gratitude

Looking Back – And Looking Ahead

January 9, 2019 By Scott "Q" Marcus

The holidays were behind her; decorations stuffed in the attic until next year.

She liked gussying up the living room every December, but there was also a sense of relief once the house was restored to a less chaotic, more familiar décor.

Breathing in the return to normalcy while sitting on a weathered wood bench on the back deck, a cool breeze gently tussled her hair; causing her to pull tighter around her neck the red fleece sweatshirt; raising the zipper high to help block the chill. With both hands clamped around the mug of hot tea between her palms, she savored its radiance as it emanated from the ceramic, warming not only her hands but her soul. Try as she might, she had not been able to find a flavored tea that replaced the bold satisfaction of morning coffee, but tea didn’t impact her stomach unfavorably. “Ah, the sacrifices one makes to Geras,” she thought, amusingly surprised that she remembered the name of the Greek God of Aging.

She sighed and redirected her attentiveness to the untidy back plank fence bordered by weeds attempting to reclaim their space. “The back yard really needs attention,” she considered, but knew there were yet several more weeks of winter and nothing would get done until the gray cleared and the rain stopped.

“No need to concern myself with that now…” Her thoughts drifted and she trailed, letting them lead wherever they might stroll.

“Another new year,” she mused, holding tighter the mug, hoping to claim a bit more heat. She pondered what was in store for the coming months.

She didn’t make resolutions; they were merely repeating the unkept promises she of last year; as she tried to catch up with those from the year prior, which were actually tasks undone from the year before that. At some point, why bother? “Just do your best and keep moving forward,” was as close to a New Year’s resolution as she came.

Yet, the newness of another January was not lost on her. With the changing of the calendar, there came a freshness, a bloom of new possibility for the time ahead. A clean slate was laid out in front of her, what would she do with it?

It was getting harder to say she was still “middle aged;” after all, few folks make it to 120. Was this where she expected to be in her sixties? She contemplated that for a moment and realized she didn’t have an answer. Was it a myth that some kids knew exactly who whey wanted to be from their first day? That had never been who she was; instead following a more meandering road.

“Retirement, what a concept,” she thought.

Many of her close friends, after having spent decades in a nine-to-five, walled off behind a cubicle; were now starting to collect pensions. Some were traveling, or spending times with grandkids — or both. Others pursued long-hibernating passions they had put on hold since their twenties. A twinge of envy flittered across her emotional horizon; there would be no retirement party for her, her course would continue until she decided it was at its end. And even then, what would that look like? Would she simply wake up one morning and declare, “I’m now officially retired,” awarding herself a watch and a cake?

“Did I really choose this?” she asked herself, “Or did I just let it happen?”

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she recalled the choices that brought her to this place. What if she would have finished college instead of pursuing her craft? How about if she had married someone wealthy? Everything would have been different, she pondered, a pinch of melancholy seasoning her mood.

A song drifted across her thoughts, something about a woman who died and was sweating her interview with Saint Peter, who was going to look up in some colossal journal every decision — good or bad — that she ever did, and then decree where she will spend all eternity. “Will I have done enough to get into Heaven?” the singer wondered. Enter the chorus: “There’s nothing I can do about it now.” Might as well relax; it’s too late to change it.

“Yep, nothing I can do about it now,” she reminded herself and exhaled deeply the tension that she didn’t realize she was even carrying until that moment.

Whether planned or not, no one could argue that she was her own woman; traveling her own road; pursuing her own dreams; following her own uncharted course. She assumed there yet more twists and turns ahead; in those lie possibilities and dreams. “Who knows what’s in store? I might yet be in for some exciting times.”

Her elderly orange cat, tired of being ignored, hopped onto her lap, brushed its head against the warm mug and snuggled into her lap, purring loudly. Transferring the mug into one hand, she stroked the cat’s fur as they both stared out into the dreary, unkept lawn.

“Life is good. Thank you,” she said to no one in particular, and smiled as she sipped some tea. “Not a bad flavor at all…”

About the author: Scott “Q” Marcus is the CRP (Chief Recovering Perfectionist) of www.ThisTimeIMeanIt.com. He is available for coaching, speaking, and reminders of what really matters at 707.442.6243, scottq@scottqmarcus.com or www.facebook.com/ThisTimeIMeanIt.

A Month of Gratitude

November 21, 2018 By Scott "Q" Marcus

Almost everyone is into challenges these days.

If you own a fitness monitor, no doubt you are well aware of them: “Mary M challenges you to the workday hustle.” Because I have such a device, I receive challenges constantly. (For the record, I don’t accept them. Please don’t invite me.)

