The Perfect Prescription

July 14, 2021 By Scott "Q" Marcus

I don’t like going to the doctor.

It’s not that I don’t like my doctor; he’s great. It’s that it puts my impermanence on full display, stripping away the denial of immortality; even when it’s simply a routine checkup. Something about being in a medical office raises my blood pressure as well as fear level.

“How are you feeling?”
“You’re the doctor; wouldn’t it be up to you to tell me?”

He chuckled an inner warmth that blended well with his extensive knowledge. As I said, I like my doctor. In a time where the medical providers are overworked and under-appreciated, rushing here to there to accomplish everything required of them, he always appeared totally attentive during the short time we spent together once a year.

“Are you exercising?”
“Yes, I walk about 30 minutes at least five times a week – plus I take my dog out each day. That’s not really exercise because we have to stop and pee at every bush we pass.” I paused, then corrected, “Well, it’s not WE to have to stop and pee; it’s him. Just clarifying…”

He smiled again.

“Your blood tests all show that everything is as it’s supposed to be. You’re a healthy man.” He paused. “So, how’s your life?”

The question knocked me on my heels for a brief flash; not a query I expected from an MD, but, when you think about it, it makes perfect sense. One cannot heal the body while ignoring the mind and spirit. As I took a mental inventory of “how is my life,” I opened up about the waning days of my career, my aspiring spirituality, family drama, life goals, and the passing of years in general.

Says singer/songwriter John Mellencamp in The Real Life: [Read more…]

Celebrating Values

June 30, 2021 By Scott "Q" Marcus

Sometimes, I have a clear and direct idea of where I’m going before I start these columns.

I can see the way visibly laid out in front of me. Alas, those days are rare. Mostly, I stare at a blank screen until my muse makes herself known. Sadly, she might not stay. Other times, the column takes on a mind of its own. I start out going one way but end up somewhere else. Today is one of those days. We will commence in one direction, but — fair warning — will take a sharp turn. Fret not, however, I will bring you home.

That said when did answering the phone become an invitation for someone to sell you a car warranty, lie about an arrest warrant out for you, or threaten you because your computer was “messing up the internet”? We don’t pick up anymore unless it’s a number we sure-fire recognize.

Not paying attention, I made the mistake of sliding “accept the call.”

“How are you?” asked a heavily-accented man.

Yanked back into awareness, irritated by what I judged was going to be a scam, I indignantly replied. “I died last night.”

Waited long enough to hear his reply before hanging up; I heard him say, flummoxed. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

I find the delivered-without-thought question, “How are you?” to be disingenuous. Don’t get me wrong; when asked by someone who knows and cares about your actual well-being, it’s a sincere, kind query. Yet typically, we say it because, well, I’m not sure. I guess we don’t want to appear rude. However, asking a personal question when, in reality, you don’t want to take the time to hear the honest answer is indeed rude. Just sayin’…

Oft times, I’ll respond with an expression I learned from talk show host Thom Hartmann, “I’m great – but I’ll get better.” Some laugh, finding the retort clever, shattering the mold of what they expected to hear. Others have said, “Oh no! I hope you get better soon,” obviously not listening to the reply, but wanting to move on to their real agenda and avoid the unpleasantness of listening to someone’s ailments.

Yep, you guessed it; I’m a little cranky today. Shields up.

[Read more…]

Expect Nothing

April 14, 2021 By Scott "Q" Marcus

What would life be like if you released all expectations of how things should be, taking your day minute-by-minute, focused always on the present; letting events unfold as they will?

Imagine a day where you didn’t expect anything from anyone or anything.

I don’t mean – as Frank Sinatra sang, “Roll myself up in a big ball and die;” rather totally, unequivocally releasing all pre-suppositions and judgment – from the minute to the significant. You wouldn’t fret about the weather. No longer would anger be the default reaction when tailgated on the freeway. The cost of groceries or the number of your bills wouldn’t sway you. You would be a student of the news; not an angry viewer. If someone didn’t treat you in a manner you considered “fair,” you’d move on, not held in a prison of perturbation.

