Attitude Contagion

xxxMarch 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

Imagining Better

xxxFebruary 24, 2021 by Scott "Q" Marcus

We’ve all heard the expression, “It’s hard to remember that your objective was to drain the swamp when you are waist-deep in alligators.”

We have been battering alligators and hunkered down in crisis mode for way too long.

According to Wikipedia, John F. Kennedy, our 35^th president, incorrectly stated in a campaign that the Chinese symbol for “crisis” (危機)is made up of two words: “danger” and “opportunity”. (As it turns out, the two words are better represented by “danger” and “changepoint” although Google’s translation page breaks them down to “danger” and “machine”.)

It appears that finally, after way too long, the sun is timidly peeking its healing rays over the horizon and a new world is rising.

Although a long road lies yet ahead, we are gradually evolving into this new era, wearily struggling to heal the bruises and scars brought upon us by too many crises in too short of a time.

Whatever the etymology of “crisis,” it is indeed a period of introspection and an opening to shake things up; in essence, to design a new normal.

After all, if we always do what we’ve always done, we’ll always be where we’ve always been. Speaking for you, me, and the guy down the street, I am convinced none of us want to re-experience another 2020.

On social media, a meme is making the rounds. It shows a photo of a handwritten note; on it is penned, “Nothing should go back to normal. Normal wasn’t working. If we go back to the way things were, we will have lost the lesson. May we rise up and do better.”

In reply to my posting of the meme, a friend commented, “…sounds like you didn’t like your life… I sure in the hell want mine back!” Although well-intentioned I’m sure, that misses the bigger point.

Firstly, we’re never returning to “normal,” however that’s defined.

What we experienced last year – and continue to do so — is a tectonic plate paradigm shift in how we live. The culture of 2025 will be as different from 2015 as 2015 is from 1965. Whether that’s “good” or “bad” or simply “is” can be debated but the profound influences that a pandemic, economic crash, urban turmoil, and the most divisive election and aftermath in the last 100 years cannot be swept under the rug. Those influences are now in our DNA, never to leave us.

Yes, I miss being in plays, traveling, meeting friends at coffee shops, going to services with my congregation on Sundays, eating at restaurants, and not having to mask up or avoid others when I walk down the street. And Lord almighty, do I miss hugs. Of course, I crave those and want them back.

But as stated, disasters bring opportunities and we have to admit that the old system, whatever that was, was not working on lots of levels. After all, if it was, we wouldn’t be where we are now.

So, to that end, in the belief that we each contribute to the future by what we each envision, I’m posting my wish-list of a future “new normal.” [Read more…]

Celebrating Tough Times

xxxJanuary 27, 2021 by Scott "Q" Marcus Leave a Comment

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…]

Is it Fear or is it Excitement?

xxxSeptember 30, 2020 by Scott "Q" Marcus

As if we need yet another way to divide us, I’m going to do it anyway.

There are two types of people in the world: Those who enjoy roller coasters, and those who would rather have sharp object pierce their eyeballs. The difference between is how each rider labels what is happening in their body as they are being hurled over the amusement park’s grounds at 80 miles per hour. As each exits the ride onto the platform, those who enjoyed the experience are screaming in glee, “My God! That was amazing!” Conversely, the others too are yelling: “My God! That was terrifying!”

Upon giving thought to the reactions, the reality is they both experienced the same events, possibly even sitting next to each other. Each viewed the same sights; felt the wind racing across their skin; faced (literally) the identical ups and downs at the same precise periods. Their bodies felt equivalent forces acting on them; heart rates elevated; breathing increased and shallow; g-forces pushing on them without a difference.

The only variance was whether they labeled those sensations as “fear” or as “excitement”

In that word, lies all the difference.

Excitement is anticipatory; propelling us forward with a sense of awe and an expectation of positive results forthcoming; our senses are heightened. Excitement triggers creativity, sparking us to ask of ourselves, “What if…?” From such analysis, inspired energy explodes outward, saturating our views with the prospect of what might be. Excitement spreads outward, embraces the next; moving us eagerly, joyfully, expectantly, and fully aware into new experiences.

Fear, on the other hand, is protective; alerting us to – in reality, or perception –pending danger. Of course, that triggers the fight or – most likely – flight response. Physically and emotionally, we shrink, hunkering down, seeking shelter with a laser focus, ignoring all that surrounds us. We desperately hunt for avenues to extricate ourselves from what we perceive as a threat, our one and only objective — overpowering all else — is “make it stop.” Nothing else matters.

