Babe Ruth hit 714 home runs in his 22-year career. He also struck out 1,330 times. When he swung the bat, not even he knew exactly what would happen.

Sometimes I create art that feels like a grand slam home run. I am convinced that everyone everywhere will love it. Awards will be won, museums will come calling, and grown men will weep.

Instead, the ball glances off the end of my bat and dribbles weakly down the first base line. The world responds to my brilliant work of art with a deafening, “Meh.”

Then there are other times when something I created as an afterthought, with scant care and attention, grips someone and changes them in a profound way.

This is the mystery of creativity. 

A few weeks ago, I wrote about my childhood art hero, Ed Emberley. I adored his step-by-step drawing books, which he was most known for. After finding a book about his career, I was surprised to see that he had created over a hundred books, and most of them were not in the style I was familiar with.
He won a Caldecott award for one of his early works, illustrated with woodcuts, which are very time intensive. But the publishing industry is a hungry beast. When you feed it a success, it craves more and more.

It turns out the popular drawing books started out as a stopgap. It was simply an idea he knew he could complete quickly to get the publisher off his back so he could spend more time on another woodcut project that required more time.

Of course, the drawing books took off, which led to many follow-ups in that series (because you know, the hungry beast.)  

That’s the thing about all creative endeavors. You never know what people will like or what will strike a chord. It’s best not to try to figure it out but rather to keep taking swings.

And by creative endeavors, I don’t necessarily mean those which are inherently “artistic.” A creative endeavor could be searching for a small business idea to provide a new source of income, working to find solutions for transforming a negative workplace culture, or experimenting with ways to get your kid to eat her veggies.

If you are a parent with grown children, you might be able to relate to a scenario in which the adult child is asked to share the most memorable advice you ever shared with them. And their answer is some line you barely remember saying. And you wonder, “Really? You remember that more than all the other stuff I spent so much more time on?”

In all these cases, you just never know what will take off.

Too often we sabotage ourselves by waiting for the right idea. The perfect solution. The foolproof plan. But sometimes the best idea never seems to materialize. Or maybe it’s hidden somewhere in the discard pile.

So the answer is to keep swinging. Keep tinkering. If you don’t know what idea will work, the best approach is to have lots of them. Then try as many as possible. Just don’t get stuck in the trap of holding out for the “right” one.

At work. In your marriage. With your family. And yes, in art. Don’t be discouraged when something you were certain would work fails. Another idea might surprise you with its effectiveness. That’s the mystery of the creative process.

Take it from the Babe. Not everything you do is a home run. Just keep swinging. 

In January of 2020, I was thisclose to giving up on my twenty-year dream of living in a lake home. Then the pandemic hit, making the decision all but irrelevant, considering the fact I calculated that if we didn’t figure out an alternative revenue stream to speaking, we’d be bankrupt by November. Instead, that became the month we signed a contract to buy our dream house on Lake Michigan.

How did we do that? 

Well, my faith gives all the credit to God, who opened doors and led us every step of the way.

All we did was follow arrows.

The concept of following arrows comes from a book I read by Emily P. Freeman called The Next Right Thing. It was a metaphor that harmonized perfectly with the advice I’d been giving for years on tinkering.

The premise is that sometimes in life, we’re looking for answers to our problems. But instead of answers, we get arrows. These arrows are next steps on the journey.

The problem is that we ignore the arrows, or even worse, let our logic get in the way and smother them with our own agenda. 

Our job is NOT to wait for the entire plan to be revealed before we take our first step. 

Our job is NOT to figure out five steps before we take the first. 

Our job is to stop our frantic search for answers and follow the arrows instead.

One. At. A. Time.

In the process of sharing this concept with others, I’ve seen that some people misunderstand what this process looks like. They imagine an orderly progression of steps that make sense. Ha! It’s almost never like that, at least in my experience. It looks more like this:

It’s haphazard and maddening, a path littered with false starts, dead ends, and wasted time.

You usually can’t see more than one arrow at a time, and the steps are never as sexy or certain as we’d like them to be.

I’ve told the story of how following arrows led us to our dream home in my short film, Here Comes the Sun. At one point in our journey, we followed an arrow that led us to visit wooded lots with intentions to build. We traipsed through brush and fields with our realtor, eventually coming to the realization that building our dream home wasn’t the right option for us. It seemed like a dead end.

But that assessment is what led us to the next arrow: visiting a Parade of Homes. There we met a contractor, someone we had the feeling we were supposed to know.

Eventually, our search led us to the perfect house and we put in our best offer. We didn’t get it. Another dead end, or so it seemed.

