The Oxygen Mask

It’s perhaps the most famous safety announcement of all time - “Put on your own oxygen mask first.” It’s also a widely used metaphor for what to do in a crisis.

Here in the land of individualism and meritocracy, we Americans tend to take this metaphor to heart; at least the first part of the statement. Generally speaking, our interpretation seems to be “me first.” Full stop.

Regardless of the carrier you fly, the oxygen mask announcement essentially states: “Please place the mask over your own mouth and nose first, before assisting others.” The gist is, “If you can’t breathe, you’re of little use in helping your child, loved one, or fellow passenger.” But the message is not akin to simply stating, “save yourself.”

The implication is clear: In case of emergency, once you’re breathing correctly, your next responsibility is to help anyone else in need. Yes, save yourself, then get busy saving others.

Many of us talk about the “taking care our ourselves first” part, but we’re not always as comfortable with the assisting others part. If you’re a parent or travel with family members that may require help, you likely think about this safety instruction differently. But the reality is, no matter who we are, we are all ultimately on the journey together.

The homeless, the addicted, the conspiracy theorist , the immigrant (legal or otherwise), and even the privileged among us - they are all fellow passengers and helping them get “oxygen” is our moral responsibility.

One of the infamous statements of last year’s protest movement is, “I can’t breathe.” These three words have become a rallying cry and if you look closely, there are many among us who are also saying this sentiment in some way, shape, or form.

The homeless person is essentially saying, “I can no longer stand on my own two feet.” The addicted individual is really saying, “I am traumatized and will do anything to escape.” The jobless and economically disadvantaged are basically saying, “I can barely keep my head above water.” Those that have suffered abuse, neglect, and racism are in effect saying, “I am wounded and devastated.” Even some prosperous individuals can feel so disconnected at times they feel “homeless.” In essence, many of the poor, deprived, oppressed, and brokenhearted among us cannot breathe - in some cases, literally.

I don’t know what it’s like to be homeless or the victim of racism. I’ve never been destitute, incarcerated, or addicted to an illicit substance. But I do know what it’s like to have a broken heart. I can tell you first hand, having your heart shattered feels a lot like not being able to breathe. In that way I can relate.

If we’re willing, most of us can relate to heartbreak, shame, or trauma and once you can relate to and empathize with others, it’s easier to breathe. As the adage goes, once we’re breathing properly, we can start assisting those that are having difficulty doing so on their own.

We are increasingly a divided society and many seem to only want to help those that think, look, or vote like they do. This is seen in our political discourse where some decry “America first” while others seek to “cancel” those that don’t follow their rules, have a different opinion, or have made a past mistake.

It’s understandable that when we feel threatened, we look to protect our own. But such thinking is also short-sided and outdated in the construct of the world we now inhabit. If climate change, the COVID-19 virus, the new information age, and global economy teaches us anything, these issues tell us that ultimately, there are no real borders. In a global crisis, there is no us and them. In a true emergency, there are no democrats and republicans, rich and poor, or woke individuals and canceled.

I have a friend who uses the hashtag #humanityfirst (thanks for the idea Matt) in many of his posts. He’s right. No one really comes first, humanity does. We are all on this mother ship earth together. We are all fellow passengers and we must stop patronizing, demonizing, and hating the “other” side. The real moral dilemma of our time is when so many of our fellow passengers are suffering and lacking oxygen, what are we doing about it?

I’m sure there are some who are looking at me and saying, ‘that’s a cute little metaphor Eric, but c’mon, it’s a little naive don’t you think?’

No, I don’t. I fundamentally believe that love is the answer and that love doesn’t stop at your front door, neighborhood boundary, prison walls, or national borders. We need to support our neighbors, educate criminals, help the addicted and homeless, and even, dare I say, love our enemies (I read that somewhere).

For those who aren’t spiritually minded please forgive the analogy, but the oxygen mask metaphor also parallels another famous human survival rule – “love your neighbor as yourself.” Have we really stopped lately to think which neighbors? I’m not a theologian, but I am pretty sure the “Golden Rule” refers to ALL of our neighbors. But from my view, much of our current attitude goes something like this: My needs first, then my family, community, and country (or at least the half of the country that agrees with me).

Many feel like the ship is sinking or the plane is losing oxygen at this moment. The state of the country, health of the planet, and the constitution of our collective character all seem to be in a perilous and precarious condition. It’s hard to disagree with this assessment. Things do appear to be drastic and urgent and if the oxygen mask hasn’t dropped for you yet, my guess is it will sooner or later. But if you look closely, the remedy is right there in the airline safety announcement.

Step one. Put on your mask. Love. Forgive. Express gratitude and humility. Breathe.

Step two: Help your neighbor do the same.

Net worth

As I remember my Father who passed away two years ago today, I am reminded of the many enduring lessons he taught me. Above all, that love matters most. Thinking of you Dad, today and every day.

Since he was a young man, my Dad had the goal of having a net worth of a million dollars. 

Throughout his professional life, Dad was tenacious, motivated, and successful, and by the time he was my age, he achieved his goal. But when he got there he invariably asked the question one asks at the top of a mountain - “Now what?” As driven as he was, Dad simply strove for more - the next million dollars, the bigger house, the newer car, the higher mountaintop.

