Person A is a single mom in her mid-thirties with school loans, working hard and forced to live with her parents. Her biggest worry: money. Person B has a small family living in a multi-million dollar home in an elite neighborhood, couple of cars, private school for the kids. His biggest worry: money. Two former clients, two divergent situations, one worry. Makes you wonder if financial “freedom” is actually attainable, or if it’s more true to say that for every monetary hoop we jump through, we just end up getting fitted for a new and, perhaps, roomier straightjacket.

Isn’t it curious that for such a quantifiable subject (penny, nickel, dime, quarter, dollar, etc.), we’ve managed to load it up so non-quantifiably with emotional baggage and fear-based irrational thoughts. Here’s the deal: Money works best when you own it, not when it owns you. Remember this while you’re busy fulfilling your obligation to compulsively compare and despair. I’m certain you’ll reveal a pattern of suffering that took root amidst a bunch of hopped-up and hollow hoop-la.

Popularity: 64% [?]

Do you like the way you look in a funhouse mirror? Yeah sure, it’s pretty funny, but that’s because you get to walk away from it. Could you imagine if the image of a squat, dumpy, flat-headed, droopy-eared, bug-eyed, ridiculous looking YOU all of the sudden became permanent? Not so funny.

We don’t bother mourning the way we look in a funhouse mirror, because we know it is a distortion of reality. Yet when our minds serve up their endless thought distortions about how we are weak, undeserving, insufficient, unimportant — all of which are profoundly UN-true — we don’t walk away. We live them out, letting them negatively influence our every dream, goal and desire. Where’s the fun in that?

Next time you find yourself meandering through the warped carnival of self-doubt, skip the house of mirrors. Instead, try heading straight for the tunnel of love. I’m pretty sure you’ll get a much better ride.

Popularity: 42% [?]

Roy C. Sullivan

Ever bemoan something miserable that keeps happening to you and chalk it up to being cursed or unlucky? Well, this guy was struck by lightning seven different times. Roy Sullivan, by all accounts, was a dedicated U.S. park ranger and I suppose his proximity to all those open spaces didn’t help him much, but seven times? I’m thinking that, say around the second or third time that I got mowed down by 100 million volts, I’d be heading off to the nearest big city to live amongst some very tall buildings. But that’s just me.

How ’bout you? Are you a lightning rod for some, suspiciously consistent, negative outcome? This can take on many forms, from never following through on anything you start, to always hooking up with the absolute wrong partner. It doesn’t really matter. It’s predictable, it hurts and makes us feel as if we’re always traveling in circles. You reckon Roy might’ve benefitted from doing something different? Hard to say for sure, but it begs the question, “are you taking the same old approaches to your new opportunities?”

There’s a now clichéd saying that’s been widely attributed to Tony Robbins, but I’d first heard it from an old horse wrangler out in Montana. It goes something like, “If you’re gonna do what you always done, you’re gonna get what you always got.” There was just something remarkably powerful about hearing it from this ol’ cowboy, with his sage-like voice and weathered face that warned, “son, you oughta listen to this.”  So then, take a long look at Roy. The story in his face. The charred hole burned through his hat. Now…are you ready to listen?

Popularity: 70% [?]

During one of my experiential learning trainings, my colleagues and I were asked to break into groups of four to engage in an “authentic” discussion. Seems like a silly request I know, but given all the BS that we’ve become accustomed to tossing around in our day-to-day interactions, this one wasn’t so easy. As you can imagine, being exposed to other people’s truths got dicey and two members of my group launched into an epic battle complete with yelling, tears and one of them storming out of the room. The tension in the air was palpable. People gasped and heck, I even regressed to some childhood memory of the routine skirmishes at my family dinner table. But the fourth member of my group, a confirmed Buddhist, sat with a curious and contented smile.

When order was restored and we were asked to process the exercise, I was compelled to ask what my smiling friend was so pleased about. She simply responded, “that was so not my shit.” I can’t tell you what a shift this was for me and now, when I find myself completely uncomfortable or even suffering in someone else’s business, I step back and remind myself, “dude, that’s so not your shit.”

The great Byron Katie breaks it down this way: “There are only three kinds of business in the universe: mine, yours, and God’s. Whose business is it if an earthquake happens? God’s business. Whose business is it if your neighbor down the street has an ugly lawn? Your neighbor’s business. Whose business is it if you are angry at your neighbor down the street because he has an ugly lawn? Your business.”

To what degree do you find yourself obligated to be in the business of others? Do you ever find yourself thinking that if so-and-so just did (or stopped doing) _________, well then I’d finally be happy? Try to remember these four powerful words “So Not Your Shit” by using the acronym SNYS (pronounced “sniss”) and the next time you get the urge to control your own outcomes by sticking your nose in other people’s business — just SNYS IT!

Popularity: 40% [?]

I took up running last week. So what, right? Well, to know me is to know that I’ve been making excuses for why I don’t run for at least a decade now. Compelling ones. The kind that have “modern medicine” on their side. Bad ankle, bad knee, torn labrum in my left hip, recurring back spasms, torn left rotator cuff and a pinched nerve between C6 and C7. Apparently, riding jumping horses all those years is a gift that just keeps on giving, but that’s beside the point. The rest of my body is craving some recognition and I want to listen. Physically irresponsible? Not really. I’m just changing my story about my body’s declining worth and its resultant girth. Rather than being obligated to the perceived limitations of the aforementioned laundry list of ailments, I’m putting on some running shoes and, well, running.

Action and doing are an incredible remedy for traction and eschewing. Granted, I look more like Rocky at the beginning of the training sequences than the guy that triumphantly ascends the art museum steps. Well, maybe I still only aspire to look like the panting, sweaty mess that he was at the beginning, but either way, my old story can’t help but change. My simple action has made my tattered tale patently untrue.

I recently passed a compassionate looking man who was walking his dog, yet the dog’s back legs were being supported by a two-wheeled assistance device. Heart-wrenching? Initially yes, until I looked down at the furry little guy to see the requisite joy that you’d see on most any dog’s face. It was as if to say, “yeah, sad, but don’t let the dog know that!” He didn’t seem to be having any part of a story — he was having a walk. It’s a pretty good bet that dogs will always have the capacity for acceptance and presence more than we ever will. No wonder why it’s not their job to clean up our crap. Nope, that’s our job. What stories about YOUR body are just that — stories? What action can you take now to rewrite the same old script that you habitually recite without any presence of mind — or body?

Popularity: 40% [?]