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Getting Though It – What Will the Future Be?

March 18, 2020 by Scott "Q" Marcus Leave a Comment

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Last week, I forecast that within a week the 1,000 United States COVID cases and the 120,000 international cases would seem nostalgic.

Sadly, they are; everyone saw that coming. I’m not a soothsayer. Oh-so-seven days ago, states were floating the concept of limiting gatherings to 250-500 people. How quaint is that? Seniors were outside; the Bay Area was bustling; coffee shops, diners, and bars were open for business.

Oh, what a difference makes one week.

Currently the U.S. now has 7,668 cases with 117 deaths. The world count has risen to 212,799 with 8,787 people succumbing. It is recommended that those of us 65+ “self-isolate,” a term utterly unknown but a few weeks past. Recommendations are that we limit crowds to fewer than ten. Pubs, restaurants and eateries are shuttered. The markets are off approximately 35 percent from their highs, companies are failing, average people — like you and me — are without income. San Francisco is closed. Hospital ships are being sent to New York and the West Coast.

Four to five days from now, this might read like sentimental history.

I am case-closed certain that I am not the only person who feels like he or she has been transported into a sci-fi, environmental, economic, post-apocalyptic, end-of-times, action-adventure movie for which I did not audition; nor did I have any interest in being cast. Certainly, soon, the credits will roll, house lights will come up, and we can rise from our seats and leave the theater; a great idea if movie houses were even open for business.

If someone would have written this as a plot for a movie, it wouldn’t have been green-lit. No one would believe it.

Nonetheless, here we are. There’s no sugar coating it; things appear dire.

So, now that I’ve harshed your mellow, let’s look at where we go from here.

Recently, I heard an eloquent, simple analysis of how we react. It went approximately like this: Something happens; we create a story about its meaning; that story in turn creates our reality, and therefore what we believe is possible or not. In effect, “What we say to ourselves determines what we do to ourselves.”

Don’t misinterpret; this is scary stuff. Real lives are being affected. Some people will not survive, others will suffer long term economic and physical damage. Thinking positively and placing our hands on our chests, closing our eyes, and chanting “Om”, will not eradicate the virus nor heal the economy.

Yet, while we gingerly, one-step-in-front of the other, shakily traverse the swaying rope bridge from what was to what will be, it is essential we keep first and foremost the notion that we will emerge from this fiery, molten, hellscape. The terrain in which we will find ourselves will be shaped by how we think now, today, as we struggle to endure. We need to examine the thoughts and beliefs — in effect, the stories — we are telling ourselves; if we are going to find our way to a better place.

To that end, some thoughts to remember.

[Read more…]

This Time, We Are All Thai

July 4, 2018 by Scott "Q" Marcus Leave a Comment

I really was planning to put out a brand-spanking new column today.

However, as my grandmother used to say,

“Man plans, God laughs.”

At least this time, I’m laughing with optimism, not cynicism.

In case you’ve missed it, a dozen Thai boys, aged 11 to 16, and their coach, disappeared when flooding trapped them in a cave a few weeks ago. After a desperate ten-day search, in what can be described as no less than a miracle, they’ve been found, surviving in an air pocket half a mile underground and 1½ miles into the cave. All things considered, they’re healthy.

That’s the good news.

“We found them safe. But the operation isn’t over,” said the governor of the province. The divers who discovered them had to make their way through a byzantine, water-filled up-and-down passageway which is extremely narrow, making it difficult for them to even fit through it with their gear. They were repeatedly blocked by rising water that filled sections of the cave and forced them to withdraw. Nonetheless, they persevered.

The boys however are not trained for such arduous work; none of them knowing how to swim, yet alone dive. Therefore, figuring out their escape plan is problematic. It is estimated that they might have to live underground for weeks — or even months — while a strategy to extract them is developed.

We’re not out of the woods — or more accurately, cave — quite yet.

In following this story, the feeling I have, is mostly of hope. Yet, despite literally thousands of people working 24/7 to bring these young men topside, the road home is as complicated as the tunnels that must be navigated for safe return.