In my career in fitness, I’ve seen this cycle many times - set a goal, reach a goal, find momentary satisfaction (and subsequent disappointment), and then set another goal. Losing weight, running a marathon, or earning a million dollars are all worthwhile pursuits I suppose, but if I’ve learned anything through the years, I’ve learned that there is no “there.” Every peak has a valley and it’s actually those valleys that determine our true net worth.

My nickname for Dad growing up was “The General.” Back then Pop liked to kick ass and take names. He was in charge and didn’t mince words. Like any good commander, he was bound and determined to reach his goals and he almost always did. But The General also lost some tough battles and had some bad luck along the way - markets, timing, and his health had other ideas. It was in that valley of setback and failure that Dad had to wrestle with a much more important question; “what is my true net worth?”

I don’t want to speak for Pop, but I’m convinced that Dad’s financial misfortunes and health challenges actually increased his ‘net worth’ so to speak. 

From my perspective, as Dad aged, he learned that his real worth wasn’t listed on a financial statement, his resume, or determined by what street he lived on. He became less of a general and more of a chaplain. Instead of barking orders and conquering goals, Dad sought to listen more, serve others, and love fiercely. He worked on being a better man - more humble, introspective, and generous. In turn he became less driven, less angry, and less opinionated - well, not less opinionated, but he tried!

Dad’s journey and example made an impression on me but I’ve had to learn the lessons of self-worth on my own terms. When I was in my teens, I put my net worth into being popular so I worked on being funny, well liked, and going with the crowd. When I was in my twenties, I valued being “successful” so worked on being a good corporate salesman and making money. When I was in my thirties, I put my focus on my physique, so I started voraciously exercising, running, and boxing. In my forties, I put much of my stock into my creativity and my spirituality so I dove into spiritual direction, researching, and writing. 

But as Dad experienced, life had other ideas for me than simply reaching goals. As I learned the hard way, failure has had a lot more to teach us than success; failure allows for humility and empathy to open our hearts. 

As I approach 50, my net worth on paper isn’t very impressive. Like the vast majority of people on the planet I don’t have a million dollars (the million dollar benchmark of Dad’s generation has now probably been supplanted by at least two million dollars anyhow). I may never achieve Dad’s financial status, but I know that the bigger question is, what if I do? Then what? I know that this question will never go away with material needs, wants, and desires. 

The truth is that there’s no stack of money big enough. There’s no perfect body, fastest race, or highest mountain. There’s no family loving enough, church righteous enough, or safe haven safe enough that determines your actual worth.

Your net worth isn’t how big your bank account is. It isn’t how many friends you have, your artistic talent, or your charitable and professional legacy. In my view, your net worth isn’t determined by what team you’re on (your political affiliation or your spiritual beliefs). 

When we were young, Dad stressed striving, saving, and success. As I learned, these qualities will inevitably make you more comfortable and likely more popular as a result. But as Dad got older, his actions taught me that your real net worth isn’t about how much comfort you achieve or how much love you receive. Your true net worth is the sum of the love you share.

As I learned from Dad, each one of us has an abundant capacity to express love and love is our one true unlimited resource. Only love will make us whole. 

Greener Grass

In 2017 my wife and I moved from Denver to Vail, Colorado. It had long been a dream of ours to live in a mountain town and after calling Denver home for five years, we found new jobs, made the big move, and made our dream a reality.

In my previous life, metropolitan living always appealed to me with the organic sense of energy, culture, and diversity that residing in a city can provide. But in recent years, urban life has also become more problematic. Some of the cities I have called home for years (Portland, Seattle, San Diego, and Denver) have become rampant with homelessness, drug use, crime, traffic, and a skyrocketing cost of living. There’s also the seeming ineptness of many city governments to address these issues.

Just blocks from where we lived in downtown Denver, there were masses of tents set up on city sidewalks surrounded by garbage and filth. We commonly witnessed aggressive panhandling, scenes of horrific drug abuse, and abject poverty. A few years ago on her morning walk to work, my wife came across a homeless man masturbating in front of her. The summer before we left Denver, I witnessed a woman in her underwear leaning up against our building with a needle still sticking out of her arm. And that was city life before 2020. It was time to get out of Dodge.

Many of our great cities have been in crisis in recent years, but now cities have also been particularly hit by the current global pandemic (not to mention mass demonstrations and civil unrest). Especially given that many people can now work remotely, living in a community like mine seems like a no-brainer.

Fleeing the problems of city life wasn’t the impetus for our move to the mountains, but it certainly was a factor. When I walk in my neighborhood now, instead of homelessness, piled up garbage, and discarded needles, I’m surrounded by the serenity of vast forests and clean mountain air. Our new home isn’t immune from problems, but I must admit Vail has been a pretty nice place to ride out 2020.

My personal greener grass narrative is not a unique story. Especially this year, people have been flocking to communities like mine in droves. In some cases they are literally showing up with suitcases of cash to make their escape plans a reality. Protecting your family and moving to higher ground or a safer address seem like prudent solutions, but recently I have started questioning if “getting out of Dodge” really solves anything.

Most don’t have the option of just leaving their jobs and communities or the means of simply picking up and moving to a place like Vail. I’ve also learned many times in life that the grass isn’t always greener as the old adage states. Speaking from personal experience, a change of address won’t protect you from past mistakes, inoculate you from future set backs, or heal a broken heart.

