Lots has changed in my life in the last few months, though I’ll save my personal update and whereabouts for another blog entry. But as a result it’s put me majorly behind my writing eight-ball. Because I’ve been traveling all day and the night is still young w/ lots to do, yet I’m not going to bed tonight until I get a post uploaded to break my streak, I’m going to post a rather simple one from the weekend.

So Saturday I’m at the Farmers Market in Oly with Erica, it’s a cool kitschy place to go and spend a cold and damp summer morning (ahhhhh, the late summer starts in the NW!) and one of my favorites is to sit outside and listen to some fold band while eating “The Skillet” from Dingy’s along the food market portion (BTW, have them ease up on the meats, load it up w/ veggies, a little light on the cheese–and the thing is amazing!) of the Farmers Market.

Anyways, I’m walking along and I see a guy in the distance standing freely, wearing a Fedora-style hat and a white guitar case by his side. And literally I watch waves of people walk by him, and it’s almost as if there’s a vector that as people are getting closer to him they speed up and walk by much more briskly than they approached him. I was really intrigued as I sat and watched this from 150 feet away, but determined to check it out.

So as I slowly walked towards him, trying to listen to what he was saying to passerby’s, I finally made out the dialogue, which went like this:

Fedora-wearing man: “Do you like Poetry?”

Passerby: No. (whilst proceeding to bundle their small children and walk every more quickly)

This happened maybe ten times as I was watching, and I couldn’t help but chuckle–I was intrigued. But Fedora-man remained unfazed. Completely, unabashedly, and unflappably unfazed.

Then, every approximately 5th to 7th passerby the convo went like this:

Fedora-wearing man: “Do you like Poetry?”

Passerby: Yeah.

Fedora-wearing man: “May I read you a poem I wrote?”

Passerby: No.  (proceeding to walk much more quickly)

Still unfazed, he kept going. So then about every 4th person that answered the affirmative to the question about liking poetry (if you’re keeping track, that’s about every 20-28 no’s) someone would stop and say yes, he could read to them. And he did.

So at first I really thought this bizarre. And maybe it is. I sure as heck didn’t answer the question “Yeah” when he posed to me. But then I started thinking about Juan Mann, I did a post about him a while back that you can read here. But, as I thought about it, I was intrigued. Here’s a guy that loves poetry. Apparently he likes people. And he must even not have too great an aversion to hearing the word “No” repeatedly. Like every minute. Great salesman material. But what he loved was what he was doing.

So, there it is. A quick tribute to:

a) Fedora-wearing-poetry-guy-at-the-Olympia-Farmers-Market.

b) Being able to hear no and keep on keepin’ on.

c) And following your purpose and passion. However oddly structured to guys like me that may seem.

P.S. And on a very serious note–a belated thanks to all those who have or currently serve this Country to protect our freedom and liberty. I have such reverence for those who have provided our Country, and people like me and my family, such faithful service. I am deeply indebted.

The reason I write in my blog is to connect with people. Not just from one segment of life, but from many. Usually the focus revolves around finding your purpose, passion, and renewal.

And as part of the thread of stories I try to share experiences and observations in leadership, volunteerism, wellness, as well as some events that are simply personal experiences that fall in none of those particular categories and, might, at times, be more personal.

Today’s entry is one of those. So if the personal aspect is too much, please skip this one today. The first entry that I made a year ago was here: Happy 4th Birthday Buddy.

Here’s today’s entry…

Dear Levi,

Today marks what would have been your 5th birthday.

This year I’m home instead of on the road, and lots has changed in our life–some for the better, and other parts not so much. But we’ve learned a lot, and we’ve grown a lot. God has been really gracious with us, and me, more than I deserve I am sure.

Royce is getting to be such a great soccer player, and has become so exceptionally good at reading. At night she reads to Zoe, sometimes “illegally.” She has a little flashlight that she pulls out after we’ve turned the lights off and I often catch her continuing to read into the evening. Mom makes her stop (as she probably should) but the truth is I sneak in and give her a little thumbs up when I catch her reading and tell her it’s okay. She has such a heart for people, and an exceptional ability to communicate with others. And she’s intense, in a high-achiever way. Perhaps sometimes too intense (that’s probably from my DNA). I admire and love her passion and enthusiasm for life.

Zoe is amazing as well in her own unique way as well, she has such a compassionate heart. And is so incredibly creative. You should see (or maybe you did?) the latest “dog feeder” invention that she made out of who-knows-what materials–I can’t believe what she thinks up! I love it, every day it seems there’s a new contraption for me to scope out. Her ability to develop deep relationships and comprehend complex information is pretty amazing too. She processes so quickly, I love her ability to think thoughtfully and deeply for such a young kid.

