LIFE BONFIRE: Sharing the Experience from Another Perspective

This might be the most narcissistic realization. Of. My. Life.

I waited until this post – my swan song on “Fire and Motion” – to allow someone else write and/or share on my blog. How egotistical and self-centered am I?

For the last four years – 162 blog posts – I have been the lone contributor to this hedonistic purging of words, thoughts, ideas and bullsh. It’s so disappointing and gross to think about.

What was possibly going through my head? “I have the laptop and you’ll listen to every damn word I say?”

Well, the vanity stops here...

Even though this is my final post on “Fire and Motion,” I’ve asked three other people to write it. These three people (right) were an integral part my “Life Bonfire,” and I begged them to share their thoughts and feelings about that night. They obliged.

The reason why I’m kicking myself about not having a “guest blogger” before this – these accounts are AWESOME! TK and our friends, Dave and Kimbra, do an amazing job of capturing the essence of that night around the fire. I love how each one of them describes the exact same event in their own wonderfully great way.

I can’t stress enough how grateful I am to each one of them for playing a role in this amazing journey.

Sure, we were burning my “crap,” but that was just the catalyst. Kimbra put it best in her narrative: “...it was as if the embers landed between us and sparked conversations that could not have been created any other way.”

– – –

You’ve Got to Keep the Fire Burning
by Tanya Myers (a.k.a. TK)

Even though Drew had written blog posts, and often mentioned his "burn box,” I did not realize how heavily it had weighed on him until the fire was roaring and the first conversation started. I saw a seriousness come over Drew as he began to take things out of the box and put them in the fire.

One of first things that he pulled out of the box were the many, many brochures from his failed business (e-Partners in Giving). There was real sadness in me as he set them on the fire. The words in my head were frantic...

”Wait, that dream can't be over...not yet!”

“We can give it one more shot!”

I began to tear up a little as Drew kept adding more brochures to the fire. The flames even started to fizzle out, because the brochures were literally smothering the fire.

As I started to write this recap, I realized those brochures were smothering us too.

The many boxes that sat at the back of the garage whispered to us every time we were in there: “psst...failed business...psst...broken dreams.”

As Dave and I worked really hard to keep the fire going, Drew – ever the coach –told us how to do it....how to keep it burning. And that is really a metaphor for life. We have to get rid of the crap to keep the fire burning. And sometimes we need the help of friends and family to keep it alive.

Now I can walk in the garage and listen to other things that speak to me: upholstery projects to be finished, bikes that need riding, things to be donated or pitched. (Trust me, my garage is not somewhere you want to enter in the dark – or the daylight for that matter.)

For me, the best part of the evening was the conversation and being with dear friends. Someone would make a point, and then the others would think about it and apply it to their own lives. There were many moments of peaceful silence as we all contemplated our emotions and took a deeper look at what we were hanging onto and why. We were able to just sit and think about life, instead of being too busy living it.

The memories of this evening will stay with me for a while, and if not, we took a few photos...something to hold onto so we won't forget. (Of course!)

– – –

Looking At the Fire From the Ashes
by Dave Quinn

Drew’s “Life Bonfire” proved to be much more intriguing than I thought it would be. I really figured I would just be there to cheer him on and enjoy a free weekend on the Brazos River with my family. But as we prepared for the bonfire, I felt myself slipping into a ruminating state. The simple act of talking about our pasts allowed my memories from long ago to crawl out into the open.

As Drew began to toss various items into the fire, and our discussion began in earnest, I was struck by an interesting thought: Just seven months ago, I had witnessed thousands of people lose everything they owned in a devastating fire. Here, Drew was freely tossing his past into the flames. He had a chance to carefully select, say goodbye and come to grips with letting go of his stuff.

Those who lose their belongings in a disaster are not given this kind of opportunity – to pick and choose between mementos to save and crap to get rid of.

I know ceremoniously tossing my “precious keepsakes” into a bonfire is a better option, because having them taken by a natural disaster would be a depraved act of thievery. But how many people spend a lifetime boxing up and storing random items from their past? (Only to have their children or grandchildren sort through it at the worst possible time in their lives.) People, who are unwilling to let go of their life “road-markers,” force their family to make decisions they’re too afraid or too lazy to make themselves.

