Tag Archives: courage

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If, by Rudyard Kipling

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If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute    With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

Rudyard Kipling, 1895

Source: A Choice of Kipling’s Verse (1943)

When I’m down and feeling sorry for myself, “If” is one of the poems I return to for inspiration. Here are YouTube links to great readings of this poem, the first  by Holly Musgrove, the second by Sir Michael Caine-

“If” read by Holly Musgrove 

“If” read by Sir Michael Caine

Life is a gift and a responsibility. Let’s make the most of it!

Tio Stib
2019, 2020

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Michael Moore’s “Trumpland” Explains Why Trump Won

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Yes, like many Americans, I was stunned by Donald Trump’s astonishing election as the next president of the United States. No, I didn’t vote for him. His vile, bullying, and deceitful behavior during his candidacy left me both cold and embarrassed to be an American. No, I didn’t vote for Hillary Clinton either. Rightly or wrongly, I believed her to be part of an elitist political establishment that had little real concern for me or the rest of everyday America. I was an ardent Bernie Sanders supporter. Bernie is a good man, a decent human being, whose history of committed service to Main Street America, whose honesty and integrity, sparked me to political activism because I truly felt he was working for me. Sadly, Bernie didn’t make it past the Democratic Convention. Sadly, Bernie was not a real choice for president come election day. Instead, it was Clinton vs. Trump, not choices I could support. And Trump won.

This leaves me with two thoughts. First, Michael Moore saw all this coming last July. He correctly posited what would happen when what was formerly white middle class America reared up and roared it’s rage against the political establishment. He noted that this powerful elite had simply stopped listening to their constituency, and this complacency cost them dearly.

I’ve always enjoyed Michael Moore’s work, finding his voice to be insightful, compelling, and often humorous, a beacon of democratic freedom of expression and a reminder that democracy is the responsibility of each citizen.

Here’s the link to a summary of Moore’s “Trumpland” explanation of the election-

http://www.ew.com/article/2016/11/09/michael-moore-trumpland

Lastly, I must now confront my own responsibility for what is happening in America today, the divisiveness, the anger, even hatred, the polarization and tendency towards separation, all thinking and behaviors that run contrary to truly democratic process. I must push myself to pay attention, to listen with respect, to seek common ground and work for collective solutions to whatever challenges face my community, America, and the world I’m blessed to live in.

It is now, in this time of turmoil and difficulties that we each must work to be courageous, to stand for what is right, to listen with respect, to hold dear to the principles of freedom and equality that America was founded on. And we must never give up in our commitment to these ideals.

Be kind! Be strong! Be inspired!

Tio Stib

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Back to Love Basics 6, Rejection Therapy, Bernie Sanders, and Why I Like Fly Fishing

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It’s been a good day, mostly. I received a hugely positive book review, a number of projects I’m working on inched ahead, I met someone who might become a wonderful computer helper, and my wife and I created a surprisingly tasty meal together. Trust me, the last accomplishment was especially satisfying for a blind guy who lives for sumptuous taste.

So why am I writing about “Rejection Therapy,” Bernie Sanders and fly fishing?

Let’s start with “Rejection Therapy.” Just what is it?

Would you believe that “Rejection Therapy” is listed in Wikipedia? by that account, “Rejection Therapy” is a game invented by a guy who wants to help us get over our rejection angst. You win the game by getting the most people to reject you. I would do well with this game.

I’ve been playing “Rejection Therapy” most of my life. However, I’ve been playing in v-e-r-r-r-r-y s-l-l-o-o-o-w motion. As an example, it took me two years to recover from the shame of my first dating disaster before I even considered asking another girl out. By age forty, I’d reduced my recovery time to a mere three weeks.

What might this process have to do with you? Since life is all about relationships and I’m assuming you’ve had your share of these, I think it’s safe to guess that you’ve also had relationship failures. If this is true, the important question is-

How have you dealt with rejection?

Since this discussion is edging towards serious, let me break off and share my afternoon’s rejection therapy experience.

I happen to believe in the Bernie Sanders for President campaign. Without getting too much into it, suffice to say that I’d pretty much given up on American politics after Regan in the 80’s and generally avoided the stench of any news that came from the nation’s capitol. Yes, such behavior could be described as apathetic or un-American, but it was what it was. Then I found myself in the midst of a group of impassioned college kids pitching for Bernie Sanders, an old fart whose been standing up for what he believes is right for America more than thirty years. Those kids got my attention. I checked out Bernie and his ideas and soon I was another impassioned supporter promoting Bernie on street corners,, feeling hope for America again.