We kept following arrows, looking at other homes, and came upon one that seemed right, but was more expensive. It required us to get more creative with finances and Kim’s parents offered to float us a loan. 

We put in an offer. We didn’t get it. (What the heck, arrows?!) 

A month later, out of nowhere, the original house came back on the market and we were able to get it for a better price. The extra money from Kim’s parents became the seed money we needed to build out my art studio. 

When it came to that point, we reached out to the contractor we met at the Parade of Homes to bid on the renovation. He took forever, and when we finally received it, it was way more expensive than we could afford. 

That led us to consider another guy we hired to install light fixtures who we later discovered also did contracting. Chad has been a Godsend, and the process of working together has connected us with many people who have helped our family in various ways. 

This is just a snapshot of our story. I skipped a few arrows for the sake of brevity, but in reality, the formidable path stretched across two decades. It remains a good example of how the process of following arrows is rarely neat and orderly. It only looks that way in retrospect, because with the power of hindsight, we can see how it all worked together — all the twists and turns and dead ends — in a way that served a purpose.

But in the middle of it, it’s a hot mess. It’s slow, then fast, then slow again, offering up a sharp left turn where you ram into what appears to be a brick wall. But it’s there another arrow is revealed, an arrow you never would have found had you not made it to the brick wall in the first place. 

It requires humility to take what feels like a small, inconsequential step when you’re tempted to wait for a seemingly more significant, more productive one.

It requires discipline to keep reminding yourself that you only have to look for and take the next arrow, not the next ten, or five, or two. 

It requires courage to follow the clear arrow in front of you, when the next one after that is nowhere to be seen. 

It requires persistence to keep going when you are discouraged by the brick walls.

And it requires faith that that the path will eventually make sense, and that the twists and turns and detours all serve a purpose.

Maybe you are in the middle of a dense forest right now, hemmed in by thorny thicket and brambles. Maybe you’re in the middle of a barren desert, with no answers in sight.

It’s ok. Follow the arrows instead.

God won’t let you miss your future.

If the movies taught me anything, it’s that superheroes wear spandex.

We’ve been led to believe that superheroes are special. They come from another planet. They are blessed with superhuman abilities. They are super smart, or rich, or got involved in some sort of dangerous science experiment that turned out ok. They typically wear cool outfits while traveling in cool vehicles and wielding cool accessories.
 
Also, their muscles have muscles.

This painting is an homage to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, who, when they first emerged from the sewer in 1984, clearly challenge the notion of what heroes are supposed to look like.

The truth is, real heroes hardly ever look like they do in the movies.

Oftentimes, they look a lot like you.

The turtle in this painting has emerged from its comfortable ocean surroundings and is wearing a mask that symbolizes two important concepts.

The first is that it’s not all about us.

Superheroes often hide their identity, giving them a sense of anonymity. Real heroes don’t do it for the glory and they don’t demand credit. They serve a cause greater than themselves, and their chief motivation is doing the right thing and helping others. The mask can serve as a physical reminder that it’s not about us.

Secondly, the mask gives us permission to act “as if.”

Part of the reason children and adults alike enjoy wearing Halloween costumes is that it gives us permission to be someone different. The mask can be an opportunity to wander outside our comfort zone and try on a new way of acting, to be someone better than perhaps we believe we are. I like the advice from Joe Rogan, who suggested that if you’re unsure about what action to take in a particular situation, ask what the hero in the movie would do. In the beginning, it might feel a lot like acting,  but that way of acting might just stick, and before you know it, you’ll end up doing something that once seemed superheroic.

Ultimately, being a hero is not about how you look, what you wear, or where you come from. 

This painting challenges the notion of what superheroes look like, and reminds us that in order to become one, we might need to leave our comfort zone in order to take action.

It might be serving a cause greater than ourselves, standing up for what’s right, regardless of how unpopular it makes us.

It might be standing up to the bully at work (or the one in our head).

It’s often as simple as staying under the radar and just helping someone who needs helping, whether it’s a child, an elderly neighbor, or a random guy struggling to load something into his car.

We are all called to be heroes.

This calling may require sacrifice, a bit of discomfort, and a new way of acting, but it doesn’t require spandex.

In 2016, the Chicago Cubs spent a wheelbarrow of money – 184 million dollars, to be exact – on a free agent outfielder named Jason Heyward. By almost every measure, with the exception of his stellar defense, he failed to live up to expectations. He struggled though a rough year, but amidst all the boos, I watched him persist admirably with the things he could control: namely his work ethic, attitude, and leadership.

