My Stained Life

"He wears that on a plane?" she asks in a thick New York accent.

Sitting in the lobby of the vacation rental in Key West, I'm staring out of the window not paying attention and assume she's talking to Sarah.

"He dresses like that all of the time," I hear my wife explain.

Looking down,  I'm wearing a stained, white, "Full Moon Party" tee shirt from "Latitude 32", black running shorts and flip flops.

"And they let him on the plane?"

She has dyed flaming red hair, an orange and black Safari outfit and lots of jewelry that rattles when she talks.

Sarah nods, admitting her disbelief and says, "They do."

Shaking her head, the woman shifts her focus to the clerk explaining they'll need assistance unpacking all of the things packed for her dog.

Having my sense of fashion accosted doesn't phase me.

Men wearing bathing suits that fall past their knees are obviously projecting they've overcome other ... deficiencies.

Women wearing outlandish designs or tons of gaudy jewelry are too.

I'm okay projecting stains.

It's not like my life hasn't had them so I may as well wear them well.

Divorce ... getting mad in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong person ... occasional lies that always make things worse ... failing to do what I'd said I would ...

Yeah, I got stains.

But ... my "Full Moon Party Latitude 32 tee shirt" remains mostly white.

Like me.

I do far more good than bad ... have pretty good timing saying the right things ... am almost always honest ... and carry through on whatever I say I'm going to do.

I've got to live with it all so I may as well wear my life with as much dignity and pride as possible.

It's better than pretending everything's perfect, great or awesome when the next person has as many stains as I do.

"Even the righteous of God," wrote the crusty old Saint, they got stains too, "for all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God."

We may as well be honest about it with each other.

Then we get another shot at the glory of God. 

My wife and the cop

What do you do when the police are called on your wife?

There I stand, wondering about the whole "serve and obey" concept in wedding vows as I help clean up crap left behind by HER tenant in HER house.

Actually I'm trying to remember what exactly Samuel Adams, who plays damn good music on Tybee Island with some regularity, said when he performed our ceremony.

I wasn't listening.

Sarah wore a white dress, luminous in the moonlight on the beach, and she may as well have been doing water aerobics with the way things stood out.

Sam may have had me promise to make chocolate chip pancakes every Saturday morning or to return all her library books for her (which really is full time employment).

I don't know ... my thoughts were bouncing like my eyes as she stood before me.

Unlike now as she stands before a cop.

She looks good ... wearing shorts and a tank top ... sweat glistening on her tan firm body ... beautiful blue eyes flashing laser brilliance ... buttocks tightly clinched ... intensely focused on getting her points across ... which she obviously is from my vantage point.

Sweat pouring from my body as I'm witness, I have to stop working and get a grip on myself.

The other person talking to the cop is the lady whose furniture we're moving out.

She showed up wanting her stuff but sat on the staircase rather than help which, of course, drew the attention of my wife.

I've never seen a volcano explode but ... certainly it's very similar to what Sarah did.

"Get off your lazy ass and help us get your stuff out of my house," is how she politely began.

The poor woman couldn't take it, wanders outside and calls the cops.

"Hey," my beautiful daughter Kristen, who is helping us, exclaims, "I know that cop. He used to live with us. I wish Sarah would shut up! I can handle this."

Nodding my head in understanding, I hug Kristen and say, "Aw baby there's no shutting Sarah up once she's making points. Let's just watch? You ever seen a nuclear explosion?"

From the upstairs window, we watch the woman slither away.

The cop remains intensely focused on Sarah's points.

My wife turns around with a wicked grin ... as though she just scored the winning goal of the World Cup.

"Oh Shit," I yell, shoving my daughter to the stairs and picking up a broom.

Sarah storms the stairs like Sherman taking Atlanta.

"Oh hey honey," I sing. "How did it go?"

She has a beatific smile ... that says it all.

The rest of the day was pretty damn good.

 

Why do good people do bad things?

"It isn't my fault," she pleads.

Standing in the rental house from which she's being evicted, she cries and mascara runs down a pasty white face.

It's not her rental house ... she was just staying there with her boyfriend who'd signed the lease but they didn't get along so he left ... and she stayed.

In frustration, anger and tunnel vision focus only on herself ... she trashed the place.

There's no way she's going to be out by the deadline ... forcing the owner whose already losing money with every second she remains in the house to make an ethical/moral/religious decision on the spot.

Call the Police and confiscate her belongings (all scattered on the floor ... including the pictures of her two small children) or ... give her one more day?

And it's raining.

The owner has done nothing wrong yet feels God's punishing her for past sins.

Most blame belongs to the boyfriend who signed the lease, realized he's in a shitty relationship and ... rather than deal with it ... flees. (I don't know why the story of the Prodigal Son flashes through my head at this point.)

Wearing running shorts that don't cover her ass, dirty hair piled on top of her head, standing over the photographs of her children on the floor ... she cries explaining the boyfriend said he'd paid the rent and she has time to figure out what to do ... and where to go.

"It isn't my fault," she sobs ... using the only weapon she has left ... manipulation.

"This is my kids stuff."

The air is sucked out of the room.