While I would never suggest losing everything in a fire is a great way to reduce clutter, having everything you think is important ripped from you does force you to refocus on the truly important things in your life – family and friends. I appreciate Drew allowing us to be a part of his interesting adventure. I look forward to bonfire part deux. My box of "to burn'” is already beginning.

– – –

Getting Down to Heart of the Matter
by Kimbra Quinn

As we gathered around the fire to say goodbye to Drew’s treasures, I felt like we should sing a round of “Deep in the Heart of Texas.”

It was the perfect Texas night – an incredible night sky, the Brazos River meandering its way through the countryside and century old oak trees, with twisted branches, that left plenty of room for the stories that they had witnessed. The perfect setting only served as the backdrop for the true perfection of the night.

As Drew tossed each of his prized processions into the fire, it was as if the embers landed between us and sparked conversations that could not have been created any other way. We talked about the moments in life that have brought us to this point. We talked about past loves, life events, hopes and dreams. We talked about life’s experiences, our thoughts and feelings. We talked about the people.

Somehow, Drew’s bonfire harnessed our collective pasts and gave us a moment in time. It branded the experience and our friendship forever in my heart. I guess I could have scooped up some of the ashes as a reminder, but that would have been contrary to the point, right? After all, the ashes would not have told my children how blessed I felt to share in Drew’s history, his life. That will be up to me to do as I teach them the importance creating memories and sharing our lives with others.

That night, I thought about my treasures, and I thought about the things that I have gotten rid of over the years – like the boxes of home decorating magazines from days of wanting to be an interior designer. I thought about the cigar box of full of letters from my high school boyfriend and binder after binder of research papers from graduate school. All part of my story, but not necessary to have in my hand to remember how they changed my life.

I am the sum of those experiences. Therefore, when I am no longer on this earth, my hopes, dreams, values, morals, and my very being will live on through my children and those I love because I have invested in their lives. They won’t need a token to remember how I made them feel.

I can’t wait to have a “Life Bonfire!” I think it will be liberating. (A little like what I imagine burning a bra might feel like!) It will be more than burning things, but creating an opportunity for others to share in my life. It will create an experience that seals the meaning of friendship into our soul. And, so much more fun than throwing things in the trash!

Thanks, Drew! I am honored to have been a part of your life bonfire not only from “Deep in the Heart of Texas,” but also from way down deep in my heart!

– – –

EDITOR’S NOTE: As mentioned above, this is the last blog post on “Fire and Motion.” It’s time to start Defining Audacity.

Thanks for all your support to this point of my “blogging career” – I appreciate you reading my blog more than you’ll ever know. (Feel free to check out definingaudacity.com NOW – just realize there is no fresh content and still a little construction going on until April 2.)

'Treasures' Stoke Fire, Night to Remember

I did it – I burned my “treasures.”

Expired driver’s licenses...gone.

Newspaper articles with my byline...gone.

My high school diploma...gone.

Sitting around a fire pit – under a blanket of the brightest Texas stars that I can remember– I created one of the most profound memories of my life. It was one of those once-in-a-lifetime moments – filled with so much emotion, reflection and hope.

Reminder: I came up with this “Life Bonfire” to simply purge some of the personal “crap” that I felt compelled to hold on to all these years.

I NEVER dreamt it would turn into such an amazing journey. It was so extraordinary, I almost don’t know where to start.

How about the beginning? Makes sense, right?

Last Friday, I loaded up a box of my keepsakes and headed out to my parents’ house. They live in the country, and I thought it would be the perfect backdrop for this personal exploration. I also invited a couple close friends to be part of the adventure.

After dinner, and the kids were tucked into bed, we poured some adult beverages, put on some Texas Country Music and lit the fire. It was not an A&M-inspired inferno, just an above-average campfire. (“Bonfire” was definitely a stretch.) I lit a cigar and started to stoke the blaze with my memories.

– – –

If I had to describe how I felt before my “Life Bonfire,” I would say anxiety outweighed all the other emotions.

If I had to describe my emotions as I started to toss things into the flames: Reflective and alive.

