One of the hardest things about being in a relationship for me is witnessing someone so close to me suffer. We all have our own patterns, blind spots, and distortions of reality however when we’re in the swamp, it is often incredibly difficult to believe that it is just the swamp we’re in and not the entire planet.

It is also challenging to believe we know what someone else needs, that one little thing they can do to alleviate their own suffering. As I teach people each day, it is not for any one of us to tell another person what their problem is! Even if we think we know what it is! At best, we have the opportunity to ask for permission to share some insights we might have but without that permission, we are treading in dangerous territory. And our brilliant insights are likely to be met with animosity, resentment and mistrust.

Many people like to then ask, “so what’s the point of friendship, partnership, family, etc. if we can’t tell them what we think and where they are stuck?”

It’s a wonderful question and I believe that millions of people on the planet are right there with you. The truth is, however, that it is not our right, even if we care very much for them. It is absolutely our right if they ask for help or if they are willing to hear what you have to say. Some people believe it is their absolute responsibility to tell someone they love what they should do, need to do, must do! However, whenever we hear the word “should” rolling off our own lips, you can bet we’re headed for trouble.

The Tyranny of the Should is not only an enemy of our own, berating us for not doing more and being more, more, more… it is also an enemy of our loved ones. “You really should” is