Sitting on the banister of the staircase, bare feet dangling in the air, Styrofoam cup in hand, staring at the trashed house ... I watch and listen ... and think.

Why do good people do bad things?

I don't know how good they are ... most are better than others ... some seem Angelic ... but whatever amount of good is in this mother of two ... and her relocated boyfriend ... has crashed on the shoulders of the owner of the house like a heavy cross ... with Roman shoulders slashing with whips ... in front of a snarling crowd.

It just ain't right," as Grandma Carver used to say.

Why do people ... regardless of how much good they have in them ... do bad things?

Why do tornadoes swoop down blowing up homes and killing people? ... How do tsunamis roll out the sea flooding homes and drowning families? ...  Lighting strikes from nowhere killing a father watching the sun set as his family plays in the sand ...

Can it be that bad things are simply part of the way life is?

Let's be honest ... we all got bad in our lives ... some more than others ... and bad always arrives at the worst possible time.

But ... it is what it is ... as my Mother says.

What do you do when it comes?

That's the real question.

What do you do?

Post Biirthday Blues

Staring at all of the birthday wishes on my computer screen ... I'm incredibly thankful.

Sarah got an early jump posting a sweet love note to me on Facebook and a slew of friends jumped on it with their own birthday wishes.

Other friends took time to send wishes and comments on my Facebook page and it was great to hear from many I haven't talked with in a long time.

There were several messages on LinkedIn and my friend Rick Smith actually send on an old fashion e-mail.

Going completely over the top, Sarah also presented me with an actual birthday card with a message SHE HAD WRITTEN with a pen!

Judy O burst into The Breakfast Club and gave me a birthday hug which led the team that works there to scream "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" repeatedly at the top of their lungs.

Sarah gave me more than a hug later in the morning.

Each of my kids called and we shared great conversations.

Two of Sarah's girls called to sing me "Happy Birthday" and the other messaged a bunch of happy faces then quickly moved on to lobbying me to take them to Florida.

I worked part of the day ... meaning I looked for work because things are slow right now.

We have renters who relocated to another state without telling us and that cannibalized part of my special day.

I did get a birthday nap, snuggled beside Sarah, which is a wonderful gift.

We went out for dinner and afterwards sat in "our" swing on the beach but it was too windy so we left to listen to Sam Adams play damn good live music on the island.

As soon as we entered, God told Sam to stop playing in the middle of a song to hug us and talk for a while which was nice and we enjoyed each other as friends do, though God told Sam to tell me it's time for me do something in Bar Church again.

Back home again, Sarah and I watched a movie while birthday wishes buzzed on my phone then it was time for bed.

Now I've reread each and every wish, watched the cute videos people linked, listened to the voice mails, replied to the personal messages while touching the card Sarah gave me.

I find myself with the post Birthday blues.

It's not centered on being older ... I'm a kid at heart!

And it's not that I lack in much, because I don't, though I fret about how to keep it all.

But there's a restlessness ... a boredom that's crept inside ... that's leaving me melancholy on a lovely sun drenched morning kissed with a delightful ocean breeze.

It happens after most birthdays ... and with some regularity throughout the year ... a question haunts ... the fire in my belly burns ... in spite of everything I've done and I've done a lot ... the only thing matters is what's next?

Thank you everyone.

Cinnamon Rolls are like Life

I never thought I'd be baking Cinnamon Rolls again but here I am staring at the Pillsbury Doe Boy who's smiling at me.

I hate the little bastard!

When I opened the can, tearing off the little silver piece, only the tinniest sliver of wrapping comes off leaving no way for the can to POP open.

Sarah and the kids are still sleeping so I can't beat the Hell out of it on the counter top.

Pillsbury and its frigging little Doe Boy makes me cuss.

Taking a butcher knife I stab the cute little SOB and cut the can.

POP ... doe magically appears from the wound.

Shards of Pillsbury Doe Boy and his defective can fall to the floor ... which makes me smile.

In spite of the false promises of Pillsbury marketing of easy open cans, I bake five Cinnamon Rolls, slather them with icing and watch Cassidy, Sarah's 7 year old, eat the tops.

"Why aren't you eating  the bottoms?"

"They're burnt," she tells me.

"When did golden brown become burnt?"

She shrugs her shoulders leaving the bottom of five Cinnamon Rolls on her plate.

Leaving her to finish the chocolate milk, I stroll outside to the Beloved Back Deck realizing how much cooking Cinnamon Rolls is like life.

Everything seems perfect when we start, largely because we believe all the false promises that everything is perfect.

In actuality most everything is defective ... you, me, the world and the way things really work.

Discovering this makes us angry forcing us to lash out at the beliefs in perfection and the false Prophets who sold us such crock.

In spite of this we somehow figure out a way to make it work.

Even when we pull things off ... even miraculously! ... not everyone is pleased.

That's Life!

I may as well accept it.

Damn little Pillsbury Doe Boy!  

Marvelous imperfections

I belong to "Memories of growing up in Savannah," a Facebook group where people remember things that are no more.

Daily I click the site and my memory's jogged to recall things long forgotten.