Living in Vail also won’t insulate you from inequality, drug and alcohol abuse, and homelessness. Living in the mountains won’t protect you from COVID or even civil unrest. In fact, with a one-dimensional economy based on tourism, the immense cost of living, and the massive divide between have and have not’s, life in Vail is potentially just as precarious as it is in urban San Francisco or New York.

The fact of the matter is our whole society is ailing, not just certain geographic locations. While parts of our country do seem sicker than others, moving won’t help change the spread of the deadly diseases we’re facing.

The pandemic we’ve been living with this past year is obviously a disease. But so are the addictions of social media, gambling, and pornography that have been steadily rising in recent years. So are the drug and alcohol epidemics that have been raging for the past 20 years. So is the obesity epidemic that has been growing for the past 30 years. So are disparities of wealth, wage stagnation, corporate greed, and a system that favors the powerful that has been growing for the past 40 years. So are the abhorrent qualities of racism and narcissism that have been part culture for hundreds of years.

These are sicknesses that we have collectively perpetuated and we are all ultimately responsible for addressing them. These cancerous problems are growing everywhere, and it’s going to take all of us to solve them. Just blaming the “other side” solves nothing and frankly neither will moving to Texas, the mountains, or the beach.

For decades we’ve touted individual responsibility as the solution to our dilemmas while blatantly ignoring corporate irresponsibility and allowing the ineptitude of government. We’ve imprisoned millions and have declared wars on terrorism, crime, poverty, drugs, and fat only to make most of these issues far worse. Our response to the problems we face seems to be “everyone for themselves.” You don’t like being poor - get a job. You don’t like being addicted - stop using. You don’t like being heavy - start exercising. You don’t like your city – move.

And how’s that working for us?

Sicknesses don’t heal without addressing the root causes. There isn’t a vaccine for contempt, a magic cure for inequality, or a drug cocktail for racism. Shoving the unpleasant filth of homelessness to another location or putting drug users in jail does not eradicate the disease. A “can do” attitude doesn’t treat the gaping wounds of our nation’s crises of mental health, addiction, and inequality.

I’ve moved cities, states, and changed careers multiple times. I am a living testament that the grass isn’t always greener. I’ve learned the hard way that healing begins with both radical humility and brutal honesty. Healing begins with the ability to listen, the courage to speak out, and the willingness to stand up. Healing begins by expressing love and creating community.

Greener grass doesn’t start with a change of address, but a shift of consciousness.

2020 Vision

20/20 vision is defined as “normal visual acuity measured at a distance of 20 feet.” Essentially, 20/20 vision indicates the clarity of vision at a distance.

I don’t have 20/20 vision. I wear glasses when I drive, go to the movies, or attend a live event. Bound by the limitations of my genetics, seeing from distance has never been my strong suit. Thankfully I was taught from a young age that ‘seeing’ clearly with my thinking is something that has no physical or genetic boundaries. But in these tumultuous times, clarity of thought can seem as challenging as seeing a clear picture without my glasses.

Regardless of how well our physical eyes can see the events unfolding around us, it’s difficult to examine many modern circumstances with the perspective of true 20/20 vision. Instead many of us default to the short-sidedness of only seeing how the present directly affects us personally.

In a time of acute danger, we don’t use our ability to see from a distance. Instead we only see the immediate things that are right in front of us. We simplify things to a fight or flight response and quick, digestible thoughts - friend or foe, good or bad. When we sense a threat like someone who means us harm or a poisonous snake that comes across our path, we run, or we stand and fight.

If you happen to find yourself in a terrible circumstance like your house being on fire, such black and white thinking might just save your life. But when faced with complex existential threats – climate change, economic inequality, political gridlock, systemic racial injustice, health epidemics, and global pandemics – fight or flight thinking is a disaster.

The type of dualistic thinking that saves your life when a lion approaches or a bus swerves into your lane of traffic merely fans the flames when faced with foreboding hazards like challenges of 2020. Much of the cultural thought construct related to our current threats is seen through the narrow lens of self-preservation, namely:

1) Pride (Fight).

2) Victimhood (Flight).

Both pride and victimhood are ultimately two sides of the same coin - ego. The ego is easy to spot with its tendency towards narcissism, noncompliance, and nostalgia. The ego is quick to anger and loves to point fingers.

Anytime I have been deeply wrong in my life, ego had everything to do with it. When I have suffered trauma, divorce, job loss, physical setbacks, my first reaction was the self-preservation of running from the pain or fighting back. During my divorce, someone that helped me through it reminded me that, “victims don’t heal.” Of course, the arrogant and prideful don’t heal either.

Simply blaming the other side gets us nowhere. Simply touting individual responsibility while ignoring corporate and governmental responsibility solves nothing. Simply seeing a one-sided version of history doesn’t allow for healing and humility to enter our field of vision.

To truly heal, we need introspection, compassion, and forgiveness. That starts with seeing the whole picture.

While we’re hard wired to fight and flight, unfortunately, most of us aren’t very good at facing history whether it’s the mistakes we’ve made individually or the missteps of history that we’ve made collectively.

It requires radical humility to accept and acknowledge the entire spectrum of both personal and collective history and not just the convenient version. James Baldwin once said: “Not everything that is faced can be changed; but nothing can be changed until it is faced.” That is why the first step of addiction recovery is to admit the problem - to admit the truth of history.

Many of the imminent dangers of 2020 have slowly been magnifying over the course of decades. To understand the effects of our present circumstances we must be willing to look at the causes. For that, we must use the wisdom of 2020 “vision” – that is, seeing from a distance.

