Won't be posting for a bit.

   Getting married.

   A swell lass, the name 'o Karin.

   Just finished my vows.

   Creating a mix CD for the deejay…

   Wish us well and I'll be in touch…

   Here. We. Go.

So I'm a coach, right?

But what does that mean, you ask? Good question. In fact, it's a question that I've asked myself over the course of the last decade. And during that time, I've been witness to the answer's evolution.

What I do — what I am fecking great at — is 1) being able to see people, and 2) I am able to SHOW people some part of themselves to which they have been blind. When people see, more often than not, they do the changing all by themselves.

Anyway, I spent some time with a young man the other day. He was not just a young man, he was an ANGRY young man. While this fails to make him a rare bird by any stretch, it's been a while since I've been around that type of anger for an extended period of time. And while I was around him, my curiosity kicked in.

Why was he so angry? What is anger really about? Why is anger so prevalent in the world today? What's the common thread interwoven underneath this powerful (and often destructive) feeling?

As I listened to this young man's stories — we'll call him William — themes emerged. The one that struck me right between the eyes was that things happened to William.

Of course, it would seem that things happen to all of us. But understand that when I write things happened to William, what I am saying is that he approached his life like he had no control over the happenings of his life. In his mind, he was merely an actor in the play of life, not the director. And as the actor, the marionette, other people held the strings to his fortunes. Parents. Bosses. Co-workers. Doctors. Women. Insurance companies. The government. These were the people in control of his life. These were the people who were "doing things" to him. Bad things, he told me.

And, not surprisingly, these people doing bad things to him made him angry. Makes sense, right? If the joy of life is about expressing your free will, about creating your life from your desires, and this is what you KNOW in every fiber of your body, well, if no aspect of your life seems to reflect this, being pissed off would seem to be a natural reaction.

In fact, feeling controlled by the world made him so angry that his young body was betraying him. He was breaking down physically. But to William's way of thinking, his health problems were just another series of events that were happening to him. After all, people get sick, right? Lots of people have health problems, right? William was blind to any connection between his anger and his physical maladies. Never even occurred to him.

After all, things just happened to him.

I've said this many, many times since waking up myself. If you want to live an attractive, very cool life, you need to see yourself at the center of the universe. Not in an ego-oriented way, but rather that you are the creator of everything in your experience.

Every. Thing.

Is this absolutely true? Yes. Maybe. Who knows? The greater truth is that the answer to that question does not really matter. What does matter is that you begin to see yourself as the creator of everything that occurs in your life. You shift your locus of control from the external to the internal. Very often people are reluctant to take full responsibility for their lives in this way. Why? Because this means they will have to change, of course. And nothing scares people more than change.

But, if you can make this shift and see your life through the lens that you are creating and attracting all the circumstances in your life, after an adjustment period, typically something wonderful happens.

You take charge of your life.

You become empowered. In other words, the power of the universe now lies within you instead of residing in the hands of everyone else. You now walk through life with the magic wand that allows you to grow, change, and evolve. When you see yourself as the master of your own destiny, as the director of the play that is your life, the anger melts away. It serves no purpose anymore.

But until this awareness takes place, anger is the natural response. The real purpose of anger is to give us the feedback that something is not optimal in our approach to life. Something needs to change. Or something needs to be felt and released. Like pain in the body, anger is a natural feedback system to provide us with valuable information.

Coming back to my work as a coach, what I "do" more than anything is listen to people. I take them in. I notice what I feel when I am around them. And then I share my feelings and experiences with the individual. In the case of William, I noticed that he complained incessantly. He used the word "hate" unconsciously and repeatedly. He told his stories about the people who wronged him. He became defensive at the slightest provocation. People were against him.

What I could feel underneath anything that he did or said was his fear. I suppose it would be terrifying if you felt as if your destiny was outside of your control or that you had to protect yourself all the time. But ironically, this fear and anger only seemed to attract more of the same in his life.

William never asked me what I thought. So I did not share any of this with him. (In my experience, if I am not invited to share, people do not hear what I have to share.)

But perhaps someone will find it valuable…

best,

d

 

 

(As a lover of music, songs just pop into my head when I'm thinking about a concept. Here's the Styx song that played in my head as I typed this… I think the title is perfect — "Fooling Yourself — Angry Young Man" and it's from the aptly titled album, "The Grand Illusion."   Relax. Take it easy… )

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Last night I had a flashback to my childhood. I was probably eight or nine, and playing shortstop for my Little League team, Moran's Pedal & Wheels bike shop. Late in close game with two outs, a routine grounder came my way. Booted it for an error. Nothing too unusual about that in Little League.

Next pitch, another grounder. Same result. At this point I'm just hoping that the next ball goes to someone else.

It doesn't. Nor the next. Or the next. Or the next six straight batters. Six balls hit to me. And I missed every one of them. In front of my mom. In front of the other kids' parents. In front of my teammates and friends.

Two of my close friends were on the opposing team. I remember Greg yelling out "hit it to Drew" after my fourth error or so. And I remember the teams howls of delight from the dugout when the batter followed Greg's advice.

I remember the tears rolling down my face. Not being able to see through the tears. And making another error. I don't remember what happened after that.

I just remembered the whole incident as I thought back on to the events of last night. On Thursday nights in the summer I play softball. The foundation of our team is more about camaraderie than competitiveness. Still no one likes to lose, right?

Anyway, we didn't really show up to play last night and we're getting our asses handed to us. No big deal. Lots of guys showed up and everyone was getting a chance to hit and play the field. In the late innings of a meaningless game, a teammate, John, jogged out to right field to get some playing time.

