GOOGLE APPS & G-MAIL

(not exciting, but important)

Okay, there's this edgy little start-up company… They go by the name of Google. I know it sounds funny, but they do some cool stuff. In fact, they have a really good e-mail program.

What? You already know this? Well, I'll share my experiences anyway, just in case…

Here's where I'm coming from… Outlook served me pretty well for a while. I mean, it was just the easiest thing to use for e-mail. The default. But there were some annoyances.

Old e-mails would get archived somewhere where I couldn't seem to access them. I could not easily check all of my e-mail accounts (I have several) easily without having my computer with me. And the camel that broke the straw's back? The ridiculous and depressing amount of SPAM that I had to delete.

I flirted with a G-mail account, just like I had with a Yahoo account. Never really used it for anything but storage though. But like $4 gas, the pain of deleting SPAM was enough for me to change my behavior.

I signed up for a Google Premier account for $50 a year. I now receive all my e-mails to one central G-mail account. I get maybe one SPAM message in my inbox a day. And best of all, I can access my e-mail from whatever computer I'm using — Mac or PC, mine or a friend's.

Plus with Google Doc (like Microsoft Word), I can keep all my writings in an online, decentralized location for easy access and no fear of hard drive failure.

What makes this cool? The FREEDOM it allows me.

If you've got one e-mail address and nothing terribly important comes into your life via e-mail (like money!), you're probably fine with Outlook or whatever if you can handle the SPAM.

But if you want to upgrade, and simplify your life, I recommend the Google Apps package.

Google Apps

Also, I am a big fan of Google Desktop. This program has saved my ass many, many times. Let me briefly elaborate… Google Desktop is a search engine for everything on your computer. Believe it or don't, I am not the most organized guy with my computer files. Google Desktop allows me to find anything I misplace — documents, photos, e-mails, websites I've visited — instantly (none of that chug, chug, chugging with an Outlook search or an XP search).

Finally, Google Desktop makes a cache of your files. Why is this important? Everyone has had the experience of losing an important document just as you are a few keystrokes away from being done. Many, many times, Google Desktop has saved me from saying bad words at a loud volume by having a copy of my file.

Check it out. Again, I know this isn't the most exciting topic — but infrastructure is important and paying attention to it has the power to improve the quality of your life. Plus, I needed to post something…

d

I started losing my hair when I was 17. I've chronicled this personal horrorshow before, so I won't go into too much depth about the experience here. However, the other night I thought back to that time of my life.

As you might imagine, as a balding young man, I was desperate for a solution to my problem. In my early 20’s, I found myself sitting in a hair restoration office in search of an answer.

The people selling the hair were no fools. The first thing they did was take a Polaroid of the crown of my head — the place I never see. I sat in the barber-like chair, waving the photo in my hand, waiting for things to come into focus.

When things became clear, I stopped breathing. All I could see was my pink scalp. I held the proof in my hands and thought to myself,

"Am I really THAT bald?”

I knew I was losing my hair, but I had no clue things had gotten this far. Fearing I would never know the soft touch of a woman again, I decided I needed to do something. Like, now.

Minutes later, I signed some contract for thousands of dollars that I did not have and ordered my hair. Of course, that didn't work out so well, but that's not my point here.

My point is that the hair restoration company knew the power of that Polaroid. They knew that men wanted to solve their problem, but often without the sense of urgency to BUY now. After all, when these guys looked in the mirror, they were not balder then the week before. Or the month before. And who remembers what they looked like a year ago, anyway?

Most natural hair loss occurs gradually. Each day you look in the mirror and simply think “that’s me.” The 70-100 hairs went down the drain that morning, never to return, are not noticeable among the many thousands still taking root. It’s not until you see an old photo of yourself or someone tells you (“getting a little thin on top, eh Drew?”) that you become conscious of the degree of the problem. (Of course, losing you hair really isn’t a problem. But, it can sure feel that way.)

Last week I began a super-intense workout program. The program insists that you take "before" photos to compare with the ripped beast you've become twelve weeks later. So I took some shots of myself in the positions recommended by the program.

Viewing at the photos of my shirtless self, posed in all different positions reminds me of that Polaroid from the hair office so many years ago. Quite simply, I do not look as good as I thought I did. In my mind, I was 30 sit-ups away from a Thelma and Louise-era Brad Pitt.  In one instant, I had a new awareness that made it clear to me what I did not want (my body to look like this) as well as what I did want (my body to be strong, lean, and tight).

To evolve, the first thing you need is the ability to see yourself clearly. If you are working on something cosmetic, a Polaroid will do. However, if you are looking to move forward in your life, you’ll need to see how and where you’re getting in your own way. You need to understand your habits, beliefs, and the blind spots that have led you to where you are now.

