My Philosophy

I remember when I first read Self-Reliance. I was about 25. I read it because I had seen a quote from it and wanted to know what Emerson meant by the quote. So I dove in. I remember that it took longer than usual to read it, because I kept re-reading sections. I remember feeling like he was talking TO me. It was unlike any reading experience I had ever had. He was speaking to my life in such a profound way that it felt like he had written the book just for me. It blew my mind. The same thing happened when I read Man's Search for Meaning. Souls of Black Folk was the same way. These books transformed me. They opened me up to a different level of thinking. I thought differently about myself, and about life in general, because of these books. After I read them, I felt like I needed to give this new found knowledge to everyone I knew. I would tell anyone who would listen that they needed these books. To this day, if anyone asks, I hand them my copy of Souls of Black Folk. I have encouraged more than a few clients and friends to read Man's Search for Meaning. There are gifts within these texts that I can't imagine giving any other way.

The other day, one of my colleagues asked me if I would be okay with her suggesting my book to some of her clients. I was, of course, honored. Still, I didn't give it much thought. Today I saw a young man quote me in his facebook status. He's not someone I know well enough to think he would put the quote up in order to flatter me or help promote the book. As best as I can tell, he was simply moved by my words and felt the need to share them. At that moment, it hit me. On some small level, I had been for him what Emerson was for me.

Make no mistake. I don't fancy myself a philosopher in that classic sense. I'm not an eloquent writer. I'm no Emerson. No Frankl. No Dubois. But then, that doesn't matter, does it? Truth comes from wherever one is willing to find it. Because I wrote my story in such a simple and matter of fact way, there are truths I received from all of those philosophers that I am able to pass along to a demographic of people that would never dream of reading the books I read. So, I am able to translate. Perhaps it is that translation that is the greatest gift of what I've written. My story is not all that unique. The lessons I learned are not new. But the simplistic way in which I see my world allowed me to pull something very positive out of what seems, to most, like a very negative period of time. That is as close to a philosophy as I suppose I'll ever get. I'm glad it worked for someone.

Eyes on the Prize

The past few weeks have been nutty. I published the book, had a book signing, and have been working tirelessly to get it out into the world. Because I self-published the book, I instantly went from author to publicist/salesman/everything else over night. In the shuffle of it all, it became easy to forget the purpose of what I wrote. In my attempt to make sure the book is a "success" financially, I almost forgot what it is I set out to do.

Almost.

In the past 3 weeks I have received countless messages from people who read the book. People who shared how my story touched them. People told me that they laughed with me. They cried with me. They relived their own struggles while reading about mine. My story gave them hope. My strength gave them strength. And that was the point, wasn't it? I used to think to myself, my story needed to be told. I knew that my life had been crazy for a reason. It couldn't have been happenstance. The whirlwind that was my early years wasn't just a ball of confusion. It was the perfect storm. It was meant to bring me out on the other side stronger, wiser, and battle tested. When the dust settled, I became aware that my story could probably give hope to folks who have been through enough to make them need a little hope.

Like I said, in my hustle to make my book a financial success, I almost forgot that there was a reason I didn't wait on the big publishers to help me tell my story. There is a reason I did it myself. I wanted to tell my story. I wanted to share myself with the world. I wanted to open up in a way that I rarely have, in hopes of touching other people. I've gotten texts. I've gotten emails. I get messages on FB daily. The messages are clear. Whether I sell 12 books or 12 million, the book is a success.

Good on the Bad Days

Ever have one of those days where things just don't go your way? One of those days that just leaves you feeling kind of sour? Well, I had one of those days today.

The day actually started out pretty good. I sent the lady out the door with a few extra kisses. A nice big check showed up in my account this morning. Sonny boy and I were on schedule getting to the bus, which isn't always the case. I was feeling pretty good. With my extra couple dollars, I figured I'd open all the past due bills and spread the love. (There's mistake #1) Turns out the bills were just enough to shoot that big check to right to h.e.double hockey sticks. So now I'm just about back to broke. But, the bills are paid, so I'm still doing okay. Then I get a call from some publisher who wants to argue with me about my choice of publisher, simply because I didn't choose him. He goes on to tell me how I'll never get anywhere with this route and how if I'd only....... And so now I'm kinda mad. But, I've got a few bucks in my pocket and no food in the house, so its time for a trip to the store. While in the check out line I get one of those "Daddy, can you.." phone calls. Turns out my teenage daughter has locked herself out of her car at the gas station and needs my assistance. I of course get there when I can. Because I don't have one of those laser beam things they use on Star Trek, I apparently took too long to save her and got treated to a healthy dose of teenage girl attitude. Somehow I didn't realize that her locking her keys in her car was my fault. (There's mistake #2) Okay now I'm hot.

In my attempt to brighten my evening, I decided to go buy my lady friend a little something. Making someone else smile always seems to soothe the soul. I head to the jewelry store. (Mistake #3) It's been a while since I've had a girl to buy anything for, so I totally forgot what it's like being the broke guy in the jewelry store. They don't exactly treat you like royalty when you say, "I wanna buy something, but here's my budget."

So I'm winding down my night, angry, a bit frustrated, and all around tired. My son asks for some juice, which he always does just before bed. Normally he drinks it in the kitchen, because he's not permitted to drink juice in the living room. But tonight I'm so tired I don't bother to remind him of this rule. (Yup, mistake #4) Just as I'm checking emails and tending to loose ends, I here "Daddy, I kinda got some juice on my pajamas." Of course I knew what that meant. Some juice on the pajamas, the rest on the couch. I tried to contain my anger. I really did. I didn't yell. I didn't punish. I just cleaned him up and sent him to bed. But I guess the look I gave him was just a hair meaner than I meant it to be. When I got upstairs to read him his bedtime story, I found a pouting and sad little boy. "Daddy, I'm sorry for what I did downstairs. I'm really sorry." Sniffle, sniffle.

In that very second, I remembered that kids don't understand parents having a bad day. To them, everyday and every minute is about them. I was frustrated about my day. All he knew was that I was frustrated. He doesn't care that I'm broke. He doesn't know that the publisher, the jewelry store lady, and everyone in between got on my nerves today. All he knows is that I snapped at him for some juice. To him, I was being mean. To him, I was a little off. But dad's don't get to take the day off. There is no vacation from this job. I don't get to have a bad day.

I gave him a hug. I told him I was never mad at him. We read our story. All was well again. Luckily for me, I've got some great kids. That makes it a little easier. Still, its hard work being a good dad on a bad day.