coding house music next to me. It’s 10:45 am on a Wednesday. This isn’t normal. I’m not normal. They’re not normal. You’re not normal. We live in a post-normal world.
The fatigue of hearing the desire to return to normal is real. Our inability to accept the impermanence…
My wife and I started to declutter our basement and came to a piece of furniture stocked full of books. Over seventy-percent of the books on the shelf were related to self-improvement, self-understanding, and even self-help to a certain degree. When I looked at all of those books, I was immediately saddened because I felt as lost as I did when I bought those books.
I’ve been reading forty to fifty books a year for the last four or five years. I am not proud of this. …
“Shame cannot survive being spoken…and being met with empathy.” -Brene Brown
Self-help is rampant as we continue to be separated from our daily lives. We need help. We’re alone. And winter is upon us. The new year is here. Everyone is a guru. Everyone is pivoting to coaching, using their lives as templates to guide others. Every personal failure is monetized under the umbrella of experience. One of the biggest diddles peddled to the confined market is the concept of shame; how bad it is, and how to combat it with unbridled positivity.
Self-help has devolved into a semantic game…
We will soon have our answer to the great American question: Who will be the next American president? I logged onto Facebook after three and a half years, having sworn off the platform after the last election. The pandemic ticked up, my social interactions slowly vanished, and I too hunkered down for the year, I had to stick my face into the imaginary world.
Social media is like Toy Story. When alone, we comment and live animated lives. When people and reality enter the room, we fall lifeless to the floor. We grow braver and decide to leave the room…
dislike of, contempt for, or ingrained prejudice against women.
The interview commenced with a fair and open warning by Lesley Stahl, “you’re okay with some tough questions?” she asked smiling. To assume a sitting President less than ten days before an election, trailing in the polls, concurrently swatting the flies of skyrocketing COVID cases and unemployment numbers would expect anything less than tough questions would be asking too much.
“You’ll be fair.” He responded.
That was the last respectful thing he said to her. By now, you’ve seen the interview. And over the course of this pandemic, with…
“On a long enough time line, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero.” -Tyler Durden, Fight Club
On the night of April 14th, 1912, the RMS Titanic was on a collision course with an iceberg. Stop me if you’ve heard this one. Major catastrophic events like this live on some one hundred years after their occurrence. Housing a new steering system, and an unfamiliar steersman, the ship zigged when it should have zagged, slamming straight into an iceberg.
I don’t want to ruin the ending. Before we arrive at the thrilling denouement, and I attempt to sully the arctic…
Well I was born in a small town
And I live in a small town
Probably die in a small town
Oh, those small communities — John Mellencamp
I asked my son if he wanted to go to Chicago to visit family for Christmas this year. With the time spent in the home during the pandemic, a small family gathering seemed a nice way to close out the year. He hit me with the truth.
“No way! Do you remember what happened the last time we went to Chicago for Christmas? We drove all day in that storm, and our…
Writing to quiet the voices. Organizational Culture/Development Consultant. Leadership and Purpose Coach. Erudite Enthusiast. Writer. Husband. Father.