Seeing clearly allows for truth and only truth can bring about reconciliation and resurrection. The complex issues we face necessitates a deeper and broader frame of reference – a clear depth of field, an inclusive perspective, and the ability to assess history with equanimity and honesty.

In essence, we must hold ourselves to higher standards of thought to solve the immense dilemmas of our time. What we need now in 2020 is true 20/20 vision - the ability to see with transparency and clarity. Such vision requires the willingness to take off the blinders of partisanship, tribalism, and identity politics. In short:

·       We must let go of thinking simplistically and instead we must think holistically.

·       We must relinquish our possessiveness and turn our view towards the greater good.

·       We must acknowledge truth to find catharsis and reconciliation.

·       We must see with the “eyes” of reflection and contemplation.

·       We must use the full spectrum of color to see clearly.

Vast uncertainty, turmoil, economic upheaval, loss, professional setback, compromised health, injustice, inequality, and climate change - many of us have experienced these issues in some form in the past six months alone! Loss and uncertainty can often lead to anger and despair. But loss can also lead to renewal, growth, and transformation if we’re willing to do the work.

Life has taught me is that it’s difficult to see clearly in the midst of a storm. But life has also taught me that navigating through the rough seas depends on how and where I fix my gaze. True “2020” vision isn’t the ability to see correctly with the eyes or even the head, but to listen truthfully with the heart.

Midlife

“Midlife is not about the fear of death. Midlife is death. Tearing down the walls that we spent our entire life building is death. Like it or not, at some point during midlife, you’re going down, and after that, there are only two choices: staying down or enduring rebirth.”  -  Brené Brown

We’ve all heard the term “midlife crisis.” Some might associate the phrase with the man who buys the fancy red sports car or leaves his wife for a younger woman. Midlife might also be thought of as the woman, who after decades of raising kids, decides it’s finally time to get her body (and life) back - She joins the gym, hires the trainer and gets plastic surgery to feel the vitality and freedom of youth once again. Though there are countless connotations and instances, these examples point to the stereotypical reaction for many to the midlife crisis – a change of personal or material circumstance.

In some ways, society sees such changes as positives. It’s considered noble to improve your body at any age. It’s thought of as admirable to find new love even if it’s at the expense of your previous love. And in our culture, red sports cars, while maybe a bit douchey, are highly coveted.

But regardless of the changes we make to alter our present material state, deep down we know what eventually awaits us. The truth is, there isn’t a sports car fast enough, a partner young and attractive enough, or a body strong and defined enough to protect you from life’s setbacks and the travails of aging. In the long run, you cannot trade your current ‘model’ in for a better, sexier, or younger one. Facing your aging self, failures, and mortality is something everyone must eventually grapple with. You can’t outrun your shadow no matter how fast you run on the treadmill of life.

Still, many of us desperately flee from the inevitability of midlife and the traumas associated with aging and loss. But midlife isn’t just about physical decline or only reserved for those in their 40’s and 50’s. Anyone who suffers a crisis of identity can feel the burdens of midlife. John Mayer even used the term “quarter life crisis” in his song “Why Georgia.”

How we define ourselves in things like our relationships and professional identities will morph over time. Our physicality will also change like the seasons. Such profound change can spark a sense of crisis in many. Personally speaking (though I am literally facing midlife as I write this) the ‘midlife’ crisis is not a new concept for me. Whether it was traumatic physical setbacks like reconstructive ear and rotator cuff surgeries in my 20’s, a significant career transition in my 30’s or divorce in my 40’s, I’ve learned that the daunting prospect of massive life change is a part of any stage of life, not just midlife.

One of the paradoxes of getting older is that we seek to reverse or slow aging and uncertainty through avenues and material things that we feel we can directly control - our body, money, relationships or professional status. But at the end of the day, the notion of control in any of these arenas is a fallacy. Money can’t protect you from disease, injury or heartbreak. Even the best, most fulfilling job in the world at some point will run its course. Relationships evolve, change and eventually end. And, as the laws of physics and gravity dictate, the race against your aging body is not a winnable one. Try as we might, as Brené Brown suggests, “you’re going down.”

You ultimately have the choice to go down kicking and screaming or you can accept your next chapter with grace and surrender to the notion of rebirth.

As athletes know all too well, defining life by your physical capabilities is a young person’s game. I’ve often wondered what the aging star athlete sitting at the end of the bench thinks as the clock keeps ticking. What questions does she ask – ‘Who am I?’ ‘What’s next?’ ‘How do I start the next chapter?’ These are questions all of us must ask at some point. Each life crisis we face whether quarterlife, midlife or old age all bring forth opportunities for rejuvenation, renewal and reawakening.

In the Bible it’s clear that ‘rebirth’ is a necessary step in spiritual evolution. Yet starting anew isn’t confined by the physical constraints of aging. It isn’t physical strength or abundant material resources that are requirements for a fresh start, but the vitality of a youthful and humble disposition. And when it comes to spiritual rebirth it isn’t by planning, controlling, or seeking new answers that we grow, but by the willingness to ask new questions. Midlife isn’t a crisis we must endure, but an opportunity to evolve our state of mind.