I was out this afternoon, standing on a corner in a small middle-class town wearing a big smile, sporting my best positive attitude, as throngs of people passed by on their way to the farmers’ market.

I put out a hearty “Good afternoon!” to everyone walking by. No political pitch, there was a big Bernie sign behind me with leaflets on a table. Just a hearty “Good afternoon!”

And what did I get in return?

Nothing.

They didn’t smile. They didn’t speak. They turned their heads, swerved to walk further away from me, did anything to pretend I didn’t exist.

Wow! I was stunned. I wasn’t pushing any hard sell for Bernie Sanders, just saying, “Good afternoon!”

Nothing.

Well, not quite nothing. I kept an approximate count, and from more than one hundred passersby, I received about five “Good afternoon to you,” responses, and even a few “Go Bernie!” quips. But most everyone went by pretending that a smiling human being, decently dressed, clean shaven, offering a simple “Good afternoon!” didn’t exist.

As I began processing what was going on, my mind flashed on other “Rejection Therapy “ experiences I’ve had. If you’re a writer, perhaps we’ve shared similar countless agent and publisher rejections. but, have you ever been fly fishing?

I hugely enjoy fly fishing for steelhead and trout. I’ve gone entire days without a single strike, not one indication that fish live anywhere near where I’ve been fishing. Yet, this is not upsetting. Sure, a bit disappointing, but like the “Rejection Therapy” game where players can ultimately learn to be at peace with rejection, I’ve learned to pay attention to the total fishing experience and not worry about catching fish. Drifting down a beautiful river, taking in the sounds of Nature, rushing water and songbirds, feeling a warm breeze on my face filled with the sweet scent of pine trees. All these things let me cast hundreds of times without a trace of an excited fish.

I recalled my fishing feelings as people continued to pass by, paying me no heed. Suddenly, I was standing on the bank of the River of Life, taking a deep breath of the fresh jasmine filled air, feeling the sun’s warmth on my face, noting that in front of me flowed a constant stream of fish faces, most of them a species I was not interested in catching. I smiled and kept casting, believing that eventually a bright and curious human being would come by.

Assuming you, my friend, are also seeking mutually supportive intimacy in your life, you’ve also been doing your own form of “Rejection Therapy.” I can only hope your recovery period is significantly less than my current two and one half weeks. The next time you’re turned away, consider seeking a different kind of people to play with, or even a new place to fish.

In case you enjoy such things, here are a few parting thoughts-

“you only catch fish when your line’s in the water.” -a smart ass guide watching me trying to untangle my line from a tree that wasn’t supposed to be there

“Fail faster to succeed” one of those catchy quotes for entrepreneurs who don’t have a clue what it really means.

“You have to kiss a lot of frogs before you’ll find your prince, or princess for that matter” -probably some smart grandmother type comforting a forlorn granddaughter or grandson.

Be happy, it’s a choice!

Tio Stib Signature

You might also enjoy: A Mirrored Smile, Seattle Sun

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Back to Love Basics 5, Me First, Igor meets Himself

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“She was everything he’d ever dreamed of, beyond all his fantasies, a woman who left him both mesmerized and drooling.

But, he’d been here before.

Sonja. Helibeth. Anna. Leticia , and countless others. They’d all taken his breath away and left his heart fluttering.

“Good God,” he prayed to the unseen force he didn’t quite believe in, “please let this be different. Give me the courage…”

And that was where it ended.

Again.

Once more, courage failed to answer his call.”

“The courage to what?” interrupted my young nephew, overwhelmed with curiosity.

I paused to study the impatient face beside me.

Then I answered, “Igor was afraid to be himself. He thought that the only way someone, especially a beautiful someone, could love him was if he made himself to be whatever they wanted him to be, and that always ended in disaster.”

“Sounds like Igor had a self-confidence problem,” said the boy whose wisdom went far beyond his years. “So what happened with this babe?”

“Max saved him.”

“Max?”

“Max was a mutt, a dog of no particular breed but very particular character,” I answered, thinking that my nephew and Max had a lot in common.

The boy waited, knowing there was more.

I continued, “Slouched in the apartment’s only chair,a barely padded relic that had known many previous backsides, Igor nursed a cheap beer and pondered his situation. Max lay on the apartment’s only throw rug, another well worn relic, his head resting on outstretched forelegs, sad brown eyes watching the beer can waving in the air.

The can paused and Igor stared up at the ceiling, about to say something to the great power he didn’t quite believe in. Then, remembering the futility of previous prayers, Igor gulped more beer and looked down at Max.

“Max, help me out here,” pleaded Igor, “tell me what to do!”