My favorites are old photographs of everything from the "Shoney's" on Abercorn to the crumbling beach wall on Tybee Island ... though I'm naturally drawn to old pictures.

Whenever we travel I find the local history of mostly black and white photos and I imagine what it must have been like before neon lights, Interstate Highways or jumbo jets.

Things are both better and worse then ... a marvelous imperfection where things were as good as they could possibly be but would soon get better.

Through there are always causalities.

The "Shoney's" is long gone, along with the old seawall ... Joe's Drive In, the Highway 80 Theater, the Bounty House Restaurant, the Krystal downtown, swimming pools with diving boards and the water park on Tybee.  

Each had its moment in time, now forever frozen in memories and old photographs.

Friends too had their moments and, while either they've moved on or we have, the best of us never forget the impact they had on us.

"He was great when he was great," George Harrison once said of Elvis Presley. "Last time I saw him I said, "Put your jeans back on and do 'That's alright Mama" because that really is your way ... not singing 'My Way.''"

I love the sentiment because Elvis was freaking great ... when he was freaking great ... then one day he wasn't.

It's the same with most everyone else.

While I enjoy memories of growing up I sure as Hell don't want to go back.

I like this part of the journey better.

I love reconnecting with old friends, especially when they mix well with my new ones.

What I enjoy most are seeing old friends who grew into themselves. When we're together there are short stories about the past but learning, experiencing and enjoying who they are now is far better.

All of that to say ... see you in a month Joey Finch!

Sarah and I can't wait.

Forgotten acts of kindness

Most acts of random kindness are quickly forgotten.

Paying it forward doesn't have much life expectancy either.

Neither does doing unto others as you would have them do unto you.

The Jewish concept of "mitzvah" teaches the world is built upon kindness but it seems we keep destroying things.

"Kindness is my religion," says the Dalai Lama as he's in political trouble with China.

Buddha taught kindness creates good Karma though the great teacher himself may have died from food poisoning.

I believe in kindness.

It's the way I try to live.

But I'm not naïve.

Just because I'm kind doesn't mean people take it kindly.

Most of the time, I think, they go through the motions of reciprocating in kind but quickly forget about it and move on with their next need.

"The more that you take ... the less you give back," (Daryl Hall and John Oates) and that's just as true as anything Buddha, the Dalai Lama, Jesus, Rabbis or anybody else has to say about kindness.

There is a story in our house ... we try to keep a vase of fresh flowers on the table all of the time ... it makes for a more appealing house ... in the dead of winter there's the reminder of spring and they constantly celebrate summer ... it's out gift to ourselves ... a permanent reminder of colorful blooms at this stage of our lives ... reminding us of the love and happiness in our lives.

Sarah was at Publix and had flowers to bring home when the cashier gushed over their beauty.

In an impetuous random act, Sarah asked for a moment to run to the back for a forgotten item only to return with another bouquet of flowers for the woman.

"Oh  My God," she exclaims, "you've made my day!"

It made Sarah's.

I doubt the cashier remembers it all ... but we do.

One of religion's biggest problems is, while it's supposed to be a group activity, we've reduced it to a singular sport.

That's the thing though, the kindness we give to others is mostly for ourselves.

Recipients take short term glee and quickly forget.

But every time we author acts of kindness we walk with the Gods.

And every time we don't ... the Gods move on without us.

What's wrong with crying?

Roy Orbison sang about "Crying."

I actually do it.

Getting it naturally from my Dad who easily cried after surviving a rough start in life, the horrors of war, watching his best friends die ... it left him ... "tear friendly."

He wept like Jesus wept.

Passing his tear ducts on, salt water flows easily from my eyes.

Here's an example.

We were watching "American Idol" ... often reason enough to cry ... when a commercial came on and the song was familiar so I grabbed my I-phone and found Zach Sobiech's magnificent "Clouds"

Zach was 17 when he was dying of cancer trying to figure out to say goodbye to everyone so he wrote a song that got recorded and took on a life of it's on as he lost his.

As I played it on Youtube, Sarah's 7 year old Cassidy crawls in my lap, lays her head on my shoulder and as we watch together ... my tears flow freely.

"Give Mike a hug," Sarah says from the sofa, "he's crying."

American society holds the value that tears are signs of weakness.

I think a lot of American society is bullshit because if Jesus wept then he's apparently as un-American as they come.

My Dad the Marine Prisoner of War too!

I believe it's healthier to cry ... to let your emotions out and not bottle things up inside.

Dr. Judith Orloff concludes, "Typically, after crying, our breathing, and heart rate decreases, and we enter into a calmer biological and emotional state."

That sounds pretty healthy to me.

It's a shame the world ... American society, John Wayne, the Die-Hard movies, Chris Rock, the modern church (not Jimmy Swaggart but Joel Osteen and T.D. Jakes), and most everybody elected to public office ... frowns on crying.

Tear ducts were given to us by God and are every bit as important as lungs, eyes, hearts, passion, intellect, penises and vaginas!

I try to use all of my gifts from God.

What about you?

A New Journey Begins!