Neither emotion is good nor bad; they simply are.

Without the cautionary voice of fear, we would not survive. Without excitement, we do not thrive nor love nor grow; we merely exist.

You might be saying, “That’s all well and good, but I don’t care what you call it, there’s no way I’m getting into a rickety, coffin-shaped mechanism and allowing myself to be hurled at excessive speeds up and down a skinny metal track while secured only by a bar and a belt. Call it what you wish, that’s just nuts.”

Yet the implications of understanding the difference between these two twin-sibling emotions can make all the difference in the path of our lives. As I’ve said oft-times, “What we say to ourselves determines what we do to ourselves.” To that end, let’s move it into the real world of 2020.

I’ll own up to being frightened; there is much to be fearful about. I don’t want to get COVID; it strikes terror in me. I am filled with consternation about financial collapse and not being able to survive well and easily into my later years. I am deeply dismayed at the level of discourse and violence shattering our country. I shudder at the affront shown to vulnerable populations. I am anxious about our planet; I know Earth will survive – but will we? I am upset about the world in which future generations will be raised. There is much to be worried about.

I am scared. I admit it. I own it. And when I so focus, I, by default, contract, hopeless, stagnant, hunkered down, immobile; a passenger in my own life.

Yet, I also know that from pain births greatness.

I don’t understand why they have to be related but I accept that they are. While admittedly timorous, the prospect of cooperative peoples overcoming climate change, injustice, and financial inequity fills me with hope. I can imagine a world where we live in balance with our environment, where disagreement is resolved civilly and respectfully, and those elected ‑— via free and fair contests — seek only the betterment of all concerned. That prospect is exciting.

Of course, I don’t know how it will turn out. Both are formless futures. Yet, together they reside in possibility at the same time, neither path locked in. Should I paint tomorrow with the hues of “excitement,” I will move forward toward that vision. Should I brand it as “fear,” I shall remain stagnant, allowing that vision to manifest.

One day, we’ll exit this ride, one way or another. When we place our feet firmly or shakily onto the platform, what will be the conclusion of the statement: “My God, that was…”?

The choice is ours.

About the author: Scott “Q” Marcus is a professional speaker and founder of www.ThisTimeIMeanIt.com, where he can be contacted for coaching, consulting, and presentations. During this social distancing period, he is conducting monthly on-line workshops on setting goals and getting past what holds you back. You can find out more at www.ThisTimeIMeanIt.com/intentions

Message of Encouragement

xxxSeptember 16, 2020 by Scott "Q" Marcus Leave a Comment

These are troubling times, to say the least.

We are confronting the most widespread, extensive, global health emergency in at least 100 years. Our economy is staggering like a boxer battered into delirium. Opinions have become “facts.” Social unrest is boiling. Political “discourse” (such as it is), centered around the removal or retention of arguably the most controversial, divisive, polarizing administration anyone can remember; has devolved to that of a couple of three-year-olds shouting “You’re a poo-poo head!” “No, your face is!” It feels like we’re together, untethered in a 1950s rusty, claptrap old school bus; sans seatbelts, careening down a potholed mountain roadway, out of control, hanging on for dear life while screaming in terror for someone to save us as we hurl towards a cliff on November 3. We’re hoping we don’t go over the edge; assuming all will eventually be okay. Yet, that grating, inner voice refuses to shut up, saying, “Don’t get your hopes up” continues to grow louder. I just want it all to stop.

But wait, there’s more!

Ghia, Mother Earth, is facing an existential crisis, resulting in unending firestorms, relentless flooding, bone dry draughts, and – in general – exceptionally severe weather, which is devastating property and lives (including non-human) on an unprecedented global level. (For the record, I long to live in a world where the word, “unprecedented” is no longer a standard adjective.)

The vise-grip, chest-squeezing, anxiety-producing catalog of happenings has us on hairpin triggers, damaging our collective and emotional physical, and mental health. For those of us who can remember it, 1968 is a Disney fairy tale compared to the Stephen King horror story of 2020. No one – not a single person alive today – has lived through an upheaval like this ever. Not one of us.

Of course, I don’t need to tell you that. You see it. You feel it. You’re living it, just as am I.

As goes the curse, we are living in “fascinating” times. It’s challenging to hold hope high when even the sky is covered in a thick blanket of burnt smoke.

Yet, a flicker crossed my mind.

[Read more…]

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