Suddenly brought to life by inner need to contribute, Max sprang into Igor’s lap and slobbered wet tongue kisses all over the lover wannabe’s face.

“Max! Max buddy!” gasped Igor, pushing his over zealous friend back to the floor. Then, Igor smiled, and looked up at the ceiling again.

“Thank you,” he said softly to the unseen.

I stopped and looked at my nephew.

“Is that it?” he said. “Is there some moral or adult thing I’m supposed to get out of this?”

“What do you think?”

“I think Igor is better off with his dog than with fantasy lovers who don’t accept him for who he is.”

Jeez, I thought, this kid really is smart. Why hadn’t I been able to grasp such things at his age? For that matter, why couldn’t I grasp such things when I was forty or even fifty?

“Sounds right to me,” I replied.

“Tio, does this story have something to do with you,” he asked innocently.

Ouch!

Tio Stib Signature

Looking for more Love and Relationship Help? Get “Remedies for Reluctant Romantics, 100 Ways to Win the Love Game” FREE when you sign up for my newsletter. Subscribe with the widget on the right side of my blog.

You might also enjoy: Back to Love Basics 2, Give the Love You Want; Back to Love Basics 4, Friends First

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Alone

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alone
he eyes
the speechless mirror
begging
answers
to appear

eyes dripping
unseen tears
mind screaming
ancient fears
day dawns
absent hope
sliding down
depression’s slope

he groans
and pushes back
the past
then rises
off
his sorry
ass

 

tio stib, 2015

You might also enjoy: If, Do It Anyway

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Memories

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Memories

Gasping from my lofty climb
I search for shadows left behind
The ghosts of journeys
once so strong
how can it be
they’re so far gone

In this forlorn solitude
my spirit aches to be renewed
to share the path of life again
to walk beside a noble friend

Comes a surge of unseen screams
a flood of faces from past dreams
warm memories sooth my aching heart
I climb again to find my part

tio stib, 2015

You might also enjoy Flavors of Friends, Truth

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Returned

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Returned

I am the prince
Returned from shadows past
From lives before
To claim my throne

I am the God I am

I run no more
From distant thunder
Fear no loss from any man
My wounds are healed
My heart is whole

I am the God I am

I am the sun, first morning light
I am the wind caressing souls
I am the moon, the purest love

I am the God I am

I am the sky, the talking stars
I am the fire, forever free
I am Creation, the lovers’ passion
I am the Light in you

Tio Stib, 1995, 2015

You might also enjoy A Mirrored Smile, Truth

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The Danger of Dreams

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The danger of dreams is that they can kill me.  Not just my body, but my soul. I can pour myself so completely into dreams that in the anguished heartbeat of final failure I cease to exist. A void. A vacuum of emptiness.

Nothing.

I’ve fallen and failed. I’ve thrown all I was into the fight to win a higher place in life and lost. In those times, I took solace in knowing I’d played my best, my loss was not from lack of effort. This gave me strength to look beyond and search for a higher goal, a bigger purpose to strive for.

Blindness was a bat to the back of the head; A surprise. that left me fear frozen on the slopes of my dreams. Unseen crevasses of doubt bewildered my mind, despair turned my breathing into gasps of high altitude anxiety. I have never felt so lost and alone.

I remembered the valley below, the cozy houses, the comforts of middle class complacency. the daily marching masses to meaningless work, forever treading water in the sea of status quo. I felt the gravity of blindness pulling me down to the coffin of conformity.

Then, in the stillness of my new blind solitude,  came the murmur of memories, ghost voices of fallen angels, heroes whose lives inspired me. Mandela. Gandhi. King. And countless quiet souls who lived their truth with silent fierceness. The night wind rose. They urged me on.

What is the real danger?  To die on a mountain of my own making, far from the solace of kindred souls, yet deep in the pure snow of my dreams, my last breath complete with knowing I’ve lived fully? Or do I stare up through the open window of life at summits unseen and fail to step out and climb again?

The real danger of dreams is not living them.

Yours to count on.

Tio Stib

Tio Stib Signature

Remedies For Reluctant Romantics

Winning at the Game of Love!
Romance For Dummies…

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The “F” Word – Fear

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20 Seconds of Insane Courage

 

There she is, sitting alone drinking coffee, the gorgeous girl you’ve been wanting to talk to for months. It’s the perfect opportunity to walk up and say, “Hello!” You gather your courage. You hesitate, thinking, “What if she blow’s me off?” You turn away, then stop. A new resolve fills you with brash excitement.

“Yes, I can!”

You spin around, ready to conquer the world, and stare in surprise to see your dream girl surrounded by 5 other chicks  chattering like a bevy of birds.