If I had to describe my state of mind afterwards: At peace and inspired. (Not to mention intoxicated – the Jameson really helped me battle the sentimental hoarder who lives inside me.)

The best part of the evening was the conversations sparked by the fire (pun intended). The wonderfully great part was the fact that the dialogue was NOT all about me and my “crap.” I’d throw something in the fire, and someone would share about a particular moment in his or her life, tell a story about a similar keepsake or simply offer a judicious nugget for the group to chew on.

It wasn’t forced or scripted conversation – just insightful and fun. There were a lot of laughs – and not a single tear. More often than not, someone would share something profound and we’d just tuck our lips, nod our heads, and expel a barely audible, “Hmmm.”

I wanted to share some of the commentary, because it definitely does the best job of capturing the essence of the evening:

• We gave our opinion on why we thought people hold on to these "treasures." TK offered the most weighty perspective: “I just think a lot of people are scared they’re going to be forgotten.” WOW!

• We also decided that our “crap” simply helps us remember – it's a trigger mechanism. Maybe it doesn't enhance a memory, but it does remind you to stop and reflect.

• Our friends, who live in Bastrop, brought a unique perspective to the conversation. Last summer, their community – which is located just east of Austin – was devastated by some of the worst wildfires in the history of the state. More than 1,600 families lost everything in the fires – and here I was, actually burning my stuff on purpose.

It made me feel a little guilty, but it reminded me of something I wrote in my initial post: “I want to take the inevitable into my own hands...” More than anything, it made me sad for those families. They didn’t get the opportunity to “say goodbye” to their “treasures.” I feel fortunate that I did.

• You have no idea how much I appreciated the comments I received following my initial post. They were so enlightening and thought-provoking. We discussed these comments at length around the fire. It was neat to get everyone’s thoughts and opinions, but it was even more interesting to discuss them as my mementos turned to ashes in front of us. (If you haven’t already read these comments, I encourage you to scan them. If you shared a comment...thank you!)

• We all agreed that there is a fine line between being a sentimental hoarder (keeping anything and everything) and being flippant and/or reckless (“BURN IT ALL!”)

That’s a great bridge to this necessary point of clarification: I did NOT burn everything. (I’m sorry if I gave ANY indication that I was jumping off the deep end and torching every keepsake in my possession.) Before I loaded up my box and took it out to the country, I scanned through all my “junk” and made a judgment call.

Here’s an example of three things that were NEVER considered for the burn pile:

Book of poems and short stories

from my high school creative writing class

High school letters & patches

(why they were never put on a jacket is beyond me)

The board game I created when I asked TK to marry me

I received some great advice about handling similar “treasures” in the future: Use one box and only keep the best of the best. If your box gets full, don’t start another box – decide if that keepsake is more important/sentimental than a particular item already in the box and replace it if it is. LOVE IT! (Thanks, Nina)

The items pictured above will definitely be the first things in my new “treasure chest.”

There were also three items that snuck into the burn pile and were rescued at the last minute. For some reason, I unfolded each one of these keepsakes right before I tossed them into the fire. After reading them, I decided I couldn’t let them go:

• A note from my mom. It simply said:

“Dad said this morning that the day you were born goes down as one of the best days of his life...mine too. ILY, Mom.”

– – –

• A letter I wrote to my extended family about the love between my grandparents (I wrote it from the perspective of my grandfather):

Excerpt: “Not everyone can understand exactly what it’s like when my wife, my soul-mate, my best friend takes hold of my hand...”

– – –

• A poem about my high school friends (I promise I wasn’t a HUGE dork growing up):

Excerpt: “A friend will be beside you and do whatever he can...To put a smile on your face and warmth in your heart....A friend does not care if you belch or you fart.”

These three "treasures" exemplified love and gratitude to me – two things I’m convinced have the power to change the world. I wanted to save these mementos to help drive home that point to my son.

They will also find a new home in my “treasure chest.”

– – –

The last thing I burned on Friday night was my infamous high school diploma.

I was really OK with it – and I wasn’t 100 percent sure that I would be. I think it was because of the strong opinions I received either way about putting it in the fire.

