So I guess this means we're moving into another phase of the relationship. Leroy, after almost a year of fun and hanging out, finally had to disappoint me...at least that's the way he saw it.
I remember being a kid and being terrified of disappointing my parents - especially my father. Growing up in an alcoholic and abusive environment, I learned that disappointment, of any kind led to pain, be it physical, mental, or emotional. So I did all I can to avoid it. There were times, of course, when I didn't do something right, when I stayed out a little too late, or picked on my brother one too many times, or just took a breath at the wrong time...ouch!
This led me to learn that any time I do something 'wrong' I would stay silent, I'd lie, I'd whatever to avoid any more pain. See, I didn't learn a healthy relationship with consequence. My consequences were way to painful to confront, and being a kid - not making mistakes - kind of hard to do. After a while, any time something bad would happen to someone in the family, be it my mother, my brothers, my sister, I would find a way to blame myself. Hiding my faults created the illusion that everything was my fault. So when my father died, and I was the only one around before he did, it had to be my fault. It was something I did - maybe something I didn't do. He left because of me - he died because of me.
I lived with this haunting belief for decades. If I do something wrong - people leave.
Leroy called me to tell me he was confused. He made a commitment to go to a family reunion (not his) on the same day he told me we'd go whitewater rafting. After talking it through, he told me his confusion was around what to do - do I disappoint my friend and say I won't go to the reunion, do I disappoint Greg and say I won't go rafting? I told him this was a great life lesson. Sometimes people schedule two things at once - overlooking one. When this happens we need to make a choice. We need to choose with clarity, knowing that someone will be affected by our decision. He told me that he felt it was the right thing to go to the reunion. I asked him if he was worried about me being angry - he said yes. I asked him if he thought he disappointed me - he said yes. I asked him if he was still confused - he said no. I told him I was sad that we wouldn't be together for the trip.
I felt a strong urge to ensure him and tell him I wasn't leaving, to ensure him that I understood. I wanted to tell him that everything was ok. I realized shortly after, that it was me that I wanted to ensure. His experience brought up some old and dusty wounds. I felt a great sense of sadness around the pain I experienced as a child and was able to feel some of that through all of this...what a great gift!
- gt
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Saturday, June 16, 2007
The power of words.
Ah, the power of words. In this day of information-overload, words can easily be taken for granted (and are in my humble opinion). As an example - and don't read into this, I'm not at all getting political - one single word, amnesty, turned, practically, the entire U.S. Senate around within the debate process regarding immigration. If you come up with the precise word, you can either make or break someones day.
In my life's experience, I've come to understand that words were a big part of my self-destruction. In my youth and early twenties, when I would attempt to do something, the 'tapes' would immediately start playing "you can't do this; you're going to screw this up; you can't do anything right...see, I told you; you're nothing but a failure"...etc.; tapes that my parents made for me when I was a boy and they were two (or ten) sheets to the wind. Little did they know those words would haunt me and shape my life forever.
Nowadays, I do all I can to use words carefully and delicately. Before I make a statement, I determine if what I'm about to say is in the positive or negative form: "I'm not sure if I'll be able to do this" (negative) vs. "I'm going to need to put energy into this to make this work" (positive). To some, it may not seem to make a difference. To me, it makes all the difference in the world. I have come to learn that I am completely responsible for everything that I say and I need to be clear with all that I do.
As a mentor, this philosophy is extremely important. I could easily repeat my parents practice of negativity and turn Leroy into a boy of low self-esteem and create for his youth, worlds of doubt. I choose to be conscious.
In addition to being aware of what I say, I also find it my responsibility to teach him about proper use of the power of words. Case in point, we were at a golf event the other week and came upon the putting green - a place of frustration for many. He, along with other children, were being coached in the basics of pendulum swings and grace. Of course it was difficult for him at first. I expected him, knowing his competitive side and thirst for excellence, to focus and progressively improve. He didn't. I wondered. I listened. And there it was. He kept saying "I can't do this"; "I won't be able to get this"...sound familiar?