And so ends another chapter in the saga of your lonely and unrequited love life.

This story is repeated thousands of times each day for both men and women. Thousands of young hearts first dreaming, then hoping, then finally crashing back to reality in a worry warted face plant. What do all these stories have in common besides desire? That’s right. It’s the “F” word.

Fear.

Each of these love stricken fools held back and hesitated because they were afraid. The obvious question is “Afraid of what?”

Just what are we all so afraid of that we don’t step up and do the very things that we dream will bring us happiness? What can possibly happen that will be so bad, so unnerving, that we will be banished to loveless purgatory forever?

I can only speak for myself, and believe me, I’ve an immensity of experience with “Fear. I remember my first high school date and all the emotional turmoil caused by simply asking a girl to a dance.

I was part of a group of guys who were more the “out” bunch than the “in” crowd. Somehow we decided it would be cool to ask some of the cute girls in school to go to the dance with us. Then, to put some pressure on this impulse, we dared each other to do it. Yes, I had a crush on Susie but I’d never noticed she’d even looked sideways at me. I was deathly afraid she’d say “No!” which would have made me feel lower than dirt with my buddies. Even if I got past this neurosis, there was a bigger challenge lurking in my anxious mind. I’d actually have to talk with a girl, a female who was not my dog. What would I say? On top of that there was a larger problem I hadn’t even begun to think about.

I didn’t know how to dance.

Okay. Let’s add up the strikes. Fear of rejection. Fear of women. Fear of looking like a fool. None of these may seem as life threatening as fear of your mom finding your hidden copy of Playboy, but still, these things are cause for the sudden eruption of pervasive acne on a previously naive and unmarked face.

Let’s analyze the true probable consequences of failure. What could possibly be so bad?

First, what could happen when I walk up to Susie and ask her out?

Nothing, of course. I see Susie in the hall standing by her locker. I smile and walk up to her. I trip over my untied shoelace and fall face first in front of her. As I get up I hear the crotch of my jeans tear. I turn twelve shades of crimson as I pull my knees under me and look up. Susie has been joined by at least two dozen other girls all staring down at me. They are laughing. I slowly stand up, being careful to keep my legs together to avoid exposing the damaged jeans. Obviously, this is the perfect moment to say, “Hi. How’d you like to go to the dance with me?”

No, not much could go wrong there.

Or, let’s assume I managed to escape the slip sliding for love entry, and found myself alone with Susie in front of her locker and all I have to do is introduce myself.

Me, standing silent in front of Susie: A….

Susie, staring at me: Yes?

Me, stuttering: I…I…

Susie, now smiling: Could I help you?

Me, beginning to shake nervously: I….I…

Susie, looking around for help as she’s now thinking I may be a problem.

Me, exploding: I was wondering if you…

Susie, a puzzled look on her face: Yes?

Me: …if you could tell me where the bathroom is?

There, that was easy, wasn’t it.

Of course, there’s always the slim possibility that I got past the first two challenges and somehow managed to convince Susie to attend the dance wit me. Now what?

Me and Susie enter the dance together. I smile smugly at my buddies. Yes, I have scored. Look at the cute chick I’ve brought to the dance. Eat your hearts out suckers!

Ten feet into the dance hall, Susie turns to me and says, “I think I’ll go over and talk with my friends.”

Me, a sigh of relief: Sure.

We retreat to our opposite corners, girls over there, boys over here, and spend the rest of the night eyeing each other, the boys making derisive remarks about the overweight girls and the only two guys in the room who actually dance. Lord only knows what the girls were talking about. And so I manage to complete my first date. What was the big deal? Nothing, except the anxiety acne I developed made me so self conscious that it was three more years before I managed the nerve to ask another girl out.

Looking back, such mental angst seems so ridiculous. What did I really have to lose in walking up and saying “Hello!?”? Most people, even girls even, will simply smile and say “Hello” in return. They won’t give you the evil eye and make you feel like you’ve invaded the private territory of the Witch of the North. If this does happen, you obviously don’t really want to know this person.

In the movie “We Bought A Zoo,” Matt Damon recounts the experience of meeting his wife, a moment when he managed to overcome his own fears and boldly stepped forward for “20 seconds of insane courage.” He walked up to the girl he was smitten with and said, “Hi. I don’t know why you’d ever want to talk with a guy like me.”

She replied, “Why not?”

20 Seconds of insane courage.

Yes you can!

Take heart, you are following in the footsteps of countless other fearful folks who have succeeded in spite of themselves.

 

Yours to count on.

Tio Stib Signature

Remedies For Reluctant Romantics

Winning at the Game of Love!
Romance For Dummies…