Some of this work can be done alone with conscious practice, but so often when it comes to important personal issues, we are fish in water. Just as a fish lives in water and has no awareness of life outside of water, without some objective feedback, you remain unaware of all the old patterns that hold you back. Instead, you mistake your conditioned way of being as “you.”

I suppose I am making the case for personal coaching here, though that was not my intent when I started this piece. In my opinion, the role of a great coach is to be that Polaroid – to show you from a more objective perspective as to who you really are, what’s in the way, and also to explore what’s possible.

Of course, not everyone is willing to hire a coach. And that’s fine. But the greater truth is that to truly see all of ourselves, we all need some help from the outside. That’s how we came into this world and that’s what keeps us connected throughout life.

My workouts have been grueling so far. But it’s been easy to get myself out of my nice cozy bed every morning. You know why? Because the first thing I think of it my BEFORE picture.

Meaningful action and change are natural by-products of awareness. Always.

So, know thyself. Get conscious. And reach out.

 

 

One of the ways I touch God in my life is through animals.

I love animals and I feel a powerful connection to them. This hardly makes me unique, I know. After all, dogs and cats are quite popular.

But one of the great joys in my life has to do with being surrounded by animals of all sorts and seeing them in their element. Seeing a deer on the side of the road is about as exciting to some people as seeing a stop sign, but it never fails to give me a little boost.

I love hearing the mourning doves, the chickadees, and the woodpeckers outside my wondow right now. So small and yet they make such a noise. Hearing the SCREEE of the red-tail hawk echo off the hillside gets my blood moving.

There's nothing like hearing a pack of coyotes howling at night while you're lying in bed. Spooky, but so cool.

On the homefront, watching my dog bound in a river to retrieve a stick or seeing my cat sleep in blissful peace on top of the couch brings waves of good feelings.

The other day I saw something I had never seen in the wild.

I was visiting my brother as he was pushing around heaps of his 65 acres with a bulldozer. His property is on a hillside and he was working at the bottom. His road impassable, I got out of my car, said hello, and then walked the half mile up to his house to visit his dogs, read his Sunday paper, and see the fruits of his 'dozing.

After doing all of those things, I headed down the path. In a shaded area, something crossed the road in front of me. It looked like a housecat, but it was a little bigger and had a bobbed tail. A bobcat! I've heard they were around, but I'd never seen one. And now I was pretty sure I had. But the lighting wasn't great, I was twenty yards away, and I'd only had a second or two before the creature disappeared into the woods.

I walked quietly to where I had seen the cat and slowly entered the woods, hoping to catch another glance. After a few steps, the brush was too thick. I returned to the path, still feeling excited about what I'd seen. I'd proceeded less than twenty feet when I looked back to the woods.

The cat stared directly at me. I had a clear view and he was no more than 20-25 feet away. We locked eyes. This was no housecat. I could feel the presence of a wild animal. For a moment or two, I thought he might charge me. I wasn't fearful though — he could not have weighed 30 pounds and even with my sandals, I think I coulda taken him.

But he just sat there. Watching me. His short tail twiched a few times. And I studied him — noting his longer coat, whiskers, and that short tail.

A moment later he was bounding through the woods, a combination of running and hopping.

As I walked down to speak with my brother, I knew why I had visited this day… my heart was full and I was thankful for the gift I had been bestowed.

 

 

          one of my "bobcats" on a lovely June morning…

 

First, a few words of appreciation for those of you out there who read this blog and have stuck by me over what we will now refer to as "the Dark Period."

I won't bore you with the details, but the number of technical things that went wrong got to be comical. A fine lesson in patience. Time to move on.

But now we're back and I'm typing this in the early morning fog at Cape Cod. Just me, the chirping birds, and the gurgling coffee maker so far.

(Check that. My nephew Kelly just stumbled into the room, searching for the remote so he can watch some cartoons. Looks like Clifford the Big Red Dog gets the call this AM. The vacation house has cable TV, Kelly's home in New Hampshire does not. You can see the appeal).

Days go like this. Wake up. Realize where you are. Say a prayer of thanks to sister-in-law Laura who's kind enough to feed your pets for the week. Return to sleep for another hour or two. Arise. Maybe go for a walk. Maybe not. Eat a hearty breakfast. Farm fresh eggs. Good toast. Dry rubbed bacon. And coffee on the deck.

From there, the day leads to the beach. We're far enough out on Cape Cod (probably 10 miles or so from Provincetown — the absolute tip of the hook), where we're only a few minutes from either the bay side or the ocean side beaches.