For almost four years I've posted a song title as my status update on Facebook trying to never repeat a title. I immensely enjoy friends responses ... sometimes quoting lyrics, asking questions or searching for hidden messages.

I've also daily posted a blog or Facebook note. This has been enriching as a consistent community of followers was born. You found things to identify with, laugh at or be spurred to debate or discovery.

I went through seismic changes in my life. Suddenly single turned into marvelously married. An empty nest is now full. Countless jaunts to St. Martin dwindled as new destinations emerge. A house became a home. Dead ends are endless possibilities.

Professionally I morphed from successful CEO to full time Beach Bum; international consultant to partnering with my wife Sarah in Micheal Elliott Enterprises "growing hope" for people needing more in their lives through coaching and encouragement.

My 9th book Sandy Bottoms and Duct Taped Hearts is out and the feedback is GREAT!

The 10th, a children's book illustrated by Eddie Woods is being released in a few months. Winston, The Little Gay Dog is a loving look at my family, acceptance in a Judgmental world and being yourself in the end!

Now there are new worlds to explore!

You've followed my changes and accomplishments as I'm pretty transparent about it. It's been cathartic for me and I'm happy you find it encouraging, humorous and useful.

BUT ... All Things Must Pass.

Change blows in the Palm Trees and it's time for them to carry us to new seas!

The daily song titles and postings will soon fade like the setting sun on the Back River.

Replacing them are new opportunities for those seeking inspiration, encouragement, laughter and community!

Like getting married under a full moon on the beach or cliff diving from 45 feet in the Caribbean, it's a little scary but pretty damn exhilarating!  That's how all great things in life start!

So stay with me as this journey!

We're going to have fun!!

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Follow the journey at www.facebook.com/micheal.elliott1 and liking it or at www.meellc.com

Half Truths or Happiness?

"You're crazy," he said pointing a television camera in my face, "you're one of those people who can talk about anything for 5 minutes."

I laughed and shrugged my shoulders.

"Seriously," he pressed, "I could say ... I don't know ... nuclear fusion ... and you'd talk for 5 minutes before I'd realize you're just making shit up."

Jodee Sadowsky stifles a laugh.

We were in Jodee's popular restaurant The Breakfast Club, after hours as I was being interviewed for a PBS documentary on lighthouses and he'd agreed to host it to promote his business. He and his brother Nick were busy prepping for the next day.

"When I make love," I reply without cracking a smile, "I like to split the photons from my neutrons creating a nuclear explosion."

Everyone burst out laughing.

"Even my neighbors are blown away," I continue though the camera is laying on the table as the crew wipe tears of laughter from his eyes.

I've always had a good rapport with the Press.

I speak their language ... half truths and made up shit occasionally dressed in absolute truth.

I learned how to do it in Seminary, somewhere between Hebrew and Greek was "Bullshit."

These days I shy away from such things. "Politics is the last refuge to which a scoundrel clings," said Samuel Johnson and I concur.

"The people want pastors, not clergy acting like bureaucrats and Government officials," says Pope Frances I and I agree with him too.

"Whoever controls the media, controls the mind," proclaimed the Prophet Jim Morrison and I think he's right too because there's some crazy people in charge of the news ... any News!!

Politics, "Professional Christianity" and the Media was my life for decades, and though I can still do it all with the best of them, I've ended up in a quieter world.

"Do unto others as you would have them do unto you," is pretty much how I go about things now.

"The world will be saved one neighbor at a time," is how it's put in the Talmud and that's what Sarah and I do for a living.

I like where I am now much more than before. It's a happy place where nothing's made up anymore. Even when sad things happen, they're accepted in love and truth. It is what it is. We love you. And that's the truth.

It's better that way.

Besides, the great interview I did about the Lighthouse ended up on the cutting room floor, though The Breakfast Club was mentioned.
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The Holidays are here? Are you ready to survive them? Join our journey to "Do the Right things for you!" beginning in December by registering at www.meellc.com/onlingclass

The Ingridents for Happiness

Love is rare
Life is strange
Nothing lasts
People change

These lines from a wonderful song, "Old Friend" performed by Michael Feinstein, is beautifully melodious and sang as though one friend talks to another.

They're in a bar after one's relationship falls apart and the other is listening to the sad tale.

Everything sung in the chorus is an absolute truth!

Love comes and goes, bursts into brilliance or burns out slowly, sometimes lingering forever or may abruptly leave. You have to "Make Love", meaning it takes two which is tricky because often it's only one working on it while the other takes advantage. One day you wake up and realize you really are in love or ... you've merely been taken advantage of. Love really is rare.

Life is certainly strange. Just when you think you've figured it out you're jerked in another direction. It's chock full of surprises, unexpected opportunities and tragic things. Sometimes it's funny, boring, hurtful, lonely, or shocking though it has a definite ending that catches us all by surprise. None of us know how much life we have so no one's prepared when it stops.

Nothing last! "All things must pass," sang the Major Prophet George Harrison. Sunrises, sunsets, days, weeks, and years all slip away. Friends don't last, marriages end one way or another, churches go out of business, Governments crumble, the binding in books crack and stars and planets eventually die.

