More and more, I see the world changing, which is fine because change is a natural act and no amount of pretending will ever change this fact. I see this in business and in personal interactions.
Everyone has an opinion. Everyone has their own system of beliefs. Everyone has their own political view, their own passions, and their own rights to each. You have your way and I have mine.
More and more, however, I see a great imposition between others with conflicting opinions. I see fights and division. I see hatred and frustration and people pointing fingers at this one or that one, quick to say which one is right or wrong, but never daring to listen to an opposing view because it my disturb their system f beliefs

I used to speak with a salesman on a somewhat regular basis. He was good to speak to. And I will tell you why.

Business is business and life is life. But sometimes the two intertwine. Sometimes life bleeds into business and sometimes business bleeds into life. We are human, which means life happens.
Things happen in our personal life or something can happen in our work life that weighs us down.
Maybe we lost a sale. Maybe our boss decided to go on a shouting spree. Maybe something at home went wrong.
Maybe the love life went south or something happened to the kids or a family member.
Life happens to everyone, but yet, professionalism is expected, which means we cannot allow this to distract or deter us from our path.

There is nothing so healing to the world like a laugh during a hard time. I swear in the most impossible of settings, a laugh, say like from someone you love, can be the most redeeming thing in this crazy world.

The word just is nothing us. We’ve talked about this before. I love this word because I love the reaction I get when doing presentations.

Just don’t do that anymore . . .

There is buried treasure somewhere in a backyard of small home located five houses north of Front Street in a town called East Meadow. I know this because I buried it there, long ago, at a time when youth was made for the young. I’m sure I drew a treasure map, just in case I forgot where I buried these things.

We’ve talked about the tooth fairy, I’m sure.
Or haven’t we?

I was a kid (of course) and this happened somewhere around the wintertime in second grade. This was a day after a snow day. I was at the bus stop with the other kids.
Everyone was throwing snowballs, which was fun to some degree. I never had much of a throwing arm and besides, I had little hands with little mittens, which meant my snowball-making ability was sub-par. I never liked wearing mittens but this is what Mom gave me.
I used to ask for gloves,  —but instead, I had mittens. I had big fluffy, stupid little kid mittens, which caused the older 6^th grade kids to pick on me.

There was a morning when I was at my wit’s end. This was during the warmer months. I took a walk at sunrise and found my way up the blue trail at the base of a nearby spot known as Cobus Mountain. The sun was on its way but the temperature was already high.

I made my way up around and through the trails. I climbed the elevation and bled my sweat that drenched my hair and dripped down the bridge of my nose.

There will always be someone out there looking to take a shot at your dreams to knock you down and keep you from being who you want to be. And they do this to weaken your knees.
They do this to loosen your grip, so you let go, and so you slip and fall.
So don’t do it.
Don’t prove them right.

Every so often, I have this recurring dream of a place from I childhood. I see this as a sign of change. I have these dreams when something is about to switch and either a new chapter is about to begin or an old chapter is finally about to end.

The dream I have is of an upstate place in a little town called Ellenville, New York. I went to camp here when I was somewhere about 10 or maybe 11 years-old.
I didn’t want to go here. At least, I never asked to. This was sleepaway camp, which meant I would be someplace with kids I didn’t know that came from from places I never heard of.

It’s not the pain you’re afraid of.
It’s not the tragedies.
It’s not the outcomes either.
All of them are predictable.
After a while, the pain makes sense. Throughout time, you become comfortable in your discomforts because at least these things make sense.