Soon after breakfast, my sister and her husband begin prepping and packing for the day ahead at the beach. You see, they have four children and my sister is currently pregnant with twins. Getting ready to go anywhere is, um, no day at the beach (I could not resist that one). But they do an admirable job of getting all the supplies together, packing them up, and moving the whole mass forward to the destination. In my admiration of them and all they do for their kids, I appreciate my own parents who used to load up their five kids in a VW bus and make the 9 hour trek to Maine each summer. As a child, my fondest memories come from those summer trips.

So, Karin and I make it to the beach with relative ease. Couple blankets, towels, books, beers. Actually, we packed too light. I'm no sun worshipper, so the majority of my time on the beach is spent sitting and reading under cover. Problem is, like camping, we were lacking the most important piece of equipment for a day at the beach — the beach chair.

After a couple of hours, we got wise and headed in the direction of the nearest beach store To our delight, they had the quarry we hunted. The owner was out and about, wrestling with flotation devices shaped like octopii, and he struck me as a knowledgeable fellow despite the new Red Sox cap sitting upon his head.

We asked for beach chairs and he obviously saw me as a man who meant business (I think my Yankees cap telegraphed this message). He took us right to the "backpack chair," the chair he owns, the "best chair" he had on the premises. You see, the sturdy chair folds up like a backpack, has a pouch to store stuff, and keeps your hands free for that trek from the car to the beach.

Sold. We'll take two. And give us a couple of little umbrellas that attach to the back for good measure.

Back at the beach it became clear that the hundred bucks was money well spent for a week at the beach. We could sit comfortably for hours. Just reading, relaxing, and listening to the surf. A simple beach chair will turn a I-should-be-having-a-good-time-but-I'm-rather-uncomfortable experience into an isn't-this-lovely experience.

So, a couple points. First, gear is everything. If you do any sort of outdoor activity, you already know this, but this is a just another reminder. Don't skimp on the gear.

Second, my favorite part of the experience at the shop was walking in there, thrilled to invest in the best chair  the store had to offer. The best chair makes a good time a great time. It also further aligns me with my desire to experience the best of everything in life. I desire and deserve the best of everything. And I am happy to invest in surrounding myself with the very best.

Okay, I've had too much coffee, the colors and sounds of SpongeBob now fill the room, and it's time to see if I can still fly a kite on the beach.

Some cool pix to follow (I forgot the little cordy-thingy to upload from my camera…)

– d

 

Over the past weekend, I was visiting my future in-laws as they were kind enough to host and engagement party for Karin and me. Good times.

Before the party on Saturday, I parked myself in front of the big screen TV for a few minutes to enjoy the wonders of cable television and the magic of high definition.

In the early afternoon, even with hundreds of channels, there was really nothing on (I suppose this is why I don't have cable in the first place), but of course, you can always find something to watch.

As a dog-lover and the pack-leader of two such creatures, I stopped my incessant channel changing when I found a program called "The Dog Whisperer". The program featured renowned dog expert, Cesar Millan, coaching people to understand the core issues between them and their mis-behaving pooches.

The episode began by showing a woman walking her muzzled pet. She was obviously very scared of her dog –all her body language pointed to this fact. The dog growled, jumped, and pulled. She grew more and more helpless in demeanor and spirit with each step.

Cesar jumped in and asked a question.

"How do you feel around your dog?"

"I am terrified," she replied.

Without getting into proper correction techniques and so forth, he told her that this was the real problem. He told her that the dog was merely responding to her energy. The dog could feel her uneasiness and responded in kind. Cesar told her that the dog wanted to feel like she was in charge and that the dog could follow her lead at all times. The key was to project calm, assertive energy. as dogs pick up feelings of fear, self-doubt, and worry.

I was just taken by how Cesar was speaking about the rules of energy and attraction to the woman. He wanted her to have a grounded energy, a yang energy, instead of her lighter, more scattered yin energy. Her dog's nervous energy just reflected her own. (Incidentally, I find that most people, especially women, who do not have some grounding force or practice in their life, tend to struggle more in the role of deliberate creators. Gotta find that yin/yang balance.)

Of course, if you've ever been around dogs, you're probably aware of this. Dogs, bees, people — EVERYTHING — respond to energy. Not wishes. Not desires. Not affirmations.

Energy.

Fear breeds fear. Confidence breeds confidence. Winning breeds winning. Losing breeds losing (just ask my sorry Yankees!). Money attracts money. You get the point…

The energy you project internally is the message you send out to the world and to the entire universe. It's your responsibility to be conscious of twhat you are putting out there.

One woman's praising Cesar said it best: "It's just amazing the changes that can be made by raising your consciousness to another level."

She was referring to her relationship with her dog, but when you are clear and clean about the energy you project, life begins to shift in amazing ways. But remember, it all starts with your energy and your awareness.

– drew

 

P.S. — those are my dogs, Thai and Tasha on our daily walk just over the border in Vermont.