For sure, people change. I'm not who I once was though there's a funny quirk that I  think everyone else should stay the same. We don't! The best of us grow and keep at it right up until we die. Others get stuck even as they long for something different. Change takes courage, the ability to throw caution to the wind and a hearty dose of foolishness. The funny thing is even if we work out hardest to keep everything as it is, people still change.

But ... love ... life ... appreciating what we've got ... the friends we have ... those are the ingredients for happiness.

The trick is mixing them in the right proportions.

The other trick is to keep baking new cakes. You've got to always be mixing and remixing your love, life, accepting what and where you're at, and knowing who your friends are ... or unhappiness grows.

Take a moment now and do an inventory. Who do you love? What's strange about your life? What are the things important to you these days? Who are your friends?

Then throw in pinches of yourself and mix your happiness for today.

And do it again tomorrow!
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There still time to register for "Doing the Right Things for you" my online class that begins in December. Just click to www.meellc.com/onlineclass

What Good Are You?

I remember watching President Kennedy's funeral and Jack Ruby shoot Lee Harvey Oswald.

When Martin Luther King, Jr. was killed my Dad brought home a pamphlet titled "The Three greatest men in History". On the cover was Jesus Christ, Abraham Lincoln and Dr. King.

I can still picture Robert Kennedy lying on the floor in a puddle of blood when he was shot several months later.

Howard Cosell told me John Lennon was murdered as I watched Monday Night Football.

On September 11, I was in the dining room where a television showed the planes crashing into the twin towers trying to calm down mentally ill people who were scared to death they were next.

More than I care to remember, I've witnessed people do cruel things to others with no care at all.

I've seen tsunamis, Hurricanes, Tornados, Flash Floods and all manners of weather kill people.

I've been inside crack houses trying to woo people out, held the hands of men dying from AIDS, was vilified for trying to help the mentally ill and have received enough "Hate Mail" to last the rest of my life.

I've seen all manner of evil ... not just spoken words ... but hideous actions.  

"We didn't start the fire," Billy Joel reminds us.

It's been burning since Adam and Eve were expelled from the Garden of Eden.

Yet I still believe good always trumps evil, light drives away darkness, kindness is more powerful than cruelty and love reigns supreme.

I believe in Karma and eventually terrible things happen to bad people. Those struggling to do good things are eventually blessed with goodness.

I believe in second chances, Angels and most everyone I meet.

I seen Heaven and I've seen Hell in this life.

I don't believe we wait until death comes to experience either.

Life has an incredible ability to keep making itself over. I'm a much different person than I was a decade ago.  I'm calmer, happier, very much in love, content and at peace with most everything I've done so far.  I've been born again, reincarnated and evolved from what I was before.

I don't care what people say about my beliefs. I've heard it all before anyway. These things are the core of who I am now and I'm sure as hell not going backwards.

No, we didn't start the fire but I can use it for good things or for bad.

I choose good.
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There still time to register for "Doing the Right Things for you" my online class that begins in December. Just click to www.meellc.com/onlineclass

The Day my Life Began

I rarely tell this story, because honestly, it makes me look crazy.

But, here you go ...

It was a wonderful, sunny day on the Caribbean Island of St. Martin. I was alone, standing on the powder white sand of the beach, watching the waves break on the reef.

Taking a deep sigh, I tried to relax for the first time in hours.

I'd been working since 5 a.m. when the sun rose and hadn't stopped until now. It was 1:30 in the afternoon.

Hungry and tired, I needed to eat so I walked back to my tiny studio to get money and clothes and saw my phone buzzing.

Answering, it was the board chair, back in the states, making more demands of me.

He had already proven to be one of my life's major irritants. Regardless of what I did, he thought it wrong and said so. The only language he speaks is "criticism" and boy had he given me lots!

Professionally I was on top of the world, an internationally sought after expert, author, popular speaker and award winning business man.

Personally, I was recently divorced, lived alone with my dog and hated the smell of my plush office because it just made me tired. That's why I was in St. Martin, trying to get away from the sad things in my life.

"You should quit," he said when I answered the phone.

"I resign," I replied and hung up.

And my life started over that day.

Strolling back to the beach with a beer in my hand, I made a promise to myself.

"I will be happy. And I will help others be happy too. I'll do what I want. And I'll help others do what they really want too."

Let me tell you what's happened since then.

I'm married to the love of my life! Our work is helping people enjoys theirs too! We worked hard helping others to build happy lives, doing what they want and ENJOYING what they have.

It works!

Thousands of people follow the stories and are remaking their lives too!

I'm not telling you this to make you think I'm awesome or great but I want you to realize the steps I took from being a very unhappy survivor of life to make it crank now!

If you're ready to have the happy life you want, I am here, willing to pull back the curtain and show you exactly how to get there!

We've turned it into a system that gets you from where you are to where you really want to be in a very short period of time!

But there are some ground rules.

1. I'll be completely honest with you about my shit and expect you to be honest about yours. Honestly saying where you're at and honestly knowing where you want to be is the first steps to happiness. I'm here with you for each step. You got anybody else pledging you honesty?