Recently, the craze which spread across the globe was the Ice Bucket Challenge. In this seemingly masochistic event, a bucket of ice and water was dumped over a person’s head to promote awareness of ALS (amyotrophic lateral sclerosis) and encourage donations. I was never sure the relationship between them, but, what the heck, it was for a good cause.

At the risk of being judgmental (okay, I’ll own it; I am judging), some challenges are simply downright weird. As illustration, the “eat it or wear it challenge,” where participants each place one food into one of a series of numbered paper bags. A bowl with folded slips of numbered paper, each corresponding to a bag, is passed among the contributors and each takes a turn choosing a number. He or she then has to either eat a spoonful of the food in that bag, or must wear said food. Yep, you read that right. It’s weird, isn’t it?

Anyway, tips to make this more stimulating include choosing foodstuffs such as baby food, hot sauce, and horseradish. The question remains, “Why would anyone do this?” Unsure. However, it’s safe to assume a prerequisite for this challenge is possession of way too much time on one’s hands, and a worrisome lack of culinary and fashion senses.

That said, I have a challenge for you. Don’t worry, you won’t have to protect your clothing.

Step 1: Take a deep breath, relax your posture; loosen your muscles, and settle yourself down. (Go ahead; do that now; I’ll wait).

Step 2: Think of something for which you are grateful. It matters not what it is. Feel it deeply; let it flow over you like a warm shower.

Step 3: Try and feel angry, frustrated, or sad while you feel grateful.

Can’t do it, huh? I knew that. It’s impossible to feel bad when you feel thankful. It can’t be done. Period. Gratitude and anxiety cannot exist in the same sphere; only one will survive.

So, to that end, as we enter the last month of the year, I figured — ever being the helper — that I’d provide a catalogue of reasons to stimulate gratitude; 31 of them to be exact, one for each day. Feel free to add your own.

I am grateful for…

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What Makes One Happy?

August 15, 2018 By Scott "Q" Marcus

Sometimes, life is just plain freakin’ glorious.

Sitting next to a loved one, inhaling deeply the cool air of an autumn night while watching the sun slip soundlessly over the horizon, casting shades of red, orange, yellow in a broad fan across the sky, backlighting the clouds; can it really get better than that?

Sure, I guess it could. But if life consisted of an unending string of moments such as those, why go to Heaven? It’s all right here.

Actually, when you think about it, our lives are probably pretty good more times than they’re not.

I mean, yeah, “stuff” happens; into every life some crap must fall and all that. But, really, unless life has dealt you unending sucker punches, those moments are thankfully scattered.

To that end, I’ve stolen a line from one of my favorite talk show hosts, Thom Hartmann. When a caller gets on the line, they many times robotically ask, “How are you?” Mr. Hartmann’s reply — which I’ve now commandeered — is “I’m great, but I’ll get better.” Try it sometimes. Others find it perplexing. Oft times only hearing “I’ll get better,” they’ll react, “Oh, I’m sorry to hear things aren’t going well.” If they actually pay attention, in many instances, I’ll get a chuckle. Yet, mostly, they just don’t know how to handle it; no one says how great things are. It’s just not done.

So, why do we so often downplay the beauty and exhilaration that is this thing called “Life?”

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Living A Life Entirely Surrounded by Love

May 23, 2018 By Scott "Q" Marcus

Most of us don’t want to think about dying.

That news won’t garner a banner headline anywhere.

I’d go so far as to say we desperately attempt to sidestep the notion at all costs, illustrated in part by a society that’s fixated on youth and beauty, while ignoring the loveliness and wisdom ushered in by aging. A disavowal of our mortality is not necessarily a “bad thing;” it could be argued that to function on our day-to-day activities, we require a healthy dose of denial about our end. After all, if we spent too much time thinking about it, we’d never get anything done, rationalizing our dithering with, “Why bother? It’s all futile anyway.”

Yet, there’s no avoiding the Grim Reaper.

At a “certain age,” we need to pull back the curtain and face him, planning for his inescapable arrival. For whether we do or do not, he visits us all.

Recently, I attended a presentation by Dr. Michael Fratkin, director and founder of Resolution Care. In full disclosure, I actually met the good doctor years back as he and I shared the platform at a TEDx event. Back then, prior to establishing Resolution Care, he referred to himself as “a midwife for people on the way out.” Else stated, Dr. Fratkin specializes in the field of palliative care, a specific medical regimen for people with serious illnesses. Although not the same as hospice treatment, it’s my understanding that there is more than a small amount of overlap.

I’ll circle back to our meeting in a moment.