It was then when I decided to start the "lesson of the day". Whenever he would putt and miss, rather than saying "I can't" and "I won't" - I asked him to say "I can" and "I will". At first, he fought back; "I can't" and I would chime in, "You can". Then he would miss again and say "I won't" and again I would chime in "You will"... Eventually, he started saying "can" and "will" - maybe even simply to appease me.
Well, I'll tell you what, no more than 5 minutes after the practice of positive speaking, he made one...then another...then another - all he could do was smile.
"Whether you think you can or whether you think you can't, you're right." ~ Henry Ford
- gt
In my life's experience, I've come to understand that words were a big part of my self-destruction. In my youth and early twenties, when I would attempt to do something, the 'tapes' would immediately start playing "you can't do this; you're going to screw this up; you can't do anything right...see, I told you; you're nothing but a failure"...etc.; tapes that my parents made for me when I was a boy and they were two (or ten) sheets to the wind. Little did they know those words would haunt me and shape my life forever.
Nowadays, I do all I can to use words carefully and delicately. Before I make a statement, I determine if what I'm about to say is in the positive or negative form: "I'm not sure if I'll be able to do this" (negative) vs. "I'm going to need to put energy into this to make this work" (positive). To some, it may not seem to make a difference. To me, it makes all the difference in the world. I have come to learn that I am completely responsible for everything that I say and I need to be clear with all that I do.
As a mentor, this philosophy is extremely important. I could easily repeat my parents practice of negativity and turn Leroy into a boy of low self-esteem and create for his youth, worlds of doubt. I choose to be conscious.
In addition to being aware of what I say, I also find it my responsibility to teach him about proper use of the power of words. Case in point, we were at a golf event the other week and came upon the putting green - a place of frustration for many. He, along with other children, were being coached in the basics of pendulum swings and grace. Of course it was difficult for him at first. I expected him, knowing his competitive side and thirst for excellence, to focus and progressively improve. He didn't. I wondered. I listened. And there it was. He kept saying "I can't do this"; "I won't be able to get this"...sound familiar?
It was then when I decided to start the "lesson of the day". Whenever he would putt and miss, rather than saying "I can't" and "I won't" - I asked him to say "I can" and "I will". At first, he fought back; "I can't" and I would chime in, "You can". Then he would miss again and say "I won't" and again I would chime in "You will"... Eventually, he started saying "can" and "will" - maybe even simply to appease me.
Well, I'll tell you what, no more than 5 minutes after the practice of positive speaking, he made one...then another...then another - all he could do was smile.
"Whether you think you can or whether you think you can't, you're right." ~ Henry Ford
- gt
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Sense of sadness...
What's my reality? Hmm. I guess that depends on how you look at it. If you choose to see my reality as a man who has a good job, a beautiful home, a nice car, a great wife, good friends and good health, then theoretically, I'm doing alright.
Let me take you deeper inside for a moment. Walking towards the density and darkness, you'll start to feel a great sense of sadness - a heaviness that doesn't seem to fit the external reality. There's something else present. The only way to describe it is that it's a universal sadness - a realization that the world is missing some pieces...more over, the people in the world are missing something - but what?
I spoke to my brother the other day and we began the conversation talking about summer projects, vacations, and life in general. The thin quickly got thicker when he brought up the difficulty he's having with his son, my nephew. How he's making decisions that lead down an extremely rough and dangerous road (I know, I've been there). How the sense of consequence appears to be invisible. Now, I know my brother. He's a great father and a great man. He's been down a very similar road of healing and self growth as I. We have conversations that allow us to heal a piece of ourselves practically every time we meet. I know he's doing all he can for his boy. And still...
Soon after the conversation, I realize the soup pot is stirring...my soup pot. A have a few choices here. I can blame him for being a bad father - expect him to raise his boy on his own and whatever happens is completely his fault. I can blame my nephew for being a bad kid - "hey, they're your decisions, live with them"...how else is he going to learn. I can ignore the whole thing and pretend it doesn't exist - "Now, where was I with my landscaping.". I can fall into my wound of sadness and fear that I project onto my nephew - that I was never loved, no one cares about me, and I'm all alone. OR, I can turn the mirror on myself, own all of the judgments I have, step through them and walk into my leadership - as a man.