He ultimately came through when it most counted, and it wasn’t with a timely hit, stolen base, or spectacular catch. In the seventh game of the World Series, during a rain delay that came moments after the Cubs had surrendered a three-run lead that would have secured their first championship in 108 years, Jason called a players-only meeting. Tom Verducci wrote about it in the book The Cubs Way:

Heyward began, “I know some things may have happened tonight you don’t like.  But we’re the best team in baseball, and we’re the best team in baseball for a reason. Now we’re going to show it. We play like the score is nothing-nothing. We’ve got to stay positive and fight for your brothers. Stick together and we’re going to win this game.” 

Other players began to speak up…The entire delay took only 17 minutes, but a different team came out of the weight room from the one that had entered it…The dugout suddenly was alive with shouting and joking.

The Cubs went on to score two runs in the top of the 10th, held on for an 8–7 victory, and became champions for the first time in a century. Heyward didn’t score the winning run or secure the final out. He merely reminded his teammates of what was true and what they were capable of. We’ll never know for sure, but I don’t think the Cubs would have won the World Series without that timely speech from Jason Heyward. 

When I was a few years into my career, I started referring to myself as a “professional reminder-er.” It was always good for a laugh, and helped me justify my existence on stage. After all, who was I to be speaking to these people, especially those who were older, smarter, and more experienced than me?  

As the years have piled up, I still use the line. It’s still good for a laugh and helps disarm people who might be wondering what they have to learn from a guy wearing a Capn’ Crunch t-shirt. But now I know the truth. I know how important reminder-ers are, for all of us.

James Clear, author of the brilliant book Atomic Habits, says “People keep reading self-help and revisiting the same ideas because that’s precisely what we need: to be reminded.  The problem is not that information is unhelpful, but that attention is fleeting.  Nobody focuses on one idea every minute of the day. Good books refocus the mind.” 

Focus is hard to come by during normal times, even harder during a pandemic. I felt like I’ve been a broken record – or for you young ones, a song stuck on repeat – since COVID hit last March. But that’s ok. Because I know that we can have our head on straight one day – complete with a positive attitude, sunny outlook, and a spring in our step – and the next day, after being drenched with a downpour of bad news and mud-slinging, we need to be reminded again.

And again. And again.

That what our live show aims to be, as well as the message I send out every Sunday morning to Adultitis Fighters like you: a weekly reminder about what is true and what you are capable of. I may do my reminding professionally, but we are all called to be reminder-ers.

Are there people in your life – friends, students, siblings, children, parents, your spouse –  who need to reminded of how much they’ve accomplished? Of how special they are? Of how much you love them?

We’re entering the home stretch of 2020. Please allow me to remind you of some things that are true and what you are capable of.

First of all, you’ve come a long way. You are stronger, braver, and more resilient than you think.

If you are willing to own it, this pandemic is the opportunity of a lifetime, the moment you’ve been waiting for.

Not everything has to be great for you to see the good in a situation.

When something is broken, it might not be the end but rather a new beginning.

God is always working. Good things are happening even if we don’t see them.

The cure for fear is thankfulness. It’s impossible to feel anxious when you are practicing gratitude.

The only thing you really have control over is that which happens under your own roof. Focus on that.

Blessed are all who take refuge in the Lord. You can be brave because you have backup. 

We all have something valuable to share. We don’t have to be the same in order to work together.

During dark nights of the soul, sometimes we need patience and sometimes we need a new perspective. Either way, dawn is coming.

When you are hopeless, look for the light. Darkness is real, but light is more powerful. Fix your eyes  on the good things happening all around you. 

In many ways, 2020 has felt like one long rain delay. Our lives have been put on hold and we don’t know how long this disruption will last. It’s not over yet, but it will be soon. 

In the meantime, your job is to be a light to others, in the ways only you can. Never underestimate the importance of reminding people what is true and what they were capable of.

The secret I have come to realize is that in reminding others, we also end up reminding ourselves that the rain will end and the sun will shine again.

• In case you haven’t already seen it, you can turn yourself into a Peanuts character. Can’t wait for this movie!

• These vertical panoramic photographs of New York churches by Richard Silver are a striking example of how powerful a change of perspective can be.

• Sometimes the rules that we follow seem completely normal to us, but will someday be seen as completely ridiculous to our kids.