Confession: The expired driver’s licenses were harder for me to let go of. I’m not sure if it was because of the photos, the uniqueness of each one OR the fact every single person sitting around the fire said: “I still have one my grandparents’ licenses.”

It forced me to quickly ask myself these questions again: Should I hold on to this and share it with Crash when he's older? Will he care?

Then I smiled and tossed each ID into the fire – one at a time.

As each one melted in front of me, I smiled even more and made a personal vow to myself:

“I will leave plenty of ‘treasures’ for my kids to cherish, but they will be a lot more impactful than a laminated piece of paper with an awkward, deer-in-the-headlights photo on it.”

EDITOR’S NOTE: This is the first of three blog posts revolving around my “Life Bonfire.” For my next post, I’ve asked TK and my friends to share their written perspective from the experience.

Burn Notice: Personal Effects Going Up in Smoke

This Friday, I’m going to burn my high school diploma.

The wonderfully great part of that story – it’s only the start of something much, much bigger: A “Life Bonfire” – my opportunity to purge some of the personal “crap” that I’ve felt compelled to hold on to all these years.

I’m going to torch personal effects like...

• Honors and awards

• Projects

• Random keepsakes

Rationale: I’m going to burn anything that I don’t want to burden others with when I’m gone – high school diploma included.

I got this idea when my great aunt passed away several years ago.

When she died, my mom was responsible for handling all the stuff she left behind. She shared keepsakes with other members of our family, donated some items to charitable causes and sold the rest in an estate sale.

But there were a handful of things – personal, one-of-a kind items – that fell into a unique category. These were keepsakes that only had three logical destinations: A box in a loved one’s attic, in the landfill or on the wall of an Applebee’s.

I asked my mom for some examples of these personal treasures she found at my great aunt's house:

• An autograph book from when my great aunt was in the 7th grade. My mom said it was a popular keepsake for teenage girls, where their friends could write sweet notes to you and/or about that person.

• My great aunt's certificate for Junior Red Cross training. It was probably 85 to 90 years old.

Both very personal items that immediately did not have any relevance or significance with my great aunt gone. I'll admit, it’s a little sad to think about, but it’s part of life, right?

I discovered a long time ago that the picture below is not practical...

...so my solution: "Life Bonfire."

I’ve been thinking about this ceremonial blaze since I walked through my great aunt’s house one last time. That was my opportunity to pick out anything and everything that I wanted to hold on to.

There wasn’t anything.

That might sound harsh and cold, but a 7th-grade autograph book and/or a random certificate weren’t going to enhance the incredible memories I had of my mom's aunt, who was like a third grandmother to me.

The wonderfully great memories I had were enough for me.

Not to mention, I had my own junk that I'd been accumulating for 35+ years.

But that did NOT keep my mom from gently persuading.

“Don’t you want this?”

“How about that?”

Then she mentioned the fire.

"You know whatever we can't rid of, we're probably going to have to burn," she said.

I think it was mainly a take-something-please tactic, but my mom's plea simply made me shift my focus and perspective to my life...to my keepsakes...to my personal “treasures.”

As we drove home that night, I started thinking normal, healthy, every-day thoughts. You know... “What if we were killed in a car accident tonight and someone had to go through all our crap?”

"I don’t want somebody else burning my stuff," I thought to myself. "More importantly, I don’t want it to end up in some box in Crash’s closest so his kids’ kids can donate it to the landfill someday."

“Now who was Drew again, Grandpa Crasher?”

“Why is his mouth open in all these pictures? He looks silly!”

At this point of the post, I think it’s important to share this quick note: I’m not dying and I don’t plan on dying anytime soon. (I’ve got too much to do.) I simply thought a “Life Bonfire” was a chance to reminisce one last time and purge. Take the inevitable into my own hands and live out the Neil Young creed: “It’s better to burn out than to fade away.”

So, that’s what I’m doing.

This Friday night, I’m going to pour me a glass of Jameson, fire up a cigar and stoke a blazing bonfire with some of my "treasures." I might share a story about each item before it's turned to ashes, or I might just tuck my lips, nod my head and sigh as I give it toss into the flames.

