What inspires you to read, reflect, and journal (or blog)?

Reflection - Mt. Fuji, Fujikawaguchiko, Yamanashi, Japan - Circa May 2016

The following is an MS Teams conversation with a colleague after learning that we each enjoy reading, reflection and writing: 

T: What inspires you to read, reflect, and journal (or blog)? 

J: I think I was inspired to read by just my curiosity of everything in the world. In my past, I never read that much. I only started reading heavily in the last maybe 3-4 years. Instead of reading, I traveled a lot. I learned a lot that way, from talking to people, observing, feeling, and experiencing. But as I grow older, my responsibilities grow and so travel (although I still do it often) is now not as often as I would want it to be. Reading (specifically non-fiction) has kind of opened up those other avenues to learning and education about things foreign to me while I cannot travel as much.

Reflection is something pretty new to me too. I only really started reflecting on my life when I took a sabbatical from work. That really allowed me to take time to think of my past and my future in great detail. I started to understand better what I was doing, why I was doing things, and what I could do to change or improve my future. The reflection is so important now. I feel like if I didn't have that time (sabbatical) to reflect, then I wouldn't have grown in all the ways I feel like I've grown in the past 5 years. I was out of work for nearly 2 years.

The journaling and blogging has always been a part of my life. My dad used to journal when I was a kid. I grew up on notebook journals and writing events down. I had a calendar that I would just fill in all the boxes with tidbits. So I always did these little things, albeit not as consistently as now. But now I find that my blogging has allowed me to just put my thoughts out there. To not just contain them in my head but to make it "real" by making it public. It helps kind of relieve my brain from just constant thought. And if anyone reads it, then great. If not, then at least I can look back on my thoughts to see how I've grown. And because they're "tangible" I'll never have to wonder what I've possibly forgotten. 

And more recently in my life, writing / blogging is a way for me to pass on my life to whatever children I may have in the future. I looked back on the lives of my parents and thought, I don't really know what their day to day life was like. You get to hear stories and tidbits of whatever they can remember. But those memories are few and far between and obviously not nearly enough for you to understand who your parents are and what they really went through. If they had written it down, you could read it like a book and imagine and fully feel what they experienced and lived. I think that more than anything now is my motivation to write. 

And then kind of as an aside, I feel like the more I put out there for people to read, the better the chance that others get to know me and understand me. And maybe my thoughts will help others in their lives somehow. But that's existential. 

But let me turn it back to you... what is your inspiration to read, reflect, and/or write (if you do all of the above)?

T: That's powerful. You're so right--often times we don't know our parents. We know what they did for us throughout rearing, but we don't know simple things about them like their favorite color or greater things like what they experienced in their lifetimes. I hope your future kids find comfort being able to read about their dad throughout their life. You inspire me to do the same. 

In college (the fist semester of my junior year, to be precise) a profoundly impactful professor told us to never stop reading if we wanted to grow. He said, "You are the sum of two things: the books you read and the people you meet." As someone who craved growth (and still do), it was enough convincing for me to stick my nose in books from that point forward. Similar to your sabbatical, I took a few months off after I graduated and before I started work at [XXXX] and solo backpacked SE Asia. During this time, I required myself to journal each day; so quickly can we forget life-changing experiences--whether we realize it in the moment or in hindsight--if we don't pause from our busy lives to make sense of the what we experienced that day. I reflect on my journals from that trip and can track back to key catalysts and see how they've shaped the man I am today. So, I now live by a slightly amended version of my professors quote: "you are the product of three things: the books you read, the people you meet, and the journal you carry, for your journal is the free-space where you can make sense of your books and experiences." The reason I read, reflect, and write is to make the most of my precious, limited days on this beautiful planet and to wake up with the goal to be a better version of myself from the day before. 

The Possibility of Practicing Multiple Religions?

"Can you / should you practice more than 1 religion at a time?"