• Enjoyed these artistic interpretations of how various Disney characters would show their #DisneySide. (Hat tip to Jenna)

Finally, some posts from around here you may have missed:

• That Time I Slimed Adultitis

• You Are More Creative Than You Think

It was 5:00 on a Thursday night. I had to leave for Zumba at 6:40. Two chicken breasts were on the counter 95% thawed. Like most normal nights in our household, Jason was in charge of dinner. On this particular evening, he was two doors down at our neighbors helping them with some computer challenges. (Jason is my fav tech guru!)

The phone rang. It was the very neighbor Jason was assisting. In an “Ode to Spontaneity,” he invited the three of us to join him and his wife for some pizza. Why not? I’ve been wanting to be more spontaneous, and this sure qualified.

I stuck the chicken back in the fridge, changed into my Zumba gear, and bundled up Lucy to make the easy commute down to dine with our friends. Before we knew it, we found ourselves sitting around their beautifully candlelit table joining hands for a moment of thanksgiving.

What was I thankful for?

Well, the obvious gift of the day had to be the fabulously spontaneous open arms of hospitality offered by our wonderful neighbors, “Poppy and Grammy,” as Lucy so affectionately calls them.

Simple fare (pizza and hot wings) with rich conversation and connectedness.

Our time was limited (Zumba was calling my name) but another lesson was learned: it’s not always about how much time you have together, as much as it is that you are together for a shared moment.

Poppy summarized nicely what had just happened. He shared (and I’m paraphrasing)…

“Ya know, we could’ve spend two weeks trying to find a date that would work for all of us to have dinner together and then all of the energy figuring out what to cook, dietary restrictions, etc., and yet this just seemed like such an easier way — being spontaneous.”

Amen to that.

And what a blessing it is to be reminded of what wild fun it is to be truly spontaneous.

When’s the last time you seized a moment that would not have existed without an act of spontaneity?

Spontaneity is one of the best antidotes for Adultitis.

It cleanses you of the dust bunnies of your (sometimes boring) routine. Don’t get me wrong, I loves me a good ‘ol fashioned routine and I believe they are a key element in building a stable household for children; and yet, there’s a fine line between a routine and a rut. It’s something to be mindful of and these moments of embracing spontaneity really serve as a jump start towards that Adultitis-free lifestyle our childlike hearts long for.

So, amidst the busyness of the holiday season that we now find ourselves in, will you join me in keeping your mind and heart open to a spontaneous moment for connectedness with someone special?

There’s an adventure waiting to happen.

She’s unpredictable.

She’s crazy.

And she’s managed to obsess over me and Jason for the last two years, mimicking our day-to-day habits and traits. It’s starting to pick up in intensity. I feel like I am under constant surveillance. Some days, it feels suffocating.

Luckily, she’s adorable (and our daughter.) Ha!

Lucy manages to soak up my every word, tone and expression. It’s fun, but also a big responsibility. It’s scary to think she’s learning the ways of the world from silly ‘ol me. (This poor child!)

You don’t have to be a parent, teacher, or manager to influence someone else. The dirty little secret is that you are being watched at THIS VERY MOMENT. Unless you’re a hermit, people are watching you.

What are your actions teaching others?

Are you leaving them challenged? Or are your actions helping them rationalize their behaviors?

“I should really re-look at my schedule and make some changes to slow down. My neighbor Terry seems to have way more time to enjoy her family in the evenings. All I am doing is running from one place to the next. I would like to have relaxing evenings like Terry. If she can do it, I can too.”

[ versus ]

“Well, I don’t feel bad about watching 10 hours of TV each week because my co-worker Terry watches like 15-20 hours. I’m not as bad as her.”

Like it or not, YOU are influencing others. But don’t get freaked out. It’s actually a fun opportunity to use your powers for good. Let me give you an example.

I am LOVING the moments when I get to teach my little stalker (aka Lucy Ruth) about the greatest (and usually simplest) joys in life.

Like walking through crunchy leaves on a brisk fall afternoon.

The other day, as we strolled at a snail’s pace down the sidewalk for the bazillionth time, I happened to notice there were dried leaves lining the edges. Little crunchy moments of joy just waiting to happen. Lucy didn’t have a clue about the fun she was missing.

Sometimes you don’t know the fun you’re missing unless someone else shows you.

And as a mom, I am privileged to be that person on a regular basis. Sweet!

As the neighbor watching shared with us later, we spent 20 full minutes crunching in the leaves in front of his house. (And here I thought I was only showing Lucy, but see, I told ya someone is always watching!)

Crunch. Crackle. Crunch. Crackle. That noise is one of the single greatest sounds in the world, but nothing compared to the sounds that followed… Giggle. Screech. Giggle. Screech. Leaves will never be the same in the eyes of this little girl.