Watching Dr. Fratkin last week, it’s clear that he is the type of medical practitioner in short supply, exuding a warmth and genuineness that puts one at ease immediately; a trait important in any vocation, absolutely essential when dealing with frightened and suffering people (whom he refused to call “patients”). I was captivated by his empathy — I’d go so far as to say, “spirituality” — an attribute one doesn’t often associate with medical doctors.

His talk, although dealing with a frightening subject, actually offered a sense of relief. After all, we’re all on the freeway but few of us know what the offramp looks like. Dr. Fratkin gave us a road map, relaying the experiences and sensations of innumerable souls he has counseled on this path.

When I first heard Dr. Fratkin speak at the TEDx event, one of my clearer memories is a story of a woman about to give birth. What made her narrative so unlike those of countless others is that she and her family knew that their baby — due to a problem in the womb — would barely survive its birth. Dr. Fratkin relayed the account of the family nonetheless decorating the delivery room with balloons, flowers, and a “Welcome” banner. The entire clan was in attendance, despite knowing its soon-to-be tragic outcome.

Raven entered the world, and — as with any newborn — was embraced with joy, hugs, celebration, and comfort. One hour later she passed.

As they say, “there was not a dry eye in the house;” one could hear sobs from several people. “How sad,” thought we, “How can one have the strength to celebrate an experience so saturated with pain, loss, and disappointment?”

Dr. Fratkin continued (paraphrased), “You’re not seeing the whole picture. Imagine this from Raven’s point-of-view. What would YOUR life be like if — from the moment you were born until the second you died — you were totally, completely, one hundred percent immersed in love? All you understood, for your entire time on this planet, was Love. You had no fear, no judgement, no regrets. You were born, existed wholly in Love, and then passed. Can you conceive what that would be like?”

I can’t – but I’d like to try.

Sadly, it’s too late to say our lives have been exclusively encircled in Love.

We’ve been taken advantage of, let down, disappointed, hurt, insulted, taunted, and frightened.

If one looks at it a certain way, one might say Raven was blessed.

There’s nothing we can do about what has transpired. In my stronger, more balanced, mentally-healthier moments, I might go so far as to say they have helped shape us well. Nope, can’t go backwards… Yet, we can affect our present and our future, and that of those we know and will yet meet.

There is no situation where mixing in more Love and caring will make it worse, no matter how little or short-lived.

About the author: Scott “Q” Marcus is a THINspirational speaker and author. Since losing 70 pounds over 23 years ago, he conducts speeches, workshops, and presentations. He also coaches individuals and consults with companies on how to implement and handle change. He can be reached at www.ThisTimeIMeanIt.com or 707.442.6243.

Aging – The Ultimate Blessing

May 9, 2018 By Scott "Q" Marcus

I’ve heard tell that one indication of creative, intelligent people is that we get bored easily.

Whether true or not, I’ll gleefully use that as my justification for why I’ve traveled so many roads on my career journey. Whereby I haven’t necessarily been “a puppet, a pauper, a pirate, a poet, a pawn and a king,” I’ve dabbled at many an occupation.

Because of that, it’s difficult for me to answer the question,

“What do you do for a living?” So, over the years, I’ve developed the reply, “I’m an ILEMAB consultant.”

“What’s that?” comes the usual reply.

“It’s an acronym: If it’s Legal, Ethical, and Makes A Buck, I’ll give it a shot.” It’s probably the most accurate description of how I earn my keep – and it has the added benefit of getting a chuckle.

There are advantages and disadvantages to our choices.

On the pro side of the ledger, my mishmash collection of vocational selections meant I rarely got bored; absorbed a boatload of skills, met an extensive diversity of people; traveled more than most — and had the autonomy to spend virtually whatever time I’ve wanted with friends and family. No regrets about those.

On the down side, many of my associates who chose more traditional pathways are now retiring. I know me; I could not have worked at one organization for decades; and wholeheartedly salute those who did – wishing for them wonder, peace and love on the next phase of their voyage. I am beyond delighted to see those I care about have the freedom I’ve had for so long. They so deserve it.

The distinction is that they’re receiving pensions – a security unknown to me.

Therein lies the rub. Nobody will ever throw a retirement party for yours truly; no assemblage of long-term co-workers with whom I’ve shared office space for the last 40 years will gather to bid me well as I move on; if I’m to own a gold watch emblazoned with “Congratulations Retiree!” I shall have to order it myself.

My “retirement” – whatever that is – will appear as a whimper, not a bang.

Don’t break out the world’s smallest violin; I’m not complaining, more accurately, I’m confused. I don’t even know what “retirement” looks like. I’m not the type to sit around on a rocking chair on the back porch, golf doesn’t interest me, and I don’t have grandkids on which I can dote (sigh…)

Yet, the time is nigh.

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