Mortality  

On the day I die a lot will happen. A lot will change.

The world will be busy.

On the day I die, all the important appointments I made will be left unattended.

The many plans I had yet to complete will remain forever undone.

The calendar that ruled so many of my days will now be irrelevant to me.

All the material things I so chased and guarded and treasured will be left in the hands of others to care for or discard.

The words of my critics which so burdened me will cease to sting or capture anymore. They will be unable to touch me…

The arguments I believed I’d won will not serve me or bring me any satisfaction or solace.

All my noisy incoming notifications and texts and calls will go unanswered. Their great urgency will be quieted.

My many nagging regrets will all be resigned to the past, where they should always have been anyway.

Every superficial worry about my body that I ever labored over; about my waistline or hairline or frown lines, will fade away.

My carefully crafted image, the one I worked so hard to shape for others, will be left to them to complete.

The sterling reputation I once struggled so greatly to maintain will be of little concern for me anymore.

All the small and large anxieties that stole sleep from me each night will be rendered powerless.

The deep and towering mysteries about life and death that so consumed my mind will finally be clarified in a way that they could never be before, while I lived.

These things will certainly all be true on the day that I die.

Yet for as much as will happen on that day, one more thing will happen.

On the day I die, the few people who really know and truly love me will grieve deeply.

They will feel a void.

They will feel cheated.

They will not feel ready.

They will feel as though a part of them has died as well.

And on that day, more than anything in the world they will want more time with me.

I know this from those I love and grieve over.

And so knowing this, while I am still alive, I’ll try to remember that my time with them is finite and fleeting and so very precious—and I’ll do my best not to waste a second of it.

I’ll try not to squander a priceless moment, worrying about all the other things that will happen on the day I die, because many of those things are either not my concern or beyond my control.

Friends, those other things have an insidious way of keeping you from living even as you live; vying for your attention, competing for your affections.

They rob you of the joy of this unrepeatable, uncontainable, ever-evaporating ‘Now’ with those who love you and want only to share it with you.

Don’t miss the chance to dance with them while you can.

It’s easy to waste so much daylight in the days before you die.

Don’t let your life be stolen every day by all that you’ve been led to believe matters. Because on the day you die—the fact is, that much of it simply won’t.

But before that day comes, let us live.

I tried hard to find out who this David Reed is, but no success. There are many David Reeds out there. If I could identify this man, I would reach out to thank him for his profoundly powerful and exquisitely beautiful insights. 

And, true to his words, I would want to get to know him, so I could count him among the friends who might miss me — or perhaps I, him — when one of us passes, unexpectedly.

Thank you, David Reed. I am moved by your words. Maybe, those who are reading this article, will be too.

The post Thank you, David Reed appeared first on Larry Ackerman.

After swallowing my pride, I called upon a former colleague whose unconventional way of thinking, I’d always admired. He listened. Then, he asked some questions I hadn’t even thought of, and within an hour or two my view of “what was really going on” had shifted, significantly. It was positively liberating. I felt a profound sense of relief and a renewed sense of commitment...

Help! 

What does it mean if I ask you for help? Does it mean that I’m I basically incapable of solving my own problems? Am I afraid to try? Am I just lazy? Do I fear being perceived as weak or lost? Or, will I feel exposed and vulnerable?

It’s not always easy asking for help. But we all need it, now and again. It’s simply part of being human; perfectly imperfect. Unfortunately, there’s no manual that describes the best ways to ask for help. 

Recently, I attended an author’s retreat. As writers. all of us are veteran help-askers. We seek help in shaping and editing our stories, devising compelling titles, finding the right publisher for our works. One of our discussions was devoted to how to ask for help, not just as authors, but as individuals striving to live fulfilling and meaningful lives. Once we got going, the ideas flowed. What surfaced was the realization that asking for help is its own art form. It requires imagination and a bit of creativity to know how to ask for help. While there’s no one way, there are different forms of help we can turn to when the time is right.

Here’s the list we came up with and a quick description of each idea:

Ask me questions – I don’t know it all. Maybe a few good questions will get me going.

Show me how – Let me watch you do it.

Offer expert advice – You know more than I do about my challenge. Give me guidance.

Think creatively with me – Get out of the box with me. Let’s brainstorm.

Give me feedback – Tell me what you think about my predicament in constructive terms.

Be my sounding board – Just listen for a while. Then tell me what you heard.

Provide moral support – I’m frustrated and discouraged. Give me a boost. 

Lend a hand – I’m not sure I can do this alone. Work with me.

Loan me something I can use – What tools do you have I can apply to “fix” this?

Protect and care for me – I’m feeling vulnerable. Stay with me while I work this out.

Help me make sense of things – I’m confused. How can I put things into perspective?

Motivate me – I’m waffling. Don’t let that happen. Spur me on. 

Who do you know who could use your help and what are the best ways you can give it?  One more thing…what sort of help would help you? 

The post The art of asking for help appeared first on Larry Ackerman.

That’s mostly “adult talk.” So, what about the children? How do we prepare them to navigate these waters? I vote for kindness; more specifically, I vote for teaching our kids about the joy of giving rather than taking.

The other day, I came across a wonderful article on how we can help our kids understand — and practice — the joy of giving.

The article names five practices for parents; in brief:

• Be intentional — Make a point of talking to your children about giving and charity
• Think beyond your family — Let children know that they’re part of a larger community; even that they are “global citizens”
• Involve kids in decisions — Include your children in discussions about to whom something should be given and why
• Gift outside the box — Consider the value of giving experiences not just things
• Include the art of receiving — Learning how to receive gifts gracefully and with gratitude is as important as giving

This deceptively simple piece, and the wisdom it offers, might just renew your faith in what it means to be human. It did for me.

If after reading this intriguing article, you’re moved by its insights, share it with others. Our future depends on it. Let me know what you think.

The post Can kids learn the joy of giving? appeared first on Larry Ackerman.

This time, I find that experience to be especially challenging, given the insanity going on in the world today. But, that’s life. So, this year, I invite you to tell me and others what it is you believe about a variety of topics — some comforting and others clearly bot. Here you go:

I believe Donald Trump ____________________

I believe compassion ______________________

I believe family ___________________________

I believe wealth ___________________________

I believe truth ____________________________

I believe freedom _________________________

I believe ISIS ____________________________

I believe denial ___________________________

I believe America _________________________

I believe evil _____________________________

I believe good ____________________________

Got your own idea? Fill it in here _______________

The post What do you believe? (v.4) appeared first on Larry Ackerman.

One of the climbers, Kevin Jorgeson said of the achievement: “I hope it inspires people to find their own Dawn Wall. We’ve been working on this thing a long time, slowly and surely. I think everyone has their own secret Dawn Wall to complete one day, and maybe they can put this project in their own context.”

I think we do, too. I know I do, although, I’m not always sure what that is. No matter. What matters is waking up to the possibility that there’s a larger purpose to our lives than just getting through the day — something that takes the courage, patience, determination, grit, vision, and passion these two guys put into their climb.

Or, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe, it doesn’t matter at all; maybe, getting through the day about 30,000 times (that’s 80+ years, if you’re interested), is enough. No Dawn Walls, but lots of dawns.

What a waste of a life, but that’s just my opinion.

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