2. I worked hard to get here. You will have to work hard too. You know the saying "You can lead a horse to water but you can't make him drink." It's the same here. I'm ready to work with you, be your partner and get you there but you have to want it AND in the end YOU HAVE TO DO IT!

Ready to get started?

Let's pull the curtain back and this journey begins! I'll show you how to get where you really want to be at www.meellc.com/onlineclass

Is your life Heaven or Hell?

I think everything mostly works out the way it should.

That's not to say there's not crazy surprises, unexpected turns, scary moments and horrible falls along the way. But there's unanticipated delights, miraculous discoveries, wonderful things and exhilarating heights too.

At least that's my life so far.

It's probably yours too.

When the bad things happen ... deaths or divorce, friends who prove they're really not, car wrecks, broken promises and nightmares of the night ... we're naturally shocked.

Then it turns into anger because we rail against the injustice of life not being perfect!

Because we want perfect lives.

Yet none of us have one.

Though lots of people pretend to.

When good things happen ... love, marriage, friends who are consistently so,  disasters that are near misses, kept promises and dreams that come true ...we are ecstatic!

Then we downplay it.

We minimize the good and exaggerate the bad.

Why are we wired that way?

The other day Johnny O and I are sitting at The Breakfast Club having coffee and he says, "We've got six-and-a-half marriages between us."

I wince because, though it's true, it's not something I care to think about.

I'm the happiest I've ever been though Sarah would often shoot me if she didn't love me so much. Johnny O's the happiest he's been since I've known him, which is a very long time.

"We should start a business together," he continues. "Anybody thinking about getting married should call us first. We'll guide them through it all. I mean ... we've already experienced everything so others should benefit from our experience.  A small fee will save lifetimes of heartache or pave the highway to happy lives like ours!"

I can't think of anything to say.

"One call ... that's all," he says with a beaming smile.

It's hard to not love Johnny O.

"Hope for the best and plan for the worst" is something I used to say.

Now I try to simply take life as it comes. I try to help others do that too.

Taken all at once life can kill you and believe me, I've watched it kill lots of people I cared about.

Life's good and bad. It's not perfect. Concentrating on the bad leaves you dead even if you're still living.

Holding onto the good makes it more enjoyable and I believe life's to be relished because, either way, it doesn't last forever.

Even the worst times have silver linings of good and the best of times always boarder on disaster.

There's Heaven and Hell.

It's just a question of which are you going to hold on to.
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Baggage

Waiting for the luggage, Sarah and the girls are excited to be home. Talking at once ... well except for Maddie who is texting, utterly oblivious they've landed, walked half-a-mile and is now standing among a crowd of people... they're exclaiming the things they did in New York City.

The carousal spits out bags one at a time as travelers jostle into a mini-mob waiting to snatch a giant suitcase or golf bag the instant it rolls down the belt.

We're standing with the more patient people as Laurel and Cassidy argue over who's rolling the bag to the car.

Arms intertwined, Sarah and I are happy to be together again in the "suddenly compact universe of skin and breath and hair."

Cass grabs my UGA tee-shirt pleading because she just turned 7 she's perfectly capable of rolling the big bag by herself.

In the same instant, Laurel machine guns words, immediately overloading me with information which mostly seems aimed at Cassidy's inability to roll luggage without supervision.

Glancing up over her little blond head I spy Fran, staring stoically with folded arms, waiting on bags, standing beside us.

For the first time, I realize I've had two Fran's in my life.

I loved one of them.

She's dead.

"Hello Fran," I say to the other with the confidence of a Congressman telling another lie, "remember Sarah?"

Pauses really can be pregnant and this one was going to be volcanic when it blew!

"Micheal," she says without a smile, arms folded, a morticians face ... and then, "Of course, Sarah," with breath from Antarctica.

Sometimes history occurs in a second.

Sarah holds me tighter, grinning beatifically, and confidently says, "Of course. Fran!" with the slightest hint of "I don't give a shit!"

Fran had been a board member of the organization where we'd both worked. After 30 years in the business I begged for a sabbatical and the board said "No" so the weight of homelessness, AIDS, poverty, despair, really bad Government and hunger did me in.

Such graveyards are full of emotions.

Two large purple and white stripped bags roll passed on the belt and Fran jerks to grab them, as though a Zombie scratching the dirt off a grave and then she's instantly gone.

Cass tackles me ... "See! I can do this!"

And she does.

Well, it tips over four times before we get to the car, but dammit, she did it.

Unlike others I've known and choose to forget.
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The Best Ending Yet

It's time to do new things ... again!

I'm the first to admit making a change, starting over and beginning something from scratch is like betting it all at the roulette table!

There's an impending certainty everything's going to be great as you dance into the Promised Land or your shoulders slump as you drag your feet to the Land of Broken Dreams.

I've started over so many times you'd think it would be as easy as riding a bicycle but it's not.

"What happens if this doesn't work out?" I'm asked.

"Of course it's going to work out," I reply confidently. "It always works out. Everything always works out."

Having said that, I freely admit it never quite works out the way I thought.