Mission accomplished.

You also have the privilege of showing those around the joy they are missing. Don’t tell them. Show them. And don’t tell them you are showing them. Just shut up and show them.

“What you do speaks so loudly that I cannot hear what you say.” –Ralph Waldo Emerson

What will YOU do today to show someone else the joy they are missing?

Jump in a puddle at the bus stop. Dance to your iPod on the train. Laugh out loud at a silly YouTube video. Bring cupcakes to your neighbors for no reason. Smile and look in the eyes of the loneliest person you know.

Joy.

It’s everywhere.

It just needs to be uncovered for those too busy to notice.

Embrace the joy. Embrace the reveal.

Remember, someone is always watching.

Being an entrepreneur has a lot of pros and cons.

Traditionally, there’s the financial risk, long hours, and relative lack of security. (Although the way things are these days, the last two apply to most non-entrepreneurial jobs as well.)

But one of my favorite benefits of all is the freedom.

A few months ago, Kim and I went to a movie. During the middle of the day. A friend of ours had some free time and offered to watch Lucy. So we decided to catch a matinee followed by dinner. We drove to the cineplex, got our tickets, and meandered into the theater. The previews had already started, but we had no trouble finding perfect seats right in the middle, about halfway up. We enjoyed the show, a classic summer blockbuster.

As we were walking out after the movie, we were shocked to see the line that had formed to get into the next showing at 7:10. It went on and on, like a 500-foot snake stretching all the way down the hall to the concession stand.

Kim and I were relieved we had come when we did; had we tried for the later show, we never would have thought to come early. Even if we did get tickets, we’d probably get stuck sitting right near the screen and I’d be making a chiropractor appointment instead of writing this post.

It occurred to me that our good fortune was a direct result of being entrepreneurs. The movie we went to started at 4:40 p.m., twenty minutes before most people get off work from their “normal” jobs.

I was thankful that we didn’t have a “normal” job.

A lot of the panic and pain from this recession we find ourselves in comes in waiting for the “normal” jobs that have been lost to return again. In the meantime, folks are becoming more discouraged, depressed, and cynical. The thing is, those “normal” jobs are not coming back. However, opportunities are all around us.

A bust in one industry leads to a boom in another.

In many ways, the Internet has leveled the playing field between the traditional giver of “normal” jobs and you. Besides the unprecedented access to information and ability to connect with anyone anywhere in the world, almost anything you’d ever need to start a business, including email, fax, telephone, videoconferencing, website hosting and design, business card printing, office productivity software, and publishing, manufacturing, and fulfillment services are now all either free or very, very cheap.

My youngest brother started an online business selling safety products and went from zero to profitable in the space of a year. (I know people who’ve been unemployed for longer than that!) But this was no get-rich quick scheme. He packaged his creative talents with the aforementioned free and cheap tools along with the knowledge of the industry he gained working a “normal” job, and is rolling along nicely.

He doesn’t have a “normal” job any more, but he has a bright future and a ton of freedom.

Even in a so-called bad economy.

If you happen to be someone who recently lost their “normal” job or is unhappy with the current state of their “normal” job, I want to encourage you. Maybe you’re not made for a “normal” job. Adjust your gaze. Instead of looking and hoping for a return of what was, look instead at what’s possible. Perhaps the best way to support your family, find fulfillment, and make a difference is not very “normal” at all.

There are a lot of perks for those who decide to be abnormal.

Some kids just can’t get themselves to do it. Mom or Dad have to jump in to help.

Others are pulling fools, yanking on anything with the smallest indication that it’s loose — anxious for a guaranteed pay-off the next morning.

Did you ever try the ‘ol “tie your tooth to the doorknob” trick? I never did, but always thought it was a pretty neat idea. Well, a boy (whose dad happened to own a video camera) recently took this idea to a whole new level. This is the 21st century doorknob tooth extraction technique. Hint: Rocket Man.

This family (and video) is awesome! Why NOT make something like tooth extraction more exciting? The rocket took his mind off of any pain involved. (And it took his tooth into the stratosphere.)

How can we apply this to our own lives?

Is there something you’re dreading, and you need a little extra push to get it accomplished? Can you add a zany twist so that the emphasis is more on the fun than on the reason you’re avoiding it? The possibilities are endless if you apply a little childlike creativity.

Let me know how you plan to apply this Rocket Man principle today.