At a recent crossroads in my life a few years ago, a friend suggested reading the book Falling Upward by Richard Rohr commenting that the questions I was asking were ‘second half’ questions. Rohr’s book asserts that there are essentially two ‘halves’ of life - The first half is characterized by worldly pillars of power, comfort and recognition. We spend this first half of life constructing and filling up our “containers.” That is, pursuing status and professional success, establishing defined roles (as friend, spouse, relative or parent) and compiling worldly possessions. Rohr describes such first half actions as “rising, achieving accomplishing, and performing.”

Conversely, the second half is about self-emptying and the willingness to let go of our earthly definitions. The second half is characterized by the actions of contemplation and surrender and by the willingness to wrestle with purpose-driven, existential queries. Though Jung first popularized the term “two halves,” instead of relating the notion to aging, Rohr likens the second half as having the courage to let go of ego. Meister Eckhart captured the essence of the second half eloquently, stating,“To be full of things is to be empty of God. To be empty of things is to be full of God.”

While the search for meaning and moving beyond our ego can be seen as a terrifying downward spiral for some, Rohr actually calls this process “falling upward.” But even if you don’t buy the spiritual notion of the ‘second half,’ anyone can buy into the concept of staying young at heart. While we will all likely encounter physical challenges, loss, fractured relationships and career setbacks, we needn’t suffer lasting mental anguish and an ‘elderly’ state of mind. As Robert F. Kennedy once said, “This world demands the qualities of youth; not a time of life but a state of mind, a temper of the will, a quality of the imagination, a predominance of courage over timidity, of the appetite for adventure over the life of ease.”

Not to completely dismiss the first half mind you. I’ve spent the better part of my life in pursuit of my professional identity, health and a fit body. Certainly, I enjoy the fruits of my labors and cherish my close relationships and my roles as a son, friend, brother, and husband. Filling up our ‘containers’ is natural and responsible. But jobs, possessions, relationships and even experiences don’t define the real essence of us - qualities do.

Facing midlife is about having the courage to let go of material desires and the resolution to replace that drive with a different type of tenacity. As Rohr suggests, the mark of rebirth is to be “grounded, not guarded” in giving our authentic gifts.

Falling or getting knocked down is a part of life and for many, an acute crisis in midlife. Getting back up with humility, an open heart and the desire for rebirth is our true task at any stage of life.

Response Ability

I had my first summer job in junior high. My Dad knew someone who needed sort of a ‘gopher’ for a heavy equipment company. The job was located in the industrial area of Portland, which was full of warehouses, truck stops, and machine shops. Though it was a mere 20 minutes from where I lived, for an upper middle class kid from the suburbs, it might as well have been Greece.

My parents were emphatic that I get a summer job and felt the experience of working in the shop would be good for me, so every day my Mom drove me to and from work in the family sedan. To say the shop guys raised their eyebrows at this Mercedes chauffeured, smart-ass kid from the west side was an understatement. On my first day, I was asked to fetch a 7/16 wrench from the toolbox, and I just looked at the guy as if he were speaking a foreign language. “A what???”

Still, despite my initial apprehension and my lack of technical skills notwithstanding, I gradually warmed up to the experience. I felt like a big boy drinking bad coffee and taking grief from the guys. Plus, I had a little spending money in my pocket and as a pre-driving teenager, I had fun driving golf carts and turf equipment to my heart’s content.

One day I was driving a little too fast out in the shop yard and while cutting a corner sharply, I badly scraped a golf cart on a piece of scrap metal. My first instinct was to look around the yard. I couldn’t see anyone for miles. “Thank God. These carts are beat to hell anyway and no one will ever know,” I thought to myself. Then, amidst my planning and scheming ways not to get caught, a voice of reason took over…”Do the right thing Eric.”

I walked into the shop and found Frank, the foreman, to tell him what had happened. “I was goofing off driving too fast in the yard and I messed up the side of one of the carts pretty badly.” Frank looked me dead in the eye and said, “Eric, I appreciate your honesty and you taking responsibility. If it happens again, you’re fired.”

Though they had tolerated me, I don’t think those guys in the shop thought I was worth much of a damn with my polo shirts and designer jeans. They were a rough and tough bunch; blue-collar guys who measured your value by your work ethic and what you could do with your hands. I was about as far from tough and handy as you could get. But at least on that one occasion, they respected that my parents had taught me to do the right thing. One of the guys even took me aside and told me it took real guts to go in and tell Frank the truth. It’s a memory that has stuck with me for over 30 years.

I wish I could tell you that since then I’ve been able to live up to the example of my 15-year old self throughout my life. But truthfully, I haven’t always been truthful. I’ve had more than my fair share of failing to speak up, step up and admit my wrong doings. Honestly, over the years I’ve cared a lot more about my image and appearance than uprightness.

In our social-media inspired ‘look at me’ culture, a genuine heart-felt apology is a rarity. Frankly, it pays to portray a carefully crafted and constructed image of awesomeness and assuredness, versus the vulnerability of humility, remorse and forgiveness. As Andre Agassi once said, “image is everything.”

In the era of seeking validation and popularity, the ability to respond is a lost art. When the notion of responsibility does actually rear its head, it’s seems to be only as a last resort. But admitting guilt once the cat is out of the bag isn’t the same thing as truly taking responsibility. Saying you’re sorry when you’re out of options and under pressure doesn’t really count. In the modern news cycle, stories of scandal dominate the headlines and the obligatory half-assed response occurs only after the jig is up, if at all. This trend has been going on for so long now that we pretty much accept a lack of responsibility as normal.