I’m so proud of both of them, and so is Mom. And today I know we would be equally proud of you as well. I wish I knew your attributes that I could brag about, someday I’ll find out what those are specifically. I’m sure there would have been, or are, lots.

We talked about you a great deal this week, and more than ever, we miss you.

Yesterday and today, especially.

You might not know it, but Royce and Zoe each have their own “baby song”, which kind of represents them as a kid. This whole thing started with Royce, when she was in the hospital NICU as a preemie and we didn’t know whether she would live–or if she did the kind of life she would have. At many points the outlook was grave. During our daily drive to Morristown Hospital, Mom and I often would hear the song by Marvin Gaye (probably one of my favorite artists) “Aint No Mountain High Enough”, which came to symbolize our confidence and belief that everything would be okay with Royce.

Of course, we still play that song and think about those days. So, naturally, about a year ago Zoe wanted her own “baby” song that represented her! We chose, with a strong bias from Zoe, “I’ve Got a Feeling” by Black Eyed Peas!!! LOL. I think that’s hilarious. You can listen to the song, I think the lyrics are fine, but don’t watch the YouTube video–it’s a little too racy. Especially for up in Heaven. That could be awkward.

So you’re the last one without a song, and yesterday I thought we should pick a song for you on your 5th birthday. I wish you were here to help select it, but I think you’ll dig it. Unanimously we picked “I Can Only Imagine” by Mercy Me. Your mom thought of it first, I can’t tell you how much she misses you. It’s beyond words.

Some people have told us that every year this would get easier. And while time helps heal some things, it doesn’t seem true as it relates to missing you. Every year represents another year without you, and we’re both comforted and saddened as the years go by.

This evening the girls made little cupcakes for you, RoZo decorated yours–it’s the one in the middle, with all the balloon candles. And we went to play laser tag–we’ve never done it before, but the kids thought it would be something you would enjoy doing so they picked it instead of going to some princess movie, which I don’t think you would have liked as well.

There’s one project that I was supposed to do for you several years ago. It’s been on my mind, and I know I’ve been negligent in finishing it and I’m really sorry about it. This is the year. I have to do it, and I want to make a commitment to you that I’ll get it done.

Tonight, as I wrote a year ago, I hope that this message gets to you somehow and in some way. I think it will. Know that we love you so deeply, and we’re so glad that we even had you for a few hours. I wish it had been many years, but the hours and memories that have ensued are better than never having the gift of you in our lives.

Levi, here’s your “baby song.” I hope you enjoy it. Whenever we hear it we’ll think of you.

I love you buddy, no matter what.

Find your passion.

Watch this guy, Jake Shimabukuro, play the Uke and ask yourself if this guy isn’t just amazingly passionate about what he does? With 50-years of training, I couldn’t do what he just did on this YouTube video.

But, the point is that he couldn’t do what YOU’RE supposed to be doing when you’re connected with your passion and purpose.

So he found his, and as a result can do some pretty amazing stuff.

Have you found yours?

Okay, that opening title is a bit dramatic.

First, as my wife reminds the kids–and me–we don’t HATE anything.

Second, even if I DID hate something, I don’t REALLY hate museums.

At least not all of them, just certain kinds.

But what was valuable is that I learned something this week about myself. And, Pascal would be so proud of me right now, because you know, the whole “to know oneself” line of thinking was so important to him.

And, really it is to us if we’re to find our purpose in life, to pursue it with a relentless passion, to be living in your destiny (or working towards it), you gotta know yourself. What you like. What you don’t. Where you’re good. Where you’re not. Why you’re doing what you are, and what you should quit doing as well.

This week I made a decision.

I’m not going to any more museums having to do with crafts, ceramics, or archeology. Period. At least not on my own accord.

I am sick of trying to find these things interesting, just because other people do or this is something culturally that is “smart” of me to do (and I am convinced that 50% of them are also faking it, like me, but just doing a better job). I really don’t care whether, Mr. Curator, there exist 2,000 little clay cups in your museum, that perhaps there was a ceremonial cleansing cup that forged together two Continents. In fact, it’s highly irrelevant to me whether they came from Costco twenty minutes ago or a big dig that resulted in a revelation dating back tens of thousands of years. And finally, Mr. Curator, if you give me one of those defibrillator-looking digital “walkman” player to hang from my neck, that is probably riddled with head lice from the 10,000 other people who have worn it proceeding me, it still doesn’t make me more interested. In fact, I think it hurts the cause. Because now I feel obligated to hear the five minute history lesson about the clay pot that I already had seen too much of when I walked briskly by.

I’m just…not…interested.