I formulated this question when I was about 75% of the way through reading The Art of Happiness by the Dalai Lama XIV and Howard Cutler. As we all may have learned throughout our lives, there are so many intersections between different faiths as well as science. A logical, capitalistic man would pick and choose the best of all worlds and try to combine all the practices to yield the best lifetime results. 

But just as soon as I developed this thought, I was almost seemingly divinely answered by the Dalai Lama himself.

. 

The part that refutes the notion of practicing more than one religion is the necessity to become immersed and develop a "deep feeling, making them part of one's inner experience." Can you truly incorporate and draw from the depths of multiple religious views? Not even God himself (or Allah or Buddha, etc.) had that ability. So maybe it's best not to even try. 

The Art of Happiness by Dalai Lama XIV and Howard C. Cutler

I wish this book was actually written by the Dalai Lama. In fact, it was written by Howard Cutler based on his interviews with the Dalai Lama. So in a way, it's a little bit misleading.

I suppose that not enough people get any kind of interaction with the Dalai Lama, so we should be "happy" with what we get. Cutler seems to have done the best job he could with the limited time with His Holiness. But to me it just wasn't satisfying. 

In picking up this book, I had hoped to read so much more by the Dalai Lama. I was hoping to be more inspired. I was hoping to have deeper appreciation and understanding. And it's not that I didn't get any of this, it's that I was being greedy in thinking that I'd get more. 

The Dalai Lama's teachings are on the surface pretty basic. But it's in the application of "the art" that is deep and difficult. So many of the simple things he says and that Cutler makes note of could be discussed for hours, days, months, years! And one's personal achievement in happiness could take equally as long. 

I did pull some good things from this book as you've seen in my previous posts. And I respect even just the attempt to put into words what a lifelong journey towards enlightenment has to offer. 

I think what I've taken most from this read is that happiness comes most from the simplicity in life. To achieve happiness, start with what you can control and remove from your life the stress and fear that comes from what you cannot control. 

Check it out on GoodReads. 

Buy it on Amazon.

 

Su Casa Es Mi Casa Tambien Ya'll

We've been in Cypress, TX for 5 days staying at my older cousin's house with her family. Thanksgiving was celebrated, games were played, visitors would come and go, and food was in abundance. It's been a great time so far. But we leave on Wednesday to drive up to Dallas to attend my brother's wedding this coming Friday.

As I sit here and look back on the past few days, I realize that I'm way more comfortable here in my cousin's home than any other person's home that I've visited, stayed, or overnighted. It made me wonder how this came to be. How come I'm so at home in a home that's not my home?

At the very base of it all, it's because despite our age gap (14 years), we are very close. It helps that when I was a kid, she used to care for my brother and I for a short time. Our conversations over the years have become deeper and more meaningful, insightful and shareable at every step of our aging process.

We've always kept in touch no matter where she moved to. While she was still living in New Jersey, I visited the family often after I got my drivers license. I'd spend a weekend with them, toting my other cousins with me for the getaway. And when she moved here to Texas, we kept in touch most often by phone calls. We'd chat while she or I was at work; I'd sometimes even help her with her Excel problems.

I took care of her eldest daughter when I was around, made grilled cheese sandwiches for her first son, and am the godfather of her 3rd kid (who I played Nerf wars with today - he's 8, and I had fun!). Now that her kids are older (the first 2), they are able to chat, joke, and eat together with me and discuss more adult things but, at the same time, keep me young with their goings-on in their collegiate lives. In many ways, I treat them like the uncle I'm supposed to be, but at the same time, I am comfortable with playfully jousting with them verbally. It's an interesting dynamic. Not only have I become so close to my cousin and her husband almost equally, but I've also developed really loving and caring relationships for their kids.

I guess what I'm trying to say through all of this is that I love the bonds I've formed with this family. Their home is actually my home too. And because of this, I'm able to just be myself around them all the time. I say what comes to mind; I rummage through the fridge and pantry; I wash the dishes no matter who has used them; I take out the trash; I drive their cars; I test the youngest's math skills; I tease the middle child about girls; I ask the eldest to help me grocery shop; I dole out the family gossip to my cousin and exchange stories, then share some life insights to her kids. And in return, they all welcome my wife and I whole-heartedly into their home, treat us with respect, and love us as much as we love them.