After years of accusation and speculation, Lance Armstrong only admits guilt after his ongoing brash, arrogant defiance. Back in the steroid era of baseball, while under Congressional oath, Rafael Palmeiro blatantly lied while Mark McGwire took the 5th.  Kevin Spacey remains silent despite dozens of credible accusations. Bill Cosby expresses no remorse whatsoever for his actions and when the Harvey Weinsteins of the world actually do get caught red handed, they play the ‘I have a sickness and am getting help card’ as if the sickness (and not their own actions) were to blame.

What ever happened to ‘I hurt people and I messed up bad. I did it and it was really, really wrong.’ That’s a good place to start. Mistakes and royal screw-ups are a guaranteed part of the human condition. Unfortunately, humility and self-reproach are not. ‘I made a mistake and I am going to try and fix it’ requires a moral compass while ‘I’m never wrong’ or ‘I have all of the answers’ simply requires narcissistic arrogance.

We need to stop judging others by the mistakes they’ve made or what news network they watch. Instead, we need to judge others by their response to their mistakes. Our dialogue needs to change from black and white, red and blue, right and left to the more refined qualities of meekness and responsibility. Those who display the ability to respond deserve our patience and understanding and those who don’t, do not. The complexity of our times demands the simplicity of humility.

I like baseball regardless of steroids and PEDs. I rooted for Lance when he was hoisting yellow jerseys. I watched The Cosby Show religiously as a kid and I still think it was groundbreaking TV. I think Kevin Spacey is a great actor. I still appreciate Tiger’s greatness and he will likely go down as one of the best golfers that ever lived. That said, our ultimate reputation isn’t marked by our accomplishments or transgressions, but by our responses to life’s inevitable stormy waters.

The ability to respond is to be “morally accountable for one’s actions.” Every athlete, movie star and politician makes mistakes. We all do. But as my parents tried to teach me, the right thing to do is to get out in front of our missteps and face the music. To heal requires forgiveness of self and others. Healing also requires the ability to step up. It isn’t talent, success or mistakes that defines us; it’s the ability to respond that makes a lasting impression and defines character.

You must be present to win

To be completely honest, winning doesn't come easy for me.

If memory serves me correct, in grade school I won the MS read-a-thon fundraiser by reading the most books. In junior high, by sheer dumb luck, I won a free throw competition at the Ralph Miller basketball camp…Although it was a bittersweet victory because my friend Andrew took credit for having made more free throws and ended up getting the accolades for the win. Years later, over a few beers and a lot of laughter, Drew fessed up and presented me with the winner’s certificate. I once won a NCAA “March Madness” pool by picking the Arizona Wildcats when they weren’t favored. I’ve hit a couple of numbers on the roulette wheel in Vegas and left town with a few hundred bucks in my pocket. But that’s really about it.

I’ve never won a big sporting event, hit the game winning home run, or been on a championship team. I’ve never hit it big on the lottery. I’ve never won a raffle or a car or a membership to a gym. I’ve never been given a lifelong achievement award. In the martial arts, I've probably lost more sparring matches than I have won. As an actor, though I have landed some parts here and there, I’ve never secured a role in a Spielberg film. I’m not a loser, but you certainly wouldn’t see my picture under the word winner either!

Not being born a bona-fide winner isn’t easy in our country for winning is as big a part of American culture as apple pie and baseball (I guess it’s now football). We’ve lost only one war (and had one tie). Between 1896 and 2016, the US has won more Olympic medals (2520) in the summer Olympics than any other nation (Russia holds the all-time tally for the Winter games). We have more millionaires and billionaires than any country on earth (by far). The US has had the most Nobel laureates and prize winners.

Whether it's science, commerce, or sport, we are a nation of winners. Culturally, we laud the Lombardi-esque mantra, “winning isn’t everything, it’s the only thing.” Even our president brags, “My whole life is about winning…I almost never lose.” But everybody loses sometimes and as of late, especially us. While we are a nation of winners historically, the tide has turned...

·      When it comes to health care, America ranks as the worst among the top 11 industrialized nations and according to the WHO, the US isn’t in the top 35 globally.

·      Just over a decade ago, the US ranked third among rich developed nations for happiness. Now we rank 19th.

·      Despite boasting many of the world’s most prestigious universities, the US ranks 14th in  overall educational performance. Frankly, it’s surprising it’s that high – The World Economic Forum ranked the U.S. at 52nd among 139 nations in the quality of its university math and science instruction.

·      According to the WHO, the US ranks just 31st in the world for life expectancy.

But surely, our illustrious nation still takes the cake in something, right?? Breathe easy, we’re still tops when it comes to the following:

·      Prisoners - the US ranks first in the world with the highest prison population on the planet with an estimated 2,217,000 incarcerated people.

·      According to an annual questionnaire and conducted by Ipsos/MORI in 2016 we were number five in the world when it comes to ignorance (we were #2 in 2014, so I suppose we’re getting better!).

·      We’re ‘the best’ when it comes to gun violence! According to a study published in the American Journal of medicine, Americans are 10 times more likely to be killed by guns than people in other developed countries.

·      We’re the heaviest country in the world. Look no further than the global pandemic of obesity (started right here in the US of A) as a glaring example of corporate greed and personal excess.