And, this week, officially I decided, that I will quit trying to be interested. Here’s the point of the story:

We’ve got to find the undercurrent of what gets your hot buttons. Too many of us go through life trying to do what we’re supposed to do because someone else thinks we should do it because someone told them it’s important. And, really, maybe it doesn’t mean snap to you or me.

Now, before someone thinks this is a good excuse to exercise out of discipline, learning, developing a well rounded personality, and on don’t misunderstand. I love space and science museums, I’m fascinated by some art museums. I love reading. I love language and culture and discussing deep subjects with people. I have even been known to love Readers Digest (big print version only, it just seems more appropos). No, my kids won’t get out that easy either. We will still continue family field trips, they will still learn about things they might not care much about, I will also force them someday soon to have Wall Street Journal article reviews on Friday nights as I had growing up. But I have decided, at least for me, at the magical age of 36, it is okay to decide to quit pretending or to try to force yourself to like something you really don’t and never did.

So this week, that’s what I learned about myself.

Which, upon reflection, is both silly and profound to me. Silly, because it’s simple and somewhat the humorous example (part of it has to do w/ the fact that I didn’t last 15-minutes in a museum that was to take me 3-hours one evening to fully explore). Profound for me, though, because it made me really consider that we can spend our lives trying to do things that we don’t love, or weren’t meant to do, and we’re living in our own personal prisons that have been created by perception of what’s important or intellectually trying to chase the proverbial Joneses (whose ubiquitous family, I would challenge, to a Raz Family Wall Street Journal Review contest any day of the week).

Today my message is as simple as an “I hate museums” shout-out to all those across the World (please, once again, no flaming emails; I’m not using the expression in a pejorative way, rather I’m stating it in this kind of wittingly clever sarcastic manner–and in no way do I intend to discriminate or discourage those who love museums of crafts and artifacts, let’s just not sit together at the next dinner party) to discard the pursuits that aren’t of interest to you, that suck energy out of your life without providing a tangible and disciplined return to you in some way, and to bypass the things that’s keeping you from unlocking the excitement and energy that rests within you to pursue something with rigor and passion that either serves you, serves someone else, or serves your purpose.

It doesn’t mean that we should love everything that we do, a good part of finding your purpose and passion involves the discipline of education, investment, time, energy, exercise, whatever. Just make sure there’s a reason for doing it, other than because someone else thinks you should.

Purpose, a feeling of belonging, “doing what you’re destined to be doing.”

It’s interesting in that, the current economic environment, while making I expect all of us more content with the blessings we have, has also prompted a question about the meaning and purpose behind what we’re doing.

Is it meaningful? Making an impact? Of value? Contributing to a greater good?

This article is a great reminder of the feeling that WE ALL have about the importance of belonging to something. And, that something, is another reason why I love this industry. It’s not the only way to make an impact, but it is an amazing way to contribute. Perhaps a little unconventional? Yeah. Often misunderstood? Definitely. But totally aligned to drive the destiny of some to greater heights? Unquestionably.

Find something you love, find a place you can make an impact, and as the Nike guys say: “just do it.”

Click here to read the full story.

Recently I took a trip to Sonoma, California, one of my favorite places to visit–and even more so when my wife is with me. 

So in touring lots of wineries there’s a lot more than “does the wine taste good?” It includes the atmosphere, the staff, the process they use, their focus, and a lot of it really has to do with their heart and passion for the winery.

For example, I don’t particularly enjoy going into the big commercial wineries where they don’t really have a knowledge or passion for the products. Even if the vineyards are gorgeous, the tasting room decadent, and even the wines excellent, it’s just not my thing. 

What is my thing, however, is to find someone and someplace with a story that led them down a path to where they are today. A unique and unassuming journey, a level of humility and unexpectedness to their ultimate destination, an ease of authenticity and the absence of traditional norms in the business combined with a calm confidence in what they’re doing–and ultimately a passion they’re following.

At the end of our trip, we found exactly that place with Loxton Cellars and the owner, Chris Loxton. http://www.loxtonwines.com/

Here he is, an Aussie by birth and third generation of grape growers from his native land. But, instead of following the family footsteps he pursues a PhD in Physics, even ends up teaching at the University of Illinois for eight years. Finally, however, he followed his heart to become a winemaker, which he told me he always knew he would ultimately do, and as a result moved to the Sonoma region. Eight years ago he started making his own wine under his unique label. 

When we were there he gave us a private tour, and Chris told the story of his familial generations of grape growing, and his being the first of his generations past of actual wine making (vs. grape growing).