In October, 2010 the entire world watched as 33 Chilean trapped miners emerged to safety. Ironically (or maybe not) the “attitudinal climate” back then paralleled today’s. Therefore, I can only hope and affirm that the outcome in 2018 will also be the same. I believe that if we can picture such a result, we too will be able to cheer collectively the good news we know is waiting to happen.

Back then, our “leaders” (quotation marks necessary) were acting with a prevalence of boorish, childish, self-absorbed behaviors (sound familiar?). Political discourse then — and now — once considered noble and eloquent, had degraded to what one would overhear between bullies in a kindergarten sandbox.

Virtually nothing positive seems to have been accomplished.

The rivalries endure, even harsher. Our planet hurts. More people suffer. Has anything changed?

When I originally wrote of the mineworkers, after having been trapped 70 days in a Chilean mine, they were being hoisted, one by one, through a narrow tube, from half mile underground, to the loving embrace of friends, family, and an enrapt world. To survive, they supported, encouraged, and counseled each other. In a place literally as close to Hell as any humans have ever existed, their better Angels held forth.

When Florencio Avalos, the first to emerge, exited the wire cage that brought him topside, the entire world was Chilean. We felt the embrace of his wife and the relief of his child. We cried tears of joy as he breathed in fresh air for the first time in over two months. We shared the bear hug with the Chilean president and our chests swelled with pride while the crowd chanted “Chi-Chi-Chi! Le-Le-Le!” With each man’s emergence from 622 meters below the Atacama Desert, we willingly experienced it — more accurately, longed for it — again and again and again.

From tragedy rose hope, like the Phoenix capsule in which the miners emerged into the Chilean sun.

They survived, in no small part, because they knew they were one; a lesson oft overlooked.

Now, again, we wait. This drama plays out half-a-world distant. Their nationality, race and ages are as dissimilar from each other as are the climates in which they live. Yet, we — each of us, all of us — yearns for the same outcome as that which took place south of the equator almost a decade past.

In our present environment, we NEED for these dozen young men to emerge, blinking in the sun, embraced by family; virtually by the entire world. Our days are so dark, we’re counting on good news. Until that happens — and I know it will because I manage to retain my faith in the Human Spirit — we need to be reminded to be more grateful for what we have. Personally, I might not like the fog, but at least I can hold my wife’s hand and walk freely into it whenever I choose.

Today, we are all Thai.

About the author: Scott “Q” Marcus is a THINspirational speaker and author. Since losing 70 pounds over 23 years ago, he works with overloaded people and organizations who are looking to improve communication, change bad habits, and reduce stress. He can be reached for consulting, workshops, or presentations at 707.442.6243 or scottq@scottqmarcus.com. He will sometimes work in exchange for chocolate.

Mea Culpa: I Was Unkind (or Was I)?

April 11, 2018 by Scott "Q" Marcus Leave a Comment

“Where do you want me? Under the macramé plant hanger? Really? Didn’t avocado green shag go out in the seventies? All right, all right, I get it! Now is the not the time to be snarky. Just tell me where to go.”

I’ve been called on the carpet.

Recently, I published political opinion on social media. Although posting often, I tend to swerve away from politics for what will shortly become apparent.

Summed up, I catalogued a list of adjectives I felt portrayed one of our politicians.

I’ll own up to the fact that it was less than complementary. However, in my defense, I chose only clearly defined descriptors, veering away from words which criticized physical traits, instead targeting behaviors – which can be transformed. So, as example, I didn’t use the expression “stupid”; a derogatory, extremely judgmental, non-defensible term for someone lacking intelligence. Rather, opting for “ignorant,” meaning uneducated; a state of being that can be remedied if so chosen. Selecting watchfully, I picked words based on measurable, modifiable behaviors. As a mentor of mine said, “Judge the verb, not the noun.”