Lucy and I experienced quite an amazing site the other night and I bet you’ll never guess where…

After all of the travels this kid has done so far (34 flights in 20 months), one of the coolest sights was found right in our local grocery store parking lot! (Isn’t that how life goes?!)

We walked out with our cart full of yummies to find a FULL rainbow right before our eyes. It spanned the entire sky. (I felt five!)

“WOOOWWW!” Lucy instantly proclaimed in her shaky toddler voice, pointing up at one of the coolest things I had ever seen in my 32 years. I found myself echoing her joy and awe. It was sure something! So big! So bright! And it’s so rare to see both ends. Upon closer inspection, there were actually two rainbows, the second one fainter but there in the shadow of the first.

Lucy had certainly labeled this right — “WOOOWWW!”

I pulled the cart off to the side and we enjoyed the beauty together — delighting in one another’s joy. We stuck around for probably five minutes just enjoying the show in the sky.

That five minutes taught me a lot about my fellow shoppers. We saw a few people who also enjoyed the rainbow by shooting pictures or leaning on their cars, just taking it in. Cool.

The large majority of people, however, were much too busy to stop. Adultitis was running rampant right there before my eyes. It made me sad AND mad. About 90% of the people we saw did not even acknowledge the rainbow AT ALL. They were coming out of the store, rushing to their cars, eager to get to the next thing. [Sidenote: There’s NO WAY you could’ve missed it, as it stretched across the entire sky of this wide open parking lot.]

I wanted so badly to approach one of these individuals and say….

“Hello?! Seriously?! It’s a full, double rainbow, for crying out loud! How many times in your lifetime have you seen this? Are you really THAT busy not to stop for even a second?”

What would they have said?

Somehow, with less than 24 months of life experience, Lucy knew instinctively that this rainbow was a BIG deal.

How quickly we let the busyness of life’s to-do list preoccupy our ability to delight in the beauty and wonder right here in our midst. The rainbow was an obvious one, but it begs an important question: what are you missing today?

Sign up to receive our free newsletter to get regular reminders and tips for stressing less and having more fun. Consider it a well-deserved jolt of happiness for your inbox.

These days, I enjoy when things are neat and orderly. But I’ve been gaining a new appreciation for messes. (I am sure that this in no way has anything to do with me having a 20-month-old.)

Alas, a theme is afoot. Kim recently wrote a cool post about messes, following one I wrote about how messes are tied to curiosity. Then I came across this awesome video by Zach Daulton. [Hat tip to Josh Crocker]

Be sure to watch it. It’s cute, clever, and very, very wise.

Meanwhile, I’m feeling the sudden need to keep a closer eye on Lucy and make sure my Play-Doh is in a safe place…

It was upsetting to witness.

We were walking along the always interesting State Street, Madison’s hot spot for fun and folly. This woman in her mid-20s was on her cell phone and it was obvious that she had just received news that would change her life. She stood there devastated, crying and hiding her face from the crowded street, shuddering into her boyfriend’s arms. I couldn’t help but wonder. What happened?

Did her mom die? Was her best friend in a terrible accident? Did she just find out she has a life-threatening illness? What?

Whatever it was — it was big.

I was immediately unsettled.

Less than 30 seconds after seeing her, we walked by a guy who had a shirt on that said “live life.”

There — in those two simple words — was the instant answer to my feelings of helplessness and sadness.

Everyone gets at least one of those phone calls in their lifetime. It’s just part of life. You can’t dwell on if or when or what the call will reveal.

All you can do is LIVE LIFE.

The challenge is to do it as well as you can, while you can.

Most people I run into seemed bored with their life. The status quo for a “happy life” these days is pretty watered down, pretty blah. Once you get your demanding (and often life-sucking) career, the 2.5 kids, the dog, the house with the white picket fence, two nice cars, yadda yadda… you should officially find happiness (as if it arrives in a FedEx box upon completion of such requirements.) But does this magic formula for happiness really work? If so, why are so many people so darn bored, seeking fleeting moments of happiness in trivial things?

“Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all.”
— Helen Keller

Hate to say it, Helen, but I think too many people would categorize their lives as “nothing at all.”

In the words of my favorite celebrity chef, Gordon Ramsey, “What a SHAME!” (In an English accent, of course.)

Is YOUR life a daring adventure?

If not, I have to tell you that you are setting yourself up for a major case of the DBRs (death bed regrets). DBRs are in many cases worse than Adultitis because there is very little you can do about it. At least in identifying Adultitis, you can usually start turning things around immediately, but at the end of your life, time is your biggest enemy. DBR’s do not afford you the time to do much of anything, except wonder, “What if?”