He showed me the way to care for vines and how he learned from both observation and “listening” how to generate the greatest yield and extract the best flavor from the grapes. He demonstrated the harvesting and winemaking equipment and explained the aging process, and types of casks and barrels used for his grapes and how to generate the right flavor tonalities. Chris was clear that his focus was really tight, just two primary styles of grapes and with the objective to simply produce a premium brand that has high value and exceptional taste. It needn’t be widely distributed or highly acclaimed by Robert Parker wine reviews. Instead, it was to be his best, and to follow his hearts passion (and, indeed, it is exceptionally amazing). 

From that experience, what’d I learn?

The fact of the matter is I can’t remember many of the details. Like about the watering, pruning–how and where and when–the harvesting process and how to deal with land gradients and slope with differing soil conditions; about all I can remember is that it’s important to do all those things. In some particular order. 

What I really learned is a lesson in the story of passion and following your heart, taking a risk, and jumping in.

Quite simply, here’s a guy who had a dream, he took the steps to pursue it, he faced his fears in the process of starting any new business venture, and he “just did it.” And while he’s doing well, it’s also not like he’s on easy street. With any business traditional business venture it can be YEARS before you start to even break even (BTW, reason number 72 why Direct Selling is an amazing business opportunity in the right company–low start up costs and an immediately recoverable investment w/ an ability to generate PROFITS right away).

Yet, despite all of the challenges in trying to run a difficult and captial-intensive business, I can tell Chris is happy. In fact, I think he’s having the time of his life, and is following his dream, and a part of his life’s purpose. In doing this, he’s not just making great wine, but he’s touching people like me who see and hear his story and within it sparks a fire of inspiration–and perhaps through a simple story like this through others as well. 

Which leads me to the lesson learned from the Physicist in Sonoma:

Whatever it is, really, whatever it is, find your purpose and passion. Then pursue it. 

Draw down into what really sets you on fire. And then just do it. Pursue it with vigor, with almost a reckless-abandon (but not recklessly, there’s a difference). Push through obstacles and seeds of self doubt or the hallowing cries of critics who have given into the abandonment of their own hopes and dreams and have nothing other to do than stand as an impediment to yours. Remember why you’re doing it, draw deep in your burning fire, and make it happen. Take the chance. And, regardless the outcome, I don’t think you’ll regret it. 

When Chris and I were finishing our time together, I asked him “Was it worth it? Are you glad you made such a switch, from University Physicist to local winemaker?”

His response was telling, he smiled and said to me with a look of consideration “You know, there are days when I’m struggling and people would probably look at my former job at the University of Illiniois with such favor, you know huge grants, get to travel the world, great house in low cost of living, distinguished position of influence…By most standards, very successful and well to do. Then people might look at my situation today and see a bad trade, radically different, making things work even when it’s financially tight at times, driving an old truck around a vineyard, long hours and always a project on the farm or winemaking facilities, tending vineyards and answering the phone and taking out the trash–a bit of everything. So, on the surface, it might look like it wasn’t the greatest exchange. But, I’m my own man, I control my freedom. I get to work with amazing people, and the things that I do endlessly fascinate me. I love meeting new people and talking to them, hearing about their background and learning about and from them; I’m invigorated by the ability to pursue high quality work with a focus and passion, and I live in one of the most beautiful parts of the world. So, was it a good trade? I wouldn’t change it for a minute; by some standards it was a crazy trade, but by mine I’m living the life I was supposed to live.” 

Which leaves me to the question I wonder myself, which is will I live mine? And will you live yours? 

When you do a Google search for images related to the word “purpose” I don’t understand why the results pull up esoteric whispy trees in the middle of green fields, or that of a person paddling a canoe in the reflective moonlight in the middle of a widespread ocean with nary a sign of life in sight (and, really, should someone be in a canoe that far offshore?).

Yet, it seems these are the images that conjure up purpose–so the one above represents the prototypical “Successory-style” purposeful image; what that image actually means I have no idea, but it’s a placeholder for an article in this blog posting that actually is pretty insightful. 

The below article from HealthDay News was a great reminder about the importance of a holisitic view on life–and that your longevity isn’t just dependent upon the foods you eat and the way you treat your body–but, also, the way in which you focus your energy and life’s work:

Your purpose. 

Victor Frankl wrote about this at length in “Man’s Search for Meaning” based on his observations of life during prison camp–and the life altering, and defeating, result that occurred when you took away a part of a humans destination and, ultimately, meaning. 

So here’s an interesting study that highlights for those who rank higher on identifying a purpose also enjoyed a longer life. Most would agree that regardless of the years it can add to your life, having purpose will make the years on earth all the richer–but it’s all the more interesting if there’s a benefit in longevity as well. 

Click here to read the full story.