Nothing would get under your skin; you’d be in a sublime, ever-calm, state of peace and acceptance.

Gautama Buddha lived 2500 years ago. Born to a royal family, he held within a great desire to help his people, liberating them from physical and mental tribulations. Giving up his inheritance, and setting out in search of the truth which would bring peace to the world; after seven years, he recognized that all sorrow was caused by attachment to having things stay the same when in fact they are constantly changing. As stated else wise, it was the expectation of what we assumed, rather than the acceptance of what is, that caused the hurt.

Think about it.

Not only do the physical world and our relationships change, but so even does our very being. Although Gautama wouldn’t know it, our bodies replace themselves with a new set of cells every seven years to ten years; some of our most important parts are revamped even more rapidly [sources: Stanford University, Northrup]. Physically you are no longer who you were not too long ago.

That’s a striking concept by itself, but let’s take it deeper. [Read more…]

Attitude Contagion

March 24, 2021 By Scott "Q" Marcus

One of our more mundane — but necessary — tasks is going to the grocery store.

Probably similarly to you, it’s not like we wait with eager anticipation to go to the supermarket. Actually, to the contrary, we don’t look forward to it at all; I mean there’s nothing bad about it. I don’t have horrifying childhood recollections of being trapped in a grocery store overnight, with a recording of “Clean up on aisle 12” playing repeatedly while I am desperately trying to escape through motion-sensitive doors that slam shut repeatedly as I attempt to exit. It’s not like that. It’s just – akin to vacuuming or dusting – a chore. It does beat starving, however, so we do it.

Since COVID kicked in, my wife and I have been good citizens.

We wear masks, socially distance, and to that end, we’ve minimized our shopping excursions. Therefore, instead of every week – as we did before the pandemic – plumping our pantry with pasta, potatoes, and peanuts, and our refrigerator with radishes, ricotta, and raisins, we now grocery shop only twice a month. Furthermore, in the interest of minimizing spread, rather than hitting the aisles in the evening, we go first thing in the morning. As they say, even God isn’t awake yet, but there are fewer customers at that time so it minimizes risk; and it is good to have it completed early in the day.

The hitch in our get-along is that neither my wife nor I are in any way, shape, or form what would be called “morning people.” We’re fortunate that due to the nature of our livelihoods, we don’t even use an alarm to wake up (unless you refer to the “I’m hungry” howl of our cat as an alarm), so rising early and prepping to go grocery hunting doesn’t do a whole lot to put on our happy faces. Yesterday, it was also cold and windy, making the task less pleasant. And, upon arriving at the store, my glasses fogged up due to double-masking.

Bottom line? I wore my cranky pants to the store.

Anyway, I — and my dour disposition — enter the store. I’m greeted through my fog-covered spectacles by what is a fuzzy shape whom I assume to be an employee stocking shelves. He smiles (at least as much as I can see a smile behind his mask and through the condensation on my lenses), “Good morning. Let me know if you need anything.”

I grunt in recognition of his friendliness, and grumble, “No, we’re fine. Thank you,” and proceed through the “Wall of Values,” loading parmesan cheese and tuna into our cart.

In the produce section, I’m searching through the tomatoes, when a worker in that department says, “Wait, I’ve got a whole box of new tomatoes that just arrived. Let me get those for you. They’re fresher.”

“Thank you,” I reply as he shuffles the boxes, putting the newest arrival on the top.

“You’re welcome. If you’re going to have vegetables, they might as well be fresh, right?”

“Can’t argue with you there,” says I. “Damn, he’s pulling me out of my bad mood,” I think. I want to be crabby in the morning and the employees at the store don’t understand that.

With each wave of a worker or shelf-stocker — who are more abundant than other employees at this time of the morning — my mood lifts, culminating when an employee passes me in the cheese section and asks, “Can I get you anything?”