One of the major goals in our company is to help people get to the end of their lives with as few “I wish I woulda’s” as possible.

I wish I woulda…

• learned to play an instrument.
• traveled outside of the country.
• earned a college degree.
• volunteered for that important charity.
• went sky diving.
• gotten my pilot’s license.
• learned a foreign language.
• gone to the Super Bowl.
• run the Boston Marathon.
• adopted a child.

You need to muster up the courage (moxie, guts, faith, matzah balls — whatever) to turn that “what if” into an opportunity — a new daring adventure.

What’s stopping you?

I believe that deep down, under the layers of fear and uncertainty, a childlike spirit is inside of you just DYING for a little adventure, for the chance to show your spunk. I GUARANTEE you that you were NOT a boring child!

If you let that child come out to play, what would he/she beg you to do first? (“Pretty please, please, please!!!”)

I once heard a story about an elderly woman who was encouraged to go back to college. It was something she’d always wanted to do, but concerned about her advanced age, she exclaimed, “Do you know how old I’ll be when I graduate?”

“Yes,” said her wise friend. “The same age you’d be if you don’t.”

If your heart is still ticking, you’re here for a reason. Don’t waste that adventurous childlike spirit on a boring life.

At the end of the Curious George movie that came out a few years back, the “Man With the Yellow Hat” said to George, “You don’t need to go around the world to have a great adventure. YOU brought adventure to my life and now that’s all that matters.”

Travel within yourself to find your adventure.

And go for it. Leave the “I wish I woulda’s” for someone else.

George and I will be cheering you on!

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I hear a lot about how China is going to take over the world. That the days of America as world superpower are almost over.

China certainly has some good things going for it, but it also has its share of challenges, like the caring and feeding of a population of 1.3 billion people, staggering air and water pollution, and oh yeah, the whole communism thing.

I’d submit that their biggest obstacle of all is their Adultitis-ridden viewpoint on fun. In watching the coverage of the 2008 Olympic Games in Beijing, I got the impression that they take themselves WAY too seriously. And consider this account from my wonderfully outspoken friend Scott:

So, I heard this report on NPR about Chinese students and how hard they work at getting smart and taking classes and studying, etc.

They interviewed the mother of one of these poor, over-achieving, communist punks about how the kids study all the time and never “play” with other kids because they’re so busy all the time.

And I swear to God, the mother said, in English:

“We feel that fun is not very important.”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

So instead, I just threw up in my mouth.

Indeed.

I’ve taken photos of plaques that hang prominently at the National Museum of Play (bet China doesn’t have one of those!). They feature quotes that disagree quite strongly with this well-intentioned mother:

Here’s the deal: fun comes from play, and play fosters curiosity, and curiosity leads to the sort of innovations and revolutionary thinking that made America great in the first place.

Don’t get me wrong, there are a fair share of adults in America who frown on fun and are hell bent on ruining everything. Fortunately, they are in the vast minority. But a culture with a big segment of the population that believe fun is not important?

Good luck with that, China.

This week, Jason, Lucy and I attended the wake of a friend of ours who lived just 13 years. Just by hearing that you may say, “How tragic,” but I would say back to you that actually, Jesse lived morein his 13 years than most people live in 85. Being diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes when he was three, he approached his childhood with an attitude of appreciation for life and persistence that he could (and would) be able to do all of the same things a kid without the disease could do.

Our lives crossed paths at the start of his elementary years and by this point he had acquired quite the resume of advocacy, raising both money and awareness for Juvenile Diabetes. His work advocating for the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation (JDRF) led him to Washington, D.C. to speak before Congress and he was even honored by Wisconsin Governor Doyle during a State of the State Address. He inspired a snowboarding camp for other kids with Type 1 diabetes – being a real life example that kids with diabetes can do anything that anyone else can do, they just have to manage it a little better.

Jesse touched countless people with his vibrant personality and his ability to connect with anyone. Jesse was an awesome kid and he lived his 13 years to the fullest.

In reflecting on his passing this week, I am faced with the question:

If I only had 13 years of my life left, would I live it as richly as Jesse did? Would my life leave the kind of mark his did?

It’s almost easier to think about what you would do with the cliche “6 months left to live.” Simple. You’d drop everything and be with those you love. You’d take that trip to the Great Wall of China. You’d jump out of the plane or go rafting in the Grand Canyon. You’d have the permission you need to truly say what you want to say.

It’s so cliche to say we should live as if each day is our last. But is this really possible without the bad news from the doctor? There are just too many things you HAVE to do that you certainly would NOT do, if indeed this was your last day here. It’s not a realistic challenge.