·      America has the highest drug overdose rate on earth...by a wide margin. While our population comprises 4% of the world's, we account for 27% of the overdose deaths on the planet.

This for the most successful and ‘winning’ civilization in the history of the planet. Heck, we can’t even qualify for the World Cup! It’s a sad state of affairs indeed. But my purpose is not to be a naysayer or doom and gloom prognosticator. I believe in the inherent goodness of mankind and especially the ability of Americans to rise to the occasion when our backs are against the wall.

Now is such a point in history. While the tipping point may not have yet occurred, we can probably all agree that a necessary moment of drastic change is near. It’s time for us to roll up our sleeves and find our winning ways again.

As noted, I’m no expert at winning. But as far as I can tell, more than anything, winning takes the ability to be present. As the old adage states, ‘you have to be present to win.’

Many take this to mean showing up literally through the elements of discipline, desire, and determination. It’s hard to argue the importance of such qualities. But there is something even more imperative than mere tenacity when it comes to being at hand and ready. Being present essentially means the ability to see truthfully. To accept and deal with circumstances as uncomfortable as they may be. Through introspection comes humility, through humility comes perspective and perseverance, and through perspective and perseverance, character.

Being a winner isn’t just about showing up, but about expressing meekness, fortitude, and acceptance. Olympic Icon Wilma Rudolph captured the essence of what it means to win stating, “winning is great, sure, but if you’re really going to do something in life, the secret is learning how to lose. Nobody goes undefeated all of the time. If you can pick up after a crushing defeat, and go on to win again, you are going to be a champion someday.” The crux of winning is about modesty, self-awareness, and the ability to sit with the pain of our losses. With true presence we ultimately acquire qualities that champions possess - character, conviction, and courage.

Learning to Fail

One of the more poignant moments I can remember in recent years is getting the crap beat out of me shortly after one of my biggest life failures. Just weeks after signing my divorce papers in 2012, I had to endure a few rounds of hard sparring at a martial arts testing and I got pummeled. Already bloodied and bruised, in the third round I was kicked so hard in the ribs that I doubled over and took a knee. In order to pass my test, I had to make it through all three rounds - I was literally saved by the bell.

In a twisted way, it was actually sort of cathartic to have my body feel the way my heart did – battered and broken. While getting beaten up isn’t something I’d necessarily recommend, I can also tell you that failure is almost a certainty in life and learning to cope with pain is a critical part of progression in anything.

Yet culturally, everything and everyone seems to be telling you the opposite – that success happens by finding your bliss and seeking pleasure. The quick fix is everywhere you look. Get rich quick seminars, crash diets, and fad exercise programs tell you the news your brain loves to hear – that there’s a convenient solution and a comfortable change - it just takes hard work and the right program.

But what if it wasn’t about the program, the right timing, or even how hard you worked? What if advancement was simply about the willingness to face the pain and the certainty of failure.

If I’ve learned anything, I’ve learned that I may or may not reach my goals, dreams, and aspirations, but I will most definitely fail while trying. The silver lining is that failure brings with it the opportunity to find authenticity and wholeness through introspective work and forgiveness. While more life lessons are surely on their way through my next mess up, here’s what I have learned so far:

o   Ego can take you to the depths of hell. In every major failure I’ve had, ego was in the driver’s seat. You are not your body, your job, or even your relationships, but you become the thoughts you give power to. Ego says you are defined by quantities, while your true self is defined by qualities.

You may lose your job, but you haven’t lost the qualities that got you that job. You may lose your relationship, but you haven’t lost the opportunity to love with your whole heart. Next time your ego tells you that you are defined by what you have, remind yourself that in the end, you will be remembered by your qualities.

o   Honesty isn’t your best policy, humility is. Your failure is an opportunity to perfect your virtue which is simply the opposite of your vice. My vice is pride. When others wrong me, I cast them aside and never, ever turn back. Puffing my chest up may be my default, but when I am at my best, humility governs my thoughts and actions. The problem is that when we fail, we often look for something or someone to blame, even if it’s us. In doing so we can lash out to those who have wronged us, and frequently, that lashing out is self-directed. Here’s the thing though – playing the blame game ultimately proves nothing. What matters is the humility to face the wreckage and move on.

o   Quitting is sometimes your best option. Anyone who’s ever been divorced can attest to the utter devastation associated with such a separation. You don’t get married before friends, family, and God to see it fail miserably. Compounding the effects of a trauma like a divorce are the prospects of acute pain, loneliness, and the loss of companionship. But if love, justice, and truth are worth fighting for, abuse and hatred are worth leaving behind. Leaving a relationship, job, or bad habit is sometimes our best option as something built on a false foundation isn’t worth salvaging, it’s worth tearing down and starting over on the right footing. 

o   Victims don’t heal. One thing I have seen over and over again in my in life both personally and professionally is that no one ever makes a lasting change that they don’t genuinely want to make. People make changes when they’ve had enough and their back is against the wall.