John is not a very good softball player. His body is Homer Simpson-esque. He's tentative going after fly balls. He does not run well. He is, however, a genuinely nice man. Right field is usually the safest place to put someone you're trying to hide in the outfield. But this team had a lot of left-handed hitters. And balls started to find John. One after the other.

He caught one for an out. It was an adventure to behold, but he caught it. And then the troubles began. John missed three fly balls in a variety of manners. Runners circled the bases. The other team celebrated. At this point in the evening the teams that were to play after us were warming up. And watching. So were their wives and kids. So was John's wife. From my position at shortstop, I could hear some jeers from other players.

Another ball hit in John's direction. But this one was really hit closer to our right center fielder, Pat. Where John is round and soft, Pat is hard and stocky — a power lifter with cartoonishly large biceps. I've no way of knowing what Pat's intentions were, but even though the ball was closer to him than John, he did not move. My thought is that he didn't want to be associated with John's struggles in the field. By making John chase another ball, I got the feeling that he was punishing John for his previous mistakes. For being weak.

The ball rolled deeper in the outfield. John glanced at Pat, recognized that Pat was taking no responsibility for the ball, expressed his displeasure with Pat, and he lumbered after it. The batter had crossed home plate as John was getting the ball.

And John had been embarrassed again.

When the inning finally ended, John threw his glove and told his wife "That's it! I'm done!" He wasn't far from tears. Back on the bench. Most of the talk was about getting together after the game.

Again, I think John is a very nice guy. I felt for him and I told him so. I was also very disturbed by Pat's behavior. He easily could have helped, but his (in)actions made someone else look foolish. Someone phsyically weaker than him.

As is often the case when something strikes me, a song popped into my head. A Jane's Addiction song called "True Nature" kept playing in my head (and later on my stereo, loudly) the rest of the night. The hook of the song goes like this:

How you
treat the weak
is your true nature calling

This may read like an indictment of Pat. It's not meant to be. He just happened to be in this story. As is always the case, when I point the finger of judgement back at myself, it's clear that I can be a first-class touchhole (my dad's word) every now and again. I express contempt for people whom I perceive to be less intelligent, athletic, attractive, awake, than I am. Mostly out of habit and unconsciousness

For whatever reason, the playing fields of his life are not even. Perhaps people are doing the best that they can. Even when they are not. Perhaps in finding compassion for other people, we find the compassion we so desperately need for ourselves and our own weaknesses.

Perhaps through love and compassion we experience our truest nature.

Happy Valentine's Day.

Last night I found myself thinking of past Valentine's Days. Truthfully, only one came to mind. This was about thirteen years ago (is that possible?) and I was a graduate student at Syracuse University working toward my Ph.D. in social psychology. As a graduate student, Syracuse offered me a full scholarship in exchange for my teaching or assisting psychology classes.

In December of my first year, I started receiving notes from an admirer. They showed up at my office desk, my campus mailbox, and my home. These letters were well-written, thoughtful, and respectful. I got a least one a week and I grew to look forward to hearing such nice things about myself.

Who doesn't like having a secret admirer, right?

I remember trying to match up the handwriting with the women in my department. I had many wishful thoughts as to my admirer's identity, but I could never be sure.

This game went on for months. Until February 14th. Valentine's Day.

At 10PM that evening the phone rang. I lived with three other guys at the time. This was before the days of ubiquitous caller ID, but I knew that this call for me. My housemate called out, "Drew, it's for you…"

My heart thumped in my chest. I knew that this was to be the moment of truth.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Drew. It's me James."

"James?"

"Yes, James from your class last semester."

I felt a sense of disappointment and relief that this was a student and not my admirer. James was a model pupil and a terrific young man.

"What can I do for you James?" I said, trying to slow my heart rate.

"Well… I was wondering if you got my letters?" he asked.

PAUSE.

PREGNANT PAUSE.

AWKWARD SILENCE.

"James, I'm really sorry…" was all I could sputter at first. I really felt for this kid. He was feeling my rejection and I could feel his deep sadness that his desire would not be manifesting in the way he had envisioned it.

As shocked as I was at my admirer's identity, I immediately felt great respect for James. He stuck his neck out there for his desire and it could not have been easy for him to do so. He put himself in the line of fire, and he left rejected and embarrassed. I did my best to convey these thoughts to James and we hung up.

I sat in the hallway for a few minutes, silent. The reality of the situation washed over me. All the pieces clicked into place, piece by piece, letter by letter. There were clues in those notes, as James had pointed out in our conversation, and I had missed every one of them.

While I was not the manifestation of James' desire, I have little doubt that somewhere down the line he manifested his desire in the form of someone else.

A couple points worth highlighting from this Valentine's Day story. According to Abraham-Hicks, the first rule of Attraction is "Ask and it is given." In order to manifest, you have to ask. So you must always ask (and be a vibrational match) for what it is that you desire. Start by asking. Out loud. With certainty and joy. James asked.

Number two: Do not get caught up in the form of things. Using relationships as an example, I often hear from people who want to attract one specific person in their life. In other words, caught up in the over-identification with their ego, they try to force an outcome. They try to impose their will rather than holding an intention and letting the universe work out the details.

Using this example, James made it clear to the universe that he wanted a relationship and using me, he identified lots of the characteristics that he desired in a partner. I was not a vibrational match for this desire. Now James could have lamented this fact and wasted all his energy trying to make something happen in the face of insurmountable resistance. Or he could recognize that the universe had gotten his order and was already preparing it for him in a way that was better than he could have expected. His work would be to stay in that place of trust that because he had asked, the universe would deliver — even if the gift came in different wrapping paper.

Ask for something you really want today. Feel the joy of it coming into your experience. Regardless of the "reality" you find yourself surrounded by, even if you have no clue how things could possibly work out, your work it to get into the feeling place of resonance with your desire. Allow it to come. And it will.