But what about 13 years?

With 13 years left, you still have to be financially responsible and maintain the day-to-day of your life (bills, work, relationships, civic responsibilities, chores, etc.), like you do right now.

But what WOULD you change?

Anything?

Would you look for a different way to spend your 9-5 or 5-9? Would you watch less TV? Would you be more generous with your talents? Would you say “I love you” more or “I’m sorry.” Would you make more memories? Would you write that book? Maybe you’d actually make some progress on the ‘ol Bucket List, instead of waiting until the timing is “right.”

Jesse’s brief but abundantly rich journey here inspires me to live like I’ve only been given 13 more years. It’s time I became more bold about the things that I’m most passionate about. So I start here with giving you (and myself) this challenge: get off your couch and do something to make a memory with someone you love TODAY.

The following quote in his obituary really sums it all up nicely…

“It’s better to burn out than to fade away.”

Godspeed Jesse!

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What do you think about this month’s show? What’s your word for the year? What was the best Happy Meal toy you ever got? We’d love to hear from you! Leave a comment below or in the video itself by clicking the little plus sign in the player. Got photos or videos? Send ’em to eashow@kimandjason.com

Linkety Links

• What’s Your Word for 2010?
• Pick up your own copy of The Escape Plan. Banish Adultitis with this amazingly fun 40-Day Guide!

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Share Your Thoughts…
What do you think about this week’s show? What was your best tip for decluttering Christmas? We’d love to hear from you! Leave a comment below or in the video itself by clicking the little plus sign in the player. Got photos or videos? Send ’em to eashow@kimandjason.com
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Linkety Links

• Pick up your own copy of There’s An Adult in My Soup. It’s Lucy approved and it makes a great gift, too!
• Jason’s recent post: A Quick Thought on Toys

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Today was a snow day. Over a foot of snow. Blizzard conditions. The governor declared a state of emergency and authorities urged people to stay off the roads if at all possible.

Since Kim and I both work from home, we were able to stay in and decided to take most of the day off. Sure, we have a lot of stuff on our to-do lists, but days like this don’t come around all that often. You have to take advantage of them when they come.

But I must confess: I did partake in my share of inner grumbling as I struggled to shovel the driveway and sidewalk. (Ah the joys of home ownership!) The snow was wet and heavy, and my back still aches as I write this.

But then I thought of all the people who HAD to be out there today. The police officers. The ambulance drivers. The snow plow operators. They’re out there, away from their families, keeping us safe. Before long, my thoughts turned to the men and women in the armed forces. The ones overseas, thousands of miles away from home, who’d probably give anything to shovel their driveway, knowing that the smiling faces of their children and cup of hot chocolate awaited them inside.

I always assure the audience at the beginning of my speaking programs that I’m not there to teach them anything new. My job is to remind them of the things they already know. It’s easy to get caught up in the daily hustle, losing track about what’s really important and grumbling about trivial stuff. Sometimes we all need reminders to get us back on track.

This video was my reminder today. It’s a few years old, but it made me cry like a school girl. I bet it will do the same for you.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kpohfny7jWg

Watching this video reminded me of just how lucky I am to be able to shovel my driveway and then walk inside and have lunch with my two favorite girls in the world. Very lucky, indeed.

To all the service men and women out there, especially the ones who won’t be able to make it home this Christmas. Thank you.

Thank you so much.

You’re some kind of awesome. I doubt I’ll ever be as brave or dedicated or heroic as you.

Happy Holidays. Come home safe, ok?

All the loud, spinning, whizzing, battery-operated, brightly colored, one trick pony plastic crap.

And the stuff that gets saved and passed down?

The classic, high quality handmade stuff made from natural materials like wood and fabric. Well-constructed doll houses. Sturdy, smooth, hand-stained block sets. Super soft teddy bears.

Of course, all the flyers jammed in our newspapers and mailboxes are showcasing the first group as the hot new toys of the season. Those are the ones touted on the TV commercials. The ones that parents get into fistfights over when inventory has dwindled.

And the first ones to be priced under fifty cents at some future garage sale.

So why do we insist on buying the plastic crap? Is it because we’re too cheap to buy something really nice? Or that we don’t want our kids shunned for not having the newest fads? Or do we believe that more stuff really is better? Perhaps we’ve simply been snookered by the Big Toy marketing machine? I’d love to hear your thoughts on this one.

It seems to me that we should’ve gotten a clue when our kids end up spending more time playing with the cardboard box.

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