Standing At The Airport, Waiting For A Train

Today, as I struggle to find something to write about, I decided to have a look back at my old posts in this blog. Doing that was a good reminder to reflect on the past every once in a while.

I realized that I've been blogging for a while, albeit very inconsistently, since 2008. The funny part is that I didn't have my own domain name until 2013, when I registered it with GoDaddy. Although I cannot remember the actual reason for registering this domain, I'm sure it had something to do with wanting to brand myself and not be a subdomain of a generic website (ie. blogspot). And I probably wanted to keep up with the times and the social / internet evolution. Over the years, I've registered a number of domains with the hope of conjuring up some kind of business or idea to make use of the outlet. Nothing major has come out of any of them yet.

Anyway, some of the content I had in the past was fairly interesting. I wrote with such passion about some things and other entries were merely updates about myself. Then there was a phase where I wouldn't write about myself and concentrated on topics of interest (or so I thought they were. Who knows what others thought?). And I actually had an interactive audience back then. I wonder where they are now?

I also used to follow a number of blogs in the past, many of them friends. When I tried to peer into those websites this morning, I found that many of them no longer exist. And those that were still present are currently inactive, meaning they haven't posted in months or years. I recall that the people I subscribed to were interesting writers whose content and writing style kept me interested. I wonder where they are now? I'm sure they still lead active, fun lifestyles but lack the time to share through writing. Or maybe they still write, but microblog through Twitter or FaceBook or Instagram, which I do too (man, I'm shameless).

Over the years, I can see that my writing has improved and my interests have evolved. The one thing that has not changed about me is that I constantly look to learn something new. And in that, I believe I'm successful. My first post was about "success" and that it is a journey, not a destination. So here's to the continuation of my journey - that I may navigate the twists and turns of life as well as the land, air, and sea around the world in a safe and enlightening way, to learn as much as possible from others, and to share the insights I have accumulated along the way.

Hoop (Day) Dreams and Reflection

I've been playing a lot of basketball lately. Sometimes, I get into full-court games if there are people around. But most days, I'm alone, shooting baskets until my arms feel like spaghetti. It's on these days that I get to think about my life the most. Every aspect of the game I play is likened to a facet of my life.

Every shot is representative of an action that I've taken in life. Some of them go in, like the successes I've achieved. And some of the attempts miss - an indication that more work is to be done. And each of these misses can be categorized.

Did the shot fall short? Was it an air-ball? It probably means I didn't have enough behind it. Not enough support. Insufficient strength. I didn't try hard enough. I wasn't prepared to succeed.

Did the shot swirl around the rim and lip out? I didn't shoot squarely. I wasn't at the ideal angle for the shot. I took a chance at a different approach. But I made the attempt in hopes of luck.

Did the shot hit the back of the rim and bounce out? I was over-confident. I tried too hard. I pushed some boundaries but the end result was some pushback. Sometimes less is more.

Was the shot halfway down the hoop and suddenly popped out? I was halfway there. I was livin' on a prayer. I must have needed something else to complete the job properly.

But every time the ball goes in the hoop, there is a certainty that everything went well. The form was perfect. I like those moments. It's a reminder that I have what it takes to score the points. I have what it takes to succeed, to complete / to compete, to do well at whatever task I've undertaken. Which is why I love to take free throws. (If it's free, it's for me.)

Now, I'm not a 100% free throw shooter, but I'd say I'm in a range of 70-80% accuracy. That means that 70-80% of the time, I can execute perfection. I bend my knees. I keep my eye on the basket. My form and posture is square; the arc is perfect; the trajectory is in line. The force is sufficient (and with me). Not too hard, not too soft. And the result is the swish of the net. It even sounds like perfection.

Basketball is an almost daily (yes, I play that often these days) reminder that I try and have to continue to try innumerable things in order to succeed at anything. And out of all the attempts that I undertake, I will fail at some, but prevail in most instances.