I wanted to share some of the things I'm letting go of. Here are some of the general items:

School Projects

Old newspaper articles that I wrote during and after college

Internship Projects

Photos

Certificates and Awards

Race Numbers

Stuff from Former Jobs

Printed Collateral from e-Partners in Giving,

the failed company I started in 2008

Some of the items are a little more unique and personal (Confession: A little harder to part with):

A Letter of Recommendation

My first newspaper story – EVER.

(from Journalism I in ninth grade)

Cartoons and doodles from junior high

My self portrait from my college photography class

My Infamous High School Diploma

FINAL THOUGHTS: I had a couple people read through this before I hit "Publish Post." I had an uneasy feeling. Something didn't feel right.

One of my friends said, "As an outsider, it might sound a little harsh."

That's the last thing I want to come across.

I want to stress how interesting and emotional this personal experiment has been. I've experienced a wave of emotions – from sadness to confusion. I've also debated whether I should actually go through with it.

A countless number of questions have surfaced, like:

• Should I hold on to this stuff and share it with Crash when he's older? Will he care?

• Is getting rid of your parents' and/or grandparents' "treasures" just part of life? Am I denying my grandchildren this opportunity?

• Am I being insensitive and/or hyper-cynical?

• Will I regret this in 10 or 15 years?

• Should I just put this "crap" back in the attic and shut the hell up?

Please know...I'm not discounting these incredible memories – just the trivial symbols associated with them.

My high school graduation was one of the best days of my life. I remember it like it was yesterday. It represented an incredible journey and tremendous hope of things to come. It was a springboard to independence – the first step towards my future and destiny. I remember never feeling more confident, alive and excited. IN. MY. LIFE.

I don't need a piece of paper to enhance that memory.

I'm really curious how other's feel about this. Please share. (And keep the fire extinguisher close by.)

If Life Was a Movie Poster...

Music to My Ears: Social Experiment Provides Eye-Opening Perspective

The “stunt” was simple, but brilliant: Arrange for one of the world’s greatest musicians to play in a public place, during an inconvenient time, and see what happens.

The results of this social experiment were profound
AND eye-opening for me.

I’m not exactly sure how or why this 2007 Washington Post article recently re-surfaced, and I’m not sure how or why it grabbed my attention.

I stumbled upon it on my Facebook News Feed last week. (I’ve actually seen it posted a couple/few times since then.) The first post I saw teetered on the edge of uninteresting and pointless. It was a grainy surveillance camera photo (below) and the accompanying text read: “A man sat at a metro station...”

I wish I could say that my “friend” sold it with his supplemental comment, but all he wrote was: “This is so awesome. Please take a moment to read.”

For some baffling reason, I followed my friend's passive call to action.

And I’m glad I did. It was awesome!

There was one poignant question – buried right in the middle of the 7,353-word article –that summed up the greatness of this experiment and the powerfulness of the editorial:

“If we can’t take the time out of our lives to stay a moment and listen to one of the best musicians on Earth play some of the best music ever written; if the surge of modern life so overpowers us that we are deaf and blind to something like that – then what else are we missing?”

The musician was Joshua Bell, and he played for 43 minutes in the lobby of the Metro station in Washington D.C. Three days before the “stunt,” Bell – considered “one of the finest classical musicians in the world” – sold out Symphony Hall in Boston. According to the article, decent seats for that performance cost $100.

– – –

During morning rush hour in our nation’s capital, 1,097 people passed by Bell. The article explains:

“Each passerby had a quick choice to make, one familiar to commuters in any urban area where the occasional street performer is part of the cityscape: Do you stop and listen? Do you hurry past with a blend of guilt and irritation, aware of your cupidity but annoyed by the unbidden demand on your time and your wallet? Do you throw in a buck, just to be polite? Does your decision change if he’s really bad? What if he’s really good? Do you have time for beauty? Shouldn’t you? What’s the moral mathematics of the moment?”

The Washington Post wanted to see if beauty would transcend in an ordinary setting at an inconvenient time.

The results:

• Seven people stopped what they were doing and listened to the performance for at least a minute;

• Twenty-seven people gave money,

• And Bell collected $32.17 (“Yes, some people gave pennies.”).

That’s the humorous part of the story. (Humorous, like if Kobe Bryant got picked last in a neighborhood pick-up game.)