I can’t help myself and playfully reply, “Peace in my lifetime.” It’s a standard response I use when I want to get a chuckle, which it does. Quickly, he retorts, “Aisle five, next to eternal life.”

It was my turn to laugh. Despite my best attempts at remaining a sour puss, I couldn’t do it.

I realized what I already know: Attitude is contagious.

I’ve conducted workshops, seminars, and keynote speeches country-wide on this topic. This column that you’re reading oft-times deals with that very subject. It’s nothing new to me. Yet, there it was, in the flesh, actually happening.

By the time I exited the store (yes, the motion-sensitive doors worked), I was feeling much better; I might go so far as to say I was in a good mood.

What happened? Just some friendly exchanges with a few fellow humans who happened to be willing to play.

Many times, I’m the teacher. This time, between the fat-free plain Greek yogurt and the cottage cheese, I found out I was the student.

(Despite it all, I’m still not looking forward to our next grocery-store trip, but I’ll have a better attitude when I go.)

About the author: Scott “Q” Marcus is a professional speaker, motivator, and coach as well as the founder of the Facebook group: Intentions • Affirmations • Manifestations. He leads zoom inspirational, practical workshops on the first and third Tuesday of each month. Find out more via his mailing list at www.ThisTimeIMeanIt.com/signup. He will be leading a national series of workshops called “Hacking Your Habits” starting April 6. Find out more at www.ThisTimeIMeanIt.com/HYH

Celebrating Tough Times

January 27, 2021 By Scott "Q" Marcus

I can’t remember times as difficult as these, and I’ve been around the sun a few dozen times.

I — as well as you if you’re over 65 — am closer to the age of 100 than to the age of 30.

That is a truly remarkable thought when you let it sink in. I mean, remember, we were told not to trust anyone over 30 because they were “over the hill.” Looking at it through the eyes of immortal teens, 30 just seemed so, well, “old.” Of course, that decade flashed by in an instant, and at 40, we started to feel like grown-ups. Then, came the fifties, bifocals, a slightly expanded paunch, planning for retirement, and adult children (who were also fearing 30). Before you could say “I can now take money from my IRA without penalty,” the sixties knocked on the door.

It is the cycle of life. Despite magical thinking and a healthy dose of denial, to all, it finds its way.

Yet, again, as I’m sure for you too, aging doesn’t mean I’m going to curl up in a ball and wait for the grim reaper to knock on my door. I’m still vital and active. I still have dreams. After COVID has become a thing of the past, I will be on the road again, radio blasting, singing to my old faves as I head down that long ribbon of highway, hugging and visiting the people and places I’ve so missed.

As far as I know, I’ve still got several years ahead of me, so I’m back in school, studying a philosophy most of us equate with the “Law of Attraction.”

As a requirement for the class, we are required to journal regularly; something I’ve never done consistently.

Don’t misunderstand. I obviously like writing; this column in many ways is somewhat of a public journal. What holds me back is that I don’t like to write with a pen on paper. My mom wanted me to be a doctor; I learned to write as sloppily as one, but that’s as far as I got. So, to that end, if I record my thoughts in a journal, I won’t be able to decipher my hen scratches when I want to read them. I simply write too quickly, as I’m trying to keep up with my brain, which goes into overdrive. Should I slow down, while I’d be able to read it, my thoughts would evaporate before they got to paper; an empty journal is tragic.

Moreover, what happens if I have a life-changing revelation and my diary is not with me? Future generations will be deprived of my brilliance because I left my journal at home. How horrible would that be!

So, the obvious solution for a perfectionist like me who cannot do it perfectly? Don’t write.

Of late, however, I discovered the glories of an electronic journal, Day One, which syncs to all my mobile devices, computer, and even my watch. It allows me to record and tag my thoughts at any time, automatically logging the date, time, location, and even the weather at that moment. I can attach photos or images should I so choose.

One literally thought-provoking built-in feature is it asks a daily question, ranging from “what is your dream chocolate bar?” to “what happens when you die?” [Read more…]