It sucks to get downsized. It sucks to get hurt or heartbroken. It sucks to get sick. It sucks when your genetics aren’t perfect. A lot of life’s setbacks aren’t our fault. It wasn’t your fault that your parents were lousy role models or your boss is an asshole. But it is your fault that you hold on to your pain, anger, and self-justification. True freedom can only come about by releasing negativity and allowing wounds to heal though the natural order of time and forgiveness. The statute of limitations is now – you aren’t a victim, you have the power of choice.

o   You must face the pain. Sometimes you’re going to get your ass kicked and it’s going to hurt - maybe even worse than you think. It’s tempting to run the other way. But the great irony of the things that mask our pain (booze, sex, food, etc.) is that these temporary reprieves only prolong and compound the inevitable pain. One of the best ways to cope with pain is to find support. If your body hurts, treat it gently and get a massage. If your heart hurts, join a support group and seek those who can understand your plight. If your mind hurts, force yourself to sit with your thoughts until they pass.

More than anything though, we have to face the hurt and the trauma. Peace is only found on the other side of it. There’s no way around the storms of life – our job is to face the pain and release its grip by swimming with the current.

Learning to fail isn’t something covered in school. There are no participation trophies in the game of life. We’ll have many wins if we’re fortunate and few failures if we’re lucky. But failure is going to happen and regardless of circumstance, the work is clear – peace of mind and character are forged with finding the resolve to face the mess and the courage to clean it up.

Moral Courage

"Our lives no longer belong to us alone; they belong to all those who need us desperately."  - Elie Wiesel

My mom used to read to me at night…until I was in high school! She read children’s books to me when I was little, sports books when I was in grade school, and as I matured, she read biographies and history. One theme was consistent in the books she chose – moral courage. Moral courage is defined as the courage to take action for moral reasons despite the risk of adverse consequences.

I’m not sure if it was Mom’s intention to instill the virtues of being some sort of moral crusader, but those books made a big impression on me. My main take away from those readings on the likenesses of individuals like Anne Frank, Malcolm X, or Jackie Robinson is that the true mark of success isn’t defined by what assets you have, your resume, or even how long you live, but by your willingness to stand for what you believe in.

How many of us are willing to take such stands? How many of us are willing to truly stand up - to our employer, our church, our government and risk persecution, our job, and even our freedom? To many, the comforts of modern life, validation on social media, and the distractions of technology hold sway over urgent and pressing systemic problems. We are too busy being distracted and seeking comfort to be burdened by life’s inconvenient truths.

Moral courage is seemingly in short supply these days although there are glimmers of hope if you look closely enough. Ishrad Manji is the founder of the ‘Moral Courage Project’’ at the University of Southern California where she teaches students to “do the right thing in the face of four years.” Manji is a Muslim who has openly stood up for the rights of women and minorities calling for reform in her faith in her bestselling book, The Trouble with Islam Today.

A recent example of moral courage is also former NFL player Ed Cunningham quitting his lucrative job as a television football analyst because he believes that football has negative long-term health ramifications. He felt could “no longer be in that cheerleader’s spot” in promoting a game he believes in hazardous to your health. In announcing his decision Cunningham added “I just don’t think the game is safe for the brain. To me, it’s unacceptable.”

The point isn’t whether people like Manji and Cunningham are right. Personally, I like football and though the studies on football appear to be fairly damning, I have no idea if the science is absolute or conclusive with regard to long-term brain damage and its correlation to football. The point is that Ed Cunningham quit one of the top jobs in sports broadcasting because of his convictions. The point is that Manji stood up to her faith at the risk of being ostracized or worse and has dedicated her life’s work to furthering the movement of moral courage.

The point is also that such stands of courage are notable because they are a rarity in our times. Moral courage tends to be the exception to the rule of the day – ‘me first.’ The mantra of me first is at the root of almost every major problem we face today – disparity of income & wealth inequality, dysfunctional government run by lifelong politicians, the epidemics of addiction, crumbling infrastructure and the failing environment. And it’s not just ego and selfishness that drives these problems, but they are compounded by a modern culture of apathy, indifference, and contempt.

Said Noel Prize winner and Holocaust survivor, Elie Wiesel: “The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it's indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it's indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, it's indifference.” Wiesel goes on to say that “There may be times when we are powerless to prevent injustice, but there must never be a time when we fail to protest.”

Elie Wiesel wrote about perhaps the most glaring example of such neglect which occurred in the 1930’s & 40’s in Nazi Germany. Many protected their own self-interest - Their families, their jobs, their possessions. In doing so they contributed to one of the biggest crimes against humanity, not to mention their own countries demise and destruction. Indeed, when we put only our needs first, we neglect the moral necessities of our time.

These days there are also many who want to put their family, country or company first. While in some ways it’s natural and understandable to put you and yours first, frankly the sentiment is misguided and ultimately wrong. 'Me first' presents a self-absorbed narrative that puts blinders on the many extremely important issues of the day – poverty, failing societal health, the environment, education – things that affect us all in one way shape or form.

To right this ship, the single most important question we can ask ourselves is ‘what do you love in life more than you love yourself?’ Said another way, ‘what are you willing to die for?’ It’s a strong question, but one we all need to ask in our daily lives if we have a shot at correcting the sentiments of indifference, selfishness, and greed. Rather than responding to the issues of today with apathy, we have an ethical responsibility to stand up and ask, ‘what is going on here?’

We live in important and tumultuous times where a desperate need exists for leadership and the willingness to take stands. Even at the cost of a job, relationship, or personal gain we must put our conscious and community first. In a world of limited resources, interconnected economies, and common problems, the notion of me or even America first is archaic. As Thomas Paine said, “My country is the world. My religion is to do good.” Our ultimate task is to put the collective needs of the community first and as Paine rightly stated, “to do good.”