Unfortunately, I found some tragic parts that don’t go anywhere near funny or ironic. Again, I lean towards profound and eye-opening. I had to share these:

A Ghost Story

Since the experiment was videotaped, you’re able to watch Bell’s 43-minute performance. The Post issues a warning, though: It is extremely sad. (Even sped up and bundled in a 3-minute montage, it’s distressing.)

The author writes: “Even at this accelerated pace, though, the fiddler’s movements remain fluid and graceful; he seems so apart from his audience – unseen, unheard, otherworldly – that you find yourself thinking that he’s not really there. A ghost.”

Then the most profound phrase of the article is written: “Only then do you see it, Bell is the one who is real. They are the ghosts.”

WOW!

Bell expanded on this after watching the video. He said he understood why he didn't draw a crowd – it was rush hour, people were focused on getting somewhere. “I’m surprised at the number of people who don’t pay attention at all,” Bell said puzzled. “As if I’m invisible.”

It baffled him because: “I was makin’ A LOT of noise.”

What We Really Want

The second part of the story that I wanted to share wasn’t necessarily “tragic,” but it definitely slapped me across the face. It piggybacks on Bell’s comments above about being invisible.

In another part of the article, Bell explains that he had butterflies during the “stunt.” He said he was a little stressed. This was coming from a world-class musician who has packed concert halls and played in front of royalty across Europe.

Really?

Really.

“When you play for ticket-holders, you are already validated,” Bell explained. “I have no sense that I need to be accepted. I’m already accepted. Here, there was this thought: What if they don’t like me? What if they resent my presence...”

Isn’t that what we ALL want? To be recognized? To be validated? To be noticed?

If your answer is “no” – then: You. Are. Lying.

Bell said it was an odd feeling being completely ignored.

Confession: That’s MY biggest fear of all-time, and I’m a long way from being world-class in anything.

This part of the article was a tremendous reminder that we’re all human beings with very similar wants and needs.

How many times can I use the adjectives profound and eye-opening?

Are You Kid-ding Me?

This is the part of the story that really got me. (It made me tuck my lips, shake my head and whisper "unbelievable.")

Every time a child walked past Bell in the Metro station that morning, he or she tried to stop and watch. And every single time, a parent scooted the kid away.

The article shared a specific moment to drive this disturbing point home. It was about Sheron Parker and her 3-year-old son, Evan.

The article says: “You can see even clearly on the video. He’s the cute black kid in the parka who keeps twisting around to look at Joshua Bell, as he is being propelled toward the door.”

Evan’s mom, who said she was rushed for time, moved between her son and Bell– blocking her toddler’s line of sight. As they left the lobby, Evan can be seen “craning” to get a look at the world-class violinist.

WOW!

The article referenced poet Billy Collins, who once expressed that all babies are born with a knowledge of poetry, because the mother’s heartbeat is in iambic meter. “Life slowly starts to choke the poetry out of us,” Collins said. The article was implying that it may be true with music, too.

– – –

The article ends just like it started, very matter-of-factly. It definitely stirred something inside of me, though. I didn’t realize exactly what it was until I skimmed the editorial again in order to write this blog post.

It was the question The Post writer asked: What else are we missing?

Those five words capture the essence of this “stunt.” It is what makes it impactful and relevant. It makes me want to start answering that rhetorical question and start doing something about it.

That “something” is simply opening my eyes and ears and paying attention to the little things.

Not to completely dumb this down, but the infamous quote from Ferris Bueller has stuck with me since I was introduced to Joshua Bell (pop culture meets classical music):

“Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

I’m glad I didn’t miss this article.

KEY TO LIVING LIFE: APPLY LEVERAGE

When I was training for my first marathon, I told anyone and everyone exactly what I was doing. Any opportunity I had – whether they really cared or not – I was shooting off my mouth about my plans to run 26.2 miles.

"I'm running a marathon in February."

"I'm training for my first marathon."

"I ran 12 miles today – getting ready for next month's Cowtown Marathon."

I know a lot of people simply thought I was bragging and/or full of myself, but that wasn't the case at all. (Not in this instance, at least.)