Each of my beginnings started with a lump in my throat and wishes that I don't fail or make a fool of myself.

In spite of these doubts, they all worked out great!

"Doubts are the ants in the pants of faith," says Frederick Buechner and I can't agree more.

That's why I know it's going to work out because my ass is itching with doubts. I just know its going to be alright because everything else I've done has been wildly successful, wonderful, inspiring, fulfilling and fucking fun!

Plus, they all had a really great ending!

You know when you go to a play or a movie, the best ones have a really great finale?

Well, the things I've done had tremendous endings ... both professionally and personally! They made you jump out of your seat roaring in laughter while applauding like crazy or ... wiping tears as you slumped in the chair asking yourself unanswerable questions.

The thing about both good beginnings and great endings is you can only do them once. If you try to do them again you're doomed to fail.

That's why most people only do one thing in their life. They're too frightened to risk failure so they settle for the safety of monotony. Painting the house a new color pushes their boundary line of comfort.

"I don't know Margaret. The house has always been blue. I think it would shock people to paint it red."

So they keep everything the same.

Or, as my friend Rodger Pack once said, "Mike, I want you to meet my next ex-wife!"

I loved Rodger. He had tremendous endings too but it never stopped him from new beginnings.

Anyway, I've got lots of new stuff going on in my life. Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts is my newest book. Next month I'm teaching a new class "Doing what's Right for you". Both are just in time for Christmas! The book is great gift for others and the class is a terrific present to yourself!

We're also celebrating the Holidays in whole new ways, remaking a company, redoing the house and picking new places to visit. We've made new friends, read new books and find new ways to do most everything.

"Ask, and it will be given to you. Seek, and you shall find. Knock, and it will be opened to you."

That's the thing. Most don't ask, never seek and certainly don't knock so everything stays the same.

Not me!

I'm well slid into the later part of my life and have tons to still accomplish!

"There's too much to see, waiting in front of me that I know I just can't go wrong," is how Jimmy Buffett puts it.

That's what I know with everything inside of me.

Plus, this is going to be the best ending yet!
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How will you enjoy today?

Sometimes you simply sit and stare.

Inside but somehow outside of yourself.


Staring through the open sliding glass doors at a glorious sun illuminating the water dripping from the trees, I'm just thinking.

There are no words ... just thoughts and emotions.

I'm focused on people I love.

Sarah tells me I love everybody, meaning it critically and as a warning. You're not supposed to love everybody because they screw you in the end and that's true of lots of people.

And I've certainly been screwed ... and it hurt ... and they left not giving a damn ... blaming me somehow ... and those I thought cared didn't ... and I was shocked at who did!

But the truth of the matter is I'm a Daydream believer.

I imagine and don't think I'm the only one.

I'm a fool, for Christ's sake, but there's wisdom in there somewhere if we really are Daydream believers, meaning we're honored and dishonored in life.

I've certainly been both.

But that's life! It's what you do with it that matters most.

God made life, gave it to us and now it's ours to do with what we want.

Or to not do anything with it.

Sarah's away visiting her parents in New York so everything is a bit out of sorts. The dogs understand somehow because they follow me closely whenever I move. The house is too quiet. It's just a house when she's not here. I'll be glad when she gets home though I'm glad she and the girls are having a good time.

Johnny O interrupts these thoughts with a barrage of text messages. He's asking about my son Jeremy though it quickly dissolves into really bad humor that has me roaring in laughter.

Ah, it's a good day to do good things, as my friend Dicky Trotter says.

I'm going to enjoy it.

I hope you enjoy yours too.
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The Boy Is On Fire

"Can we walk outside for a moment," he says interrupting me, "you're filling up this room and I need to breath."

I don't know what to say and keep quiet as we walk out on the Beloved Back Deck.

Kyle places his hands on the railing, closes his eyes and takes deep breaths.

I plop in a chair to give him space.

It's a beautiful day with a bright sun, slight ocean breeze and everything is blooming brilliant blues, pinks, reds and whites. 

Taking my shirt off to work on my tan, I toss it on the table and watch him open his eyes and smile at the Palm Tree with the oyster eyes.

"Is that Fran?" he asks pointing at the wall of trees that canopy the privacy fence.

Nodding my head I watch his smile broaden and he turns towards me. He is very tall with long wavy brown hair cascading his shoulders. The flowing white shirt he wears gives the impression he's the ghost of a Shaman because his skin is very pale.

"Whew," he smiles sitting down, "you have so much energy it was overwhelming me and I need more space.

"I'd rather be out here," I shrug.

His smile is beatific and there is a sweetness about the man. Sarah and I had agreed to help him if we could and he was asking for it now.

"So as I was saying, I've done music my whole life. I've never worked a 9-5 job but I got a nice house, food in the Fridge and cable television!"

The way he says it is filled with wonderment and pride so it makes me smile.

"But I want more. I'm tired of the bars. And I have this chance," he explains. "I've been asked to combine my music with speaking in Churches and workshops across several states."

That's why he's here. I'm coaching him on getting his story together, doing it right and building an arsenal of antidotes he can whip out whenever he needs it.