Most of the responses — as expected — echoed my sentiment; after all, they’re my “friends.” A few folks disagreed. For the most part, they were respectful (kinda…) I countered, in the interest of opening dialog (well, truth be told, also to defend my position).

I expected dissent. What I didn’t foresee was a very simple observation from a long-term reader of this column who stated, “aren’t you the guy who believes in kindness first?”

Ouch. Don’t you hate having principles?

As much as I disliked having to admit it, he might be correct.

How could I defend my post while still remaining true to my belief? At first blush, the two appeared at loggerheads.

It’s easy to be a person of integrity when everyone shares your values; the test comes when challenged logically and respectfully. His post triggered no small amount of consternation, causing me to question, “Is it unkind to point out someone’s flaws?” [Read more…]

Personal Confession

March 28, 2018 by Scott "Q" Marcus Leave a Comment

Since I started writing these columns oh so long ago, I’ve had several objectives.

First, I wanted them to be of value to you; I didn’t want to vomit a bunch of words on a page assuming that merely because it’s in print, it’s worth your time. That’s delusional and ego-centric; I wish to be neither.

Next, I wanted them to inspire when needed and provide a laugh when possible.

Finally, and as important; they needed to be honest. In other words, I would be transparent, doing my best to be who I am really am so that the person you might meet on the street is the same guy you read in print. The way I look at, if shame was transformational, we’d all be soaring across the heavens. Take a look around, it doesn’t work.

Putting all that on the table, I was reticent about this piece because it’s something with which I’ve wrestled for too long, keeping it in a dark, backroom closet. Will you think less of me if I expose this to the sun? Will you wag your finger, shake your head judgmentally, tsk loudly, and say, “I’m so ashamed of you”? Odd, isn’t it, how that perceived — not necessarily actual — reactions weigh so heavily?

Finally, I decided, “Screw it. If that’s the way you’re going to be, there’s nothing I can do about it. Stick to my truth. After all, as the song says, ‘if you don’t stand for something, you’ll fall for anything.’”

So, here goes.

I haven’t had anything with alcohol in it for a month.

There, I’ve said it. It’s in the world; no taking it back now. [Read more…]

Twenty Two Years – One Step at a Time

September 21, 2016 by Scott "Q" Marcus Leave a Comment

In September 1993, the thing for men was silk long-sleeve shirts hiked to the elbow, and bold, brightly colored ties.

Radio stations played The River of Dreams by Billy Joel, Runaway Train by Soul Asylum, and Reason to Believe by Rod Stewart. True Romance, A Bronx Tale and The Joy Luck Club flickered on movie screens. Television’s offerings included Murphy Brown, Roseanne, and Seinfeld. The Internet – as we know it now – didn’t exist. Email was in its infancy (but I’m sure there was spam). Our president was Bill Clinton with Tom Foley as the Speaker of the House. Finally, news stories included PLO leader Yasser Arafat and Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin shaking hands; and the continued legal fallout from the Branch Davidian standoff in Waco.

The biggest news story in my world was my 39th birthday on September 28 and that my life was careening out of control.

I suffered from severe back and chest pains; my finances were a mess; my marriage was hanging by a thread — and I topped the scales at 250 pounds. Taking self-inventory, I came to the shocking realization that what was in common among all these difficulties was me; I had become my own enemy.

From past experience, I knew that my canary in the coalmine was my eating.

When I got that under control, everything else fell in place. But if you added up all the weight I had lost (and then regained) over the course of my not-quite-forty-years, I’m sure it would have been in the thousands. I had even helped others lose weight. Yet, I always regained it, reverted to old habits over time.

Defeated, overwhelmed, and hopeless – but seeing no alternatives — I opted to try “one last time,” promising myself that by September 28, 1994, I’d be “fit, fun, and fiscally sound.”

It was that despair that led me to action. I went to a meeting; I reached out.

A small step, yes, but still it was movement. When I entered the room, I wanted to fall through a hole in the floor. It took every ounce of will I could muster to prevent from turning and running to the nearest bakery.

Yet I stayed; one more small step.