Becoming Yourself

Developing a Better You

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The Life-Changing Power of a 3 Minute Thanksgiving Exercise

Can three minutes really change your life?

I understand the skepticism. We’ve all heard too many “get rich or skinny quick” sales pitches to believe such a claim easily. All I can say is one simple exercise has worked wonders for my emotional and mental health.

Every night before bed, I gaze out the window at the dark skyline and reflect on things I’m thankful for. Things that went well that day. Tasks I accomplished. Meaningful conversations I had. Beautiful things I saw. Something that made me laugh or smile. People I spent time with. Even on hard, crushing, frustrating days, I can be grateful for health, for family, for a roof over my head and food to eat. For the gift of sleep and the hope of a new day.

That’s it. It really is that simple. Those few minutes of intentional thankfulness foster a positive, healthy perspective and help me avoid a victim mentality.

I’m glad that in the U.S. we have an annual holiday centered on being thankful, but a habit of daily gratitude is far more impactful.

Celebrate well this Thanksgiving weekend. Enjoy rest, family, friends, and good food. Then carry a little bit of Thanksgiving with you everyday. Establish a three-minute thankfulness routine. If you do, your emotional and mental health will rise, and you’ll take another step toward Becoming Yourself.

What Dangling Thirty Feet in the Air Taught Me About Trust

It was a really dumb thing to do. In my defense, I was standing on a small wooden platform 30 feet up a tree. Given that I’m not a fan of heights, the logical part of my brain was not fully engaged. I was on a high ropes course, the kind that has zip lines, wire walks, and other obstacle course elements suspended far above the forest floor. It’s basically a torture device.

So I stood there with a thin wire running from a harness at my waist to an equally thin wire above my head. And I was supposed to step off the platform. I could’ve backed out, of course. But that would have meant a humiliating climb back down the 30 foot ladder in front of the group of students I was supposedly leading on this excursion. Not a very attractive alternative.

Who’s dumb idea was this trip anyway? I thought. Then I remembered it was my dumb idea. Helpful.

I suddenly came up with a brilliant plan. It was genius. I would simply wrap the support line connecting me to the overhead wire around my hand. That way, if the line somehow magically disconnected from my harness, I would have a good grip and save myself from plunging to my death.

So it was with a sigh of relief that I stepped off the platform. And then the full weight of my 6’ 3” frame cranked the support line tight around my hand. My palm felt like it was pinned under a semi. Gasping in pain and realizing my stupidity, I wrenched my hand free. Dangling unceremoniously from a cable that could have easily held a small elephant, one clear thought penetrated the fog of pain and humiliation – I should have trusted the wire.

Reflecting back, I realized that the cause of my anxiety and pain was not actually fear. It was lack of trust. The reason I was knock-kneed on the platform and in serious pain after stepping off it was because I didn’t trust the line to hold me. I should have. The camp had a great reputation and safety record, the facilitators were trained and experienced, and the equipment was tested and tried. Even so, I chose not to trust.

Have you ever tried to hedge your bets? Play both sides? Put one foot into a fluid situation while attempting to keep the other firmly on solid ground? How did that work out for you? Obviously there are times and situations where it pays to be cautious. But there are also times when we just have to choose to trust. To step out. To risk. To dive in. With a relationship. With a business venture. With an unexpected opportunity.

So how do you know the difference? How can you tell when to be appropriately cautious and when to take the risk? By asking yourself one simple question – is this worthy of my trust? For me on that ropes course, it was. I paid the price for not going all in.

As you look at your life, where are you holding back in giving trust? With another person? Yourself? Your abilities? Your dreams? Are they worthy of trust? If so, what would it mean to take the risk and step off the platform? What good could come of it, for you and for others? Choose wisely, then take the leap. If you do, you’ll take another big step toward Becoming Yourself.

This post was originally published July 27, 2019

Why I Love Cemeteries

I’m tired.

For most of the last six weeks, I’ve traveled the U.S. on book tour, talking with people about writing and my Monsterious series. I’ve done a steady stream of stock signings, interviews, school presentations, and bookstore events. It’s been exciting, frustrating, fun, exhausting, and deeply fulfilling.

At the end of it all, I feel empty. Drained. In need of quiet, rest, and reflection. When I realized I didn’t have the time or the energy to write a new post this week, I waded through some of the hundreds of posts I’ve written over the last six years. The one I’m reposting below (originally published March 3, 2018) spoke to me, maybe because the thought of lying down for a long time sounds very appealing right now. I hope it helps you take another step toward Becoming Yourself.

Why I Love Cemeteries: Cemetery

I love cemeteries. That might sound odd, even morbid. I’m not insensitive to the memories of pain and loss that they hold for so many. I deeply respect that. But to me, they are special places that nurture my personal development in ways few others do.

Cemeteries invite quiet reflection. They encourage me to slow down, to ponder, to contemplate. What do I want my life to be about? How do I want to be remembered? They have an atmosphere of reverence and respect, rare qualities in a time often marked by derision and divisiveness. A stroll through a cemetery reminds me of what I believe is important: Relationships. Character. Purpose. Joie de vivre.

Why I Love Cemeteries: Cemetery

I love how my perspective is sharpened by reading tombstones. I’m reminded that all of these people were once like me. That one day a grave marker will bear my name. Soon after, I’ll probably be remembered only by loved ones and then, over time, by no one at all. Reading those names reminds me that life is a breath, and I am small. I’m not as important to the world as I sometimes think I am. That’s a healthy dose of humility.

Why I Love Cemeteries: Cemetery

Yet being in a cemetery also makes me feel cherished, prized, special. Not to a fame infatuated world but to One whom I believe made me, knows me, and desires me. I think of a cemetery as a transition point, a way station, a gate that leads from one season to the next. It’s a passageway connecting one plane of existence to another. The end of one journey and the start of a far greater adventure.

Why I Love Cemeteries: Cemetery

I could be wrong. Maybe death is the end. Perhaps nothing waits for me and everything that I am will be snuffed out like the flame of a candle. But I don’t think so. I have subjective reasons, things I’ve felt and heard and seen that point to something greater, something beyond this life. And there are more objective arguments that appeal to my rational mind as well. So for reasons of both the head and the heart, I believe and find hope.

Why I Love Cemeteries: Cemetery

So if you need some perspective on life, if the thought of some quiet reflection sounds like water for your thirsty soul, if you’re looking for a little hope, I encourage you to slip away for an hour. Stroll thoughtfully through a cemetery. If you do, you’ll take another step toward Becoming Yourself.

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