My vision and my actions create my reality. I choose to step up. I choose to do my part. I choose to be part of the village that is necessary to raise a child. I choose to mentor this boy. I choose to support this boy. I choose to love this boy. I will provide that to him. I will call him and talk to him at least once a week (yes, it's that easy). I choose to let his father know he's not alone. I choose to let his father know it's not his fault. I choose to love his father. I will provide that to him.
I judge and know that men in the world are faced with similar challenges. I judge and know that men choose to blame; men choose to pretend it doesn't exists; men get lost in their wounds. The sadness that remains is for these men - for the result of their lack of action. I challenge you to step up. Do what is necessary to change the world...you are the man you've been looking for!
- gt
Let me take you deeper inside for a moment. Walking towards the density and darkness, you'll start to feel a great sense of sadness - a heaviness that doesn't seem to fit the external reality. There's something else present. The only way to describe it is that it's a universal sadness - a realization that the world is missing some pieces...more over, the people in the world are missing something - but what?
I spoke to my brother the other day and we began the conversation talking about summer projects, vacations, and life in general. The thin quickly got thicker when he brought up the difficulty he's having with his son, my nephew. How he's making decisions that lead down an extremely rough and dangerous road (I know, I've been there). How the sense of consequence appears to be invisible. Now, I know my brother. He's a great father and a great man. He's been down a very similar road of healing and self growth as I. We have conversations that allow us to heal a piece of ourselves practically every time we meet. I know he's doing all he can for his boy. And still...
Soon after the conversation, I realize the soup pot is stirring...my soup pot. A have a few choices here. I can blame him for being a bad father - expect him to raise his boy on his own and whatever happens is completely his fault. I can blame my nephew for being a bad kid - "hey, they're your decisions, live with them"...how else is he going to learn. I can ignore the whole thing and pretend it doesn't exist - "Now, where was I with my landscaping.". I can fall into my wound of sadness and fear that I project onto my nephew - that I was never loved, no one cares about me, and I'm all alone. OR, I can turn the mirror on myself, own all of the judgments I have, step through them and walk into my leadership - as a man.
My vision and my actions create my reality. I choose to step up. I choose to do my part. I choose to be part of the village that is necessary to raise a child. I choose to mentor this boy. I choose to support this boy. I choose to love this boy. I will provide that to him. I will call him and talk to him at least once a week (yes, it's that easy). I choose to let his father know he's not alone. I choose to let his father know it's not his fault. I choose to love his father. I will provide that to him.
I judge and know that men in the world are faced with similar challenges. I judge and know that men choose to blame; men choose to pretend it doesn't exists; men get lost in their wounds. The sadness that remains is for these men - for the result of their lack of action. I challenge you to step up. Do what is necessary to change the world...you are the man you've been looking for!
- gt
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Choices.
Somewhere along the line, I lost the fact that life is about choice. I remember growing up in suburbia living behind the madness of my alcoholic and abusive parents and never wanting anyone to know the truth of what was going on inside the walls of our house. You see, as a boy I made a choice to not let anyone in; to stay hidden in my world of blame and self destruction. It's not difficult to surmise how my life continued, only to say that I gave up my power of choice. I accompanied myself with people who were blamers, accusers, and judgers - never taking accountability for their own life and afraid to make any changes.
It wasn't until I was in my twenties, beaten down and practically self-destroyed, that I came to realize that there was choice - there was another way. (I would be aloof if I don't make a note of my family and friends who helped me find the path - THANK YOU!)
The other day, leroy stopped by with one of his friends just to say hey. That was cool. The fact that he found a solace in me that gave him the freedom to just show up. We were talking about whatever, throwing snowballs at each other, when his friend said to me "how can i get a big brother?"
There's so much in that statement that makes me want to smile. One of the things I thought about was how this boy, behind his tough and rugged exterior, found his bravery and shared his vunerability with both of us. He talked about his difficulty in school. He talked about wanting to stand up for the weaker kids and still try to be a tough guy. He talked about his confusion and frustration.
As soon as I heard him start to blame other people for what was going on in his life, I stopped him. I reminded him that he's the one who makes the decision. He's the one who's responsible for his actions. He's the one who is going to be held accountable. No matter who he blames, no matter where his finger points, he is to always hold up the mirror and take a look at himself and ask "what are my choices?"