I was telling people in order to keep leverage on myself – I felt like the more people I told, the bigger idiot I would appear to be if I didn't actually follow through and do it.

"I HAVE to keep going," I would tell myself on those brutal 18-mile training runs. "I've already told half of Fort Worth that I was going to run this thing!"

The purpose of this blog post is to apply that same leverage.

I was recently introduced to a phenomenal activity that focuses on living life to the fullest. (At least that’s how I perceived it.)

It's a very simple concept: Complete 101 preset tasks in a period of 1001 days.

When I first read about the project, I was intrigued – but definitely not sold. I started looking at other people's lists and realized that a lot of them had done it wrong – or at least missed the point of the exercise.

You see, there are very specific rules:

• Tasks must be specific

• No ambiguity in the wording

• The result must be measurable OR clearly defined

• Tasks must be realistic, but also must be stretching (requiring some amount of effort to accomplish)

This is what I mean when I say people were doing it wrong:

"I want to be more disciplined" (Ummm....How exactly do you measure that?)

"Mop" (Yes, that is very realistic. Stretching? Not so much)

"Love my job" (Again, is that actually measurable?)

"Find a new smell" (My all-time favorite.)

There were some people who created complex equations – completely ignoring the instructions to make the tasks "clearly defined":

"Go to church for eight straight Sundays, twice, three times a year." (Huh?)

"Drink only one soda a week for three consecutive weeks, six times." (Ummm...the SAT just called and they want their math problem back.)

Even though I turned into the "task snob" – and was somewhat disappointed with the rest of society – I started falling in love with the whole idea. I looked at the list as a road map to a 143-week, hold-on-to-your-hat adventure.

The instruction to “stretch yourself” made me smile.

I started making a list (just to test the waters) – No. 1, 2, 3..

The questions started to swirl: “Will I actually be able to do that.”

No. 12, 13, 14…

“Is that really ‘stretching’ myself?”

No. 26, 27, 28, 29, 30….

“Is it supposed to be this difficult?”

No. 55, 56…

“Am I really going to do this?”

No. 89, 90, 91…

“Why can't I sleep?”

No. 100…

“Are there enough hours in the day to actually pull off that task?”

No. 101

There was no turning back. My list was done.

I challenged myself on some tasks. (No. 85 Meet the President of the United States).

I also slipped in a few simple pleasures that many of us take for granted (No. 47 Order a double scoop of ice cream).

I'm happy with my list and I'm excited about the amazing possibilities between now and May 4, 2011.

Now it's time to apply the leverage…

“ATTACKING LIFE: 101 tasks, 1001 days.”

(click here to view my list)

'LAST LECTURE' INSPIRES AMAZING BEGINNING

Dr. Randy Pausch died on Friday.

I finished reading his bestselling book, "The Last Lecture," two nights before he passed away. I'm glad I did.

A lot of people have asked me, "Did you like the book?"

ANSWER: "I really did. I don't know if I loved it, though."

It was short and sweet – very to the point. I think the reason I didn't love it...I simply wanted more.

What I did love were Dr. Pausch's life lessons. I loved his advice. I loved his optimism. I loved his passion. He had an amazing perspective on life – right in the middle of a dog fight with the most aggressive and deadly types of cancer.

He does a great job of making you think about your own life – from your parents to your childhood dreams. He posed a very thought-provoking question when considering the topic of his lecture: "What makes me unique?"

Randy Pausch could have easily called his lecture "Do You Need Something to Blog About? I Can Help!" There isn't a doubt in my mind that I will borrow some of his retrospective ideals, apply them to my own life, and share them on future posts.

Since I read the book, I know why Dr. Pausch agreed to give the lecture. (Don't worry...I won't spoil it for you.) But I also believe he did it to make us think – he wanted the people, who have a lifetime to do it, to start formulating, planning, and writing their own Last Lecture. 

I found this clip on YouTube. (I thought it was little more appropriate for my blog – compared to the actual lecture, which is 1 hour and 16 minutes.) If you like the clip, I've included a couple of other links below it.

REPRISED LECTURE ON OPRAH (10 minutes long)

ENTIRE LECTURE (1 hour and 16 minutes)