That was a couple of months ago but yesterday I received a message from him on Facebook with a link to his most recent speech.

"The boy is on fire," he wrote.

Clicking the link, I listened to his marvelous story perfectly delivered to a group in Greensville, South Carolina as I sat in the same chair on the same deck without a shirt on perfectly beautiful day.
His speech made me smile. (Check him out at https://soundcloud.com/thespiritcenter/kyle-shiver-sel-realization !)

"The boy has indeed come a very long way in a very short period of time," I wrote him. "I'm proud of you."

And I sat there and kept right on smiling.
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The Book Club

"It's a bit like becoming a Monk," I explain. "Not in any sort of bad way but life now is a lot of silence, contemplation and waiting on words to come."

Dicky nods head, stroking his beard and says softly to the ceiling, "I understand."

The other members of the group, all women, stare at me without expression.

Sarah stares too, sitting beside me, listening every intently. She's heard me say this before taking it as a negative reflection of our life though I never meant it that way. Now she seems to be hearing it in a different way.

Ours is a crazy schizophrenic life. A large portion of each day is filled with quiet, solitary work that demands lots of concentration with little interaction with others. That's the Monkish part, working from home managing virtual relationships and occasionally orchestrating "community".

When Sarah's girls are here its a relentless series of constant demands and a schedule that takes both of us to manage. We're always carting them some place or the other, often meeting in the middle to swap them off before heading in different directions again. We try to expose them to the world at our house to balance the cloistered upbringing they have at their fathers. Afterwards we collapse.

"If money wasn't an option and you were wealthy, what would be on your bucket list?" Nancy asks the members of the Book Club.

When it's my turn I say, "Well first I'd hire Dicky to take all my phone calls and tell everyone 'No' unless I over ride him to say 'Yes' to someone."

He gives me a thumbs up saying he would be good at it.

"Then I'd buy a large plush House Boat and park it just off shore. Sarah, the girls and I will live there and we'd move if it ever got cold. I never want to be cold again."

Several agree with the last sentiment.

I'm struck my goal to live on a House Boat to be secluded from others is when I'm already living a pretty cloistered life.

It's funny.

I want more of what I've already got.

Everyone leaves so Sarah and I end up in the kitchen sharing thoughts, concerns, hopes and dreams. She munches on toast while I sip wine. It is most intimate.

We are pleased with tonight's gathering of the Book Club. It's a lot like life. People come and go in it and we're never certain whose who but it keeps happening, bringing a joyous fellowship that boarders on worship.
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"Doing the Right Things for you" is a 28 day online journey to making life the way you know it should be for you. It begins December 2013. Check it out at www.meellc.com/onlineclass

It's your life to make!

"I want your life!"

"Well mines taken," I reply. "Why don't you get yours?"

"No, that's not what I mean," he protests. "Mine sucks! I work all of the time in a job I don't like but I have to pay the bills. I take care of my mother. I don't have the time or money for anything other than what I do."

"Sure you do," I say.

"What?"

I repeat myself, "Sure you do."

"I barely get by," he reassures.

"Listen," I press, "you spend money on yourself all of the time. You spend some on others too. You go to Wendy's and The Japanese Palace and rent movies every weekend, as you should. You deserve to do nice things for yourself!"

Well," he sighs with a drawl.

"You buy lots of shoes too don't you?" I continue. "I'm not a shoe guy but I have no problems with those who love them."

"What's your point," he snaps?

"If your life ends up looking something like mine, well that's great! We'll cross paths regularly."

"What are you talking about," he asks exasperated?

What I'm talking about is four years ago, by hook and definitely by crooks, I redid my life. The slate was wiped clean, which is hard to do because, like paint, the past likes to stick but I eventually started over again in my 50s! I gave myself time, spent money on me which I'd never really done before, and began thinking about myself before doing things for someone else.

I began a new career, found the love of my life, was adopted into a brand new melded family, and constantly try new things. It's made me more laid back, less confrontational, more contemplative, slower to judge and I don't dwell on things like I used to.

We live at the beach, work from home, love staying home when we're off, delight in each of the kids and love to travel as much as possible. Sarah and I have a lifestyle we love and are working hard to sustain it.  We're doing what's right for us and while it's got its scary moments it's fulfilling as hell!

"Listen," I finally answer his question, "it's your life for the making. If you chose a job you don't like, assume total responsibility for people and things you're not totally responsible for, and live somewhere other than where you want ... that's your choice."

"Personally," I continue, "I think it's about time you starting doing the right things for you! No one else will. Besides you only have so much life left. Whose is it going to be? What's it going to be?"

"I can't just walk away," he stammers, full of fear.

"Then start planning now," I fire back. "Get a calendar and start planning where you want to be and by when. Start investing in yourself and stop giving everything away to others. Join the group that starts soon that I'm teaching (www.meellc.com/onlineclass )! Do whatever it takes because ... you've only have so much time left to live!"

"I will," he says.
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“Can’t put down my newest book.  I’m reading it for the second time. Observations, situations, conversations all pulled together in a delightful way that makes you crave  more. Thanks to my favorite author−Micheal Elliott.” -Brenda Kelly

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