"If you know what you're worth, then go out and get what you're worth. But you gotta be willing to take the hit, and not pointing fingers saying you ain't where you are because of him, or her, or anybody. Cowards do that and that ain't you." ...(Rocky Balboa)
- gt
It wasn't until I was in my twenties, beaten down and practically self-destroyed, that I came to realize that there was choice - there was another way. (I would be aloof if I don't make a note of my family and friends who helped me find the path - THANK YOU!)
The other day, leroy stopped by with one of his friends just to say hey. That was cool. The fact that he found a solace in me that gave him the freedom to just show up. We were talking about whatever, throwing snowballs at each other, when his friend said to me "how can i get a big brother?"
There's so much in that statement that makes me want to smile. One of the things I thought about was how this boy, behind his tough and rugged exterior, found his bravery and shared his vunerability with both of us. He talked about his difficulty in school. He talked about wanting to stand up for the weaker kids and still try to be a tough guy. He talked about his confusion and frustration.
As soon as I heard him start to blame other people for what was going on in his life, I stopped him. I reminded him that he's the one who makes the decision. He's the one who's responsible for his actions. He's the one who is going to be held accountable. No matter who he blames, no matter where his finger points, he is to always hold up the mirror and take a look at himself and ask "what are my choices?"
"If you know what you're worth, then go out and get what you're worth. But you gotta be willing to take the hit, and not pointing fingers saying you ain't where you are because of him, or her, or anybody. Cowards do that and that ain't you." ...(Rocky Balboa)
- gt
Monday, March 12, 2007
Challenge! Inspire! Encourage!
If you would walk into my home and look up, you would see a hand-painted country sign - to go with the rest of the decor - that hangs from the rafter and reads Challenge! Inspire! Encourage! I remember picking this sign out of the many available at the flee market that day. Something about it demanded my attention. Something about it whispered to me - need a life mission, here you go.
Hmm, mission - is that like "Mission Impossible" or more like the "Jerry Mcguire" mission statement. Dare I compare it to the latter. My experience with men's work has brought me to an organization that is built on mission and service - The ManKind Project. I bring this up, not to promote the organization (although that would probably be a good thing in my humble opinion), but to tell you that my mission has directed me to a world of love, compassion, hope, inspiration, encouragement, and joy!
I digress - So, Leroy, my brother, his two sons, and I decided to take a trip to an indoor activity house called Ozzies (Leesport, PA). This place is full of great fun - rock walls, ropes course, laser tag, arcade games - everything you need to fill your day with senseless play...and maybe something more - maybe a greater sense of self?
Leroy was playing basketball and the rest of us were timing ourselves in the rope climb (my younger brother [cough,cough] had the best time of 11.5 sec]. Now imagine this; a rope wall, similar to the ones you see in the military commercials, about 12 feet high, then 4 horizontal wooden beams above that every 3 feet. At the very top, a cow bell to announce your victory.
I decided to pull Leroy from the sport he could play anywhere and bring him over to the wall of competition. Although his mouth said "yeah, this wall's no problem", his body disagreed. He got to the end of the rope wall and decided to come back down. I wasn't sure how to handle that...did I let it go and move on to another sport OR did I challenge him to another climb? Anyone who knows me will tell you what I decided to do.
So as he was preparing for his second climb, I had this sense of mission, this drive to help him succeed. I thought to myself, he's going to be a stronger young man once he does this...he's going to believe in himself even more. I needed to proceed. Once he got to the end of the rope, he started to hesitate. I got my brother and nephews involved in encouraging him, yelling for him to succeed - "Go Leroy! You got it! Don't stop!" He kept it up - he got to the first beam, up and over. He came to the second - "Go, Go Go!". He made it...to the third...finally, as he approached the fourth beam, he stopped. He was done. His arms shaking from pulling himself up. His brow sweating from the battle. There was no way he wasn't going to ring that bell, I thought. I took a breath, went into my heart and said "Leroy, take a breath, and with all you have, pull yourself up and ring that bell." HE DID IT! It was awesome. He had this look on his face like he just moved a mountain. On his descent, we all applauded and praised him for his win...what a great moment.
On the way home, after a well-deserved bite to eat, we talked about the climb. I'm not sure exactly what I expected him to learn but it came to me in one small statement..."You know what Greg, next time I need to climb that wall, it's going to be easier."
No Doubt.
- gt
Hmm, mission - is that like "Mission Impossible" or more like the "Jerry Mcguire" mission statement. Dare I compare it to the latter. My experience with men's work has brought me to an organization that is built on mission and service - The ManKind Project. I bring this up, not to promote the organization (although that would probably be a good thing in my humble opinion), but to tell you that my mission has directed me to a world of love, compassion, hope, inspiration, encouragement, and joy!
I digress - So, Leroy, my brother, his two sons, and I decided to take a trip to an indoor activity house called Ozzies (Leesport, PA). This place is full of great fun - rock walls, ropes course, laser tag, arcade games - everything you need to fill your day with senseless play...and maybe something more - maybe a greater sense of self?
Leroy was playing basketball and the rest of us were timing ourselves in the rope climb (my younger brother [cough,cough] had the best time of 11.5 sec]. Now imagine this; a rope wall, similar to the ones you see in the military commercials, about 12 feet high, then 4 horizontal wooden beams above that every 3 feet. At the very top, a cow bell to announce your victory.
I decided to pull Leroy from the sport he could play anywhere and bring him over to the wall of competition. Although his mouth said "yeah, this wall's no problem", his body disagreed. He got to the end of the rope wall and decided to come back down. I wasn't sure how to handle that...did I let it go and move on to another sport OR did I challenge him to another climb? Anyone who knows me will tell you what I decided to do.
So as he was preparing for his second climb, I had this sense of mission, this drive to help him succeed. I thought to myself, he's going to be a stronger young man once he does this...he's going to believe in himself even more. I needed to proceed. Once he got to the end of the rope, he started to hesitate. I got my brother and nephews involved in encouraging him, yelling for him to succeed - "Go Leroy! You got it! Don't stop!" He kept it up - he got to the first beam, up and over. He came to the second - "Go, Go Go!". He made it...to the third...finally, as he approached the fourth beam, he stopped. He was done. His arms shaking from pulling himself up. His brow sweating from the battle. There was no way he wasn't going to ring that bell, I thought. I took a breath, went into my heart and said "Leroy, take a breath, and with all you have, pull yourself up and ring that bell." HE DID IT! It was awesome. He had this look on his face like he just moved a mountain. On his descent, we all applauded and praised him for his win...what a great moment.
On the way home, after a well-deserved bite to eat, we talked about the climb. I'm not sure exactly what I expected him to learn but it came to me in one small statement..."You know what Greg, next time I need to climb that wall, it's going to be easier."
No Doubt.
- gt
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Ready...Set...Go!
Healthy competition is good...in fact, it's probably necessary in certain aspects of life. To find competition in a game of dodgeball, however, is extremely fun (and tiring). Leroy and I joined a gang of other Big Brothers and Big Sisters this week and visited a fun zone called BounceU (http://www.bounceu.com). This place is full of air-filled 'rooms' and obstacles that invites everyone who enters to find their inner child and just play (not hard for me to do).
One of the best moments for me that evening was a small moment. We were in the dodgeball room plotting how we were going to rush the other side and pummel them with the random sized balls we collected through our battles. We were both sitting in the safest corner on our side so as to not get smacked down ourselves, when another boy came to join our side. Leroy knew him from past events and quickly grabbed his attention and said "This is Greg, my brother.". Small statement, yes, powerful words, for me, yes. I was moved. It may have been the way he said it, with his big smile - It may have been the excitement of being in the middle of battle - but something inside me smiled. I understood, for a brief moment, that I was making a difference.
I typically dispel ideas of bringing good to any one's life. Perhaps it was a wound I received as a child (you know that 'not good enough' b.s.). Never the less, I made room for this. I realized that I do make a difference to this young man. He's proud to be with me. He feels safe when he's around me. He talks to me about things that bother him - things I felt like I could never take to anyone when I was a child.
The great thing is, I didn't do anything except show up. It spoke volumes to how simple it really is to mentor. I used to worry about things like "what are we gonna do"..."what are we gonna talk about"... not anymore. I realize by just being who I am and listening to who he is, like any relationship, it grows. The benefit is that I provide a choice to a boy who may need another choice in his life.
I hope this story gives you a sense of how easy mentorship is and the greatness it brings. Ready...Set...Go!
-gt
One of the best moments for me that evening was a small moment. We were in the dodgeball room plotting how we were going to rush the other side and pummel them with the random sized balls we collected through our battles. We were both sitting in the safest corner on our side so as to not get smacked down ourselves, when another boy came to join our side. Leroy knew him from past events and quickly grabbed his attention and said "This is Greg, my brother.". Small statement, yes, powerful words, for me, yes. I was moved. It may have been the way he said it, with his big smile - It may have been the excitement of being in the middle of battle - but something inside me smiled. I understood, for a brief moment, that I was making a difference.
I typically dispel ideas of bringing good to any one's life. Perhaps it was a wound I received as a child (you know that 'not good enough' b.s.). Never the less, I made room for this. I realized that I do make a difference to this young man. He's proud to be with me. He feels safe when he's around me. He talks to me about things that bother him - things I felt like I could never take to anyone when I was a child.
The great thing is, I didn't do anything except show up. It spoke volumes to how simple it really is to mentor. I used to worry about things like "what are we gonna do"..."what are we gonna talk about"... not anymore. I realize by just being who I am and listening to who he is, like any relationship, it grows. The benefit is that I provide a choice to a boy who may need another choice in his life.
I hope this story gives you a sense of how easy mentorship is and the greatness it brings. Ready...Set...Go!
-gt
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Another First
How important are firsts, how memorable? I guess it all depends. Well, tonight was Leroy's first time seeing the Harlem Globetrotters (http://www.harlemglobetrotters.com). My first time seeing them was with my wife a few years ago.
For me, the first time I saw the Globetrotters, despite being an adult, was a magical experience. I remember growing up knowing who they were by seeing them on TV, knowing the amazing things they could do with a simple ball. I remember thinking to myself that they probably weren't even real, that it was all some kind of magic...you know cinematography stuff. I'm sure that's at least one thing that contributed to my magical experience.
When we showed up for the show, and the Globetrotters came out onto the floor doing their 'magical circle' to "Sweet Georgia Brown", I watched Leroy's eyes light up, triggering the magical experience I had only a few years ago. The Globetrotters did their thing, their ball-handling magic, their shooting magic, their halarious antics...it was a great show. Leroy couldn't help but laugh everytime the team played a joke on another player or the audience. He kept saying "did you see that"..."that's crazy"...what a blast.
Anyway, I can only hope his first experience with the Globetrotters reserves a little space in his memory bank and that he can recall it, recall the happiness and laughter, whenever he needs - or, as most memories occur for me lately, at completely unexpected moments. Those times when you remember something funny, your face breaks out into a HUGE smile, and no one around you knows what the heck your smiling at - priceless!
- gt
For me, the first time I saw the Globetrotters, despite being an adult, was a magical experience. I remember growing up knowing who they were by seeing them on TV, knowing the amazing things they could do with a simple ball. I remember thinking to myself that they probably weren't even real, that it was all some kind of magic...you know cinematography stuff. I'm sure that's at least one thing that contributed to my magical experience.
When we showed up for the show, and the Globetrotters came out onto the floor doing their 'magical circle' to "Sweet Georgia Brown", I watched Leroy's eyes light up, triggering the magical experience I had only a few years ago. The Globetrotters did their thing, their ball-handling magic, their shooting magic, their halarious antics...it was a great show. Leroy couldn't help but laugh everytime the team played a joke on another player or the audience. He kept saying "did you see that"..."that's crazy"...what a blast.
Anyway, I can only hope his first experience with the Globetrotters reserves a little space in his memory bank and that he can recall it, recall the happiness and laughter, whenever he needs - or, as most memories occur for me lately, at completely unexpected moments. Those times when you remember something funny, your face breaks out into a HUGE smile, and no one around you knows what the heck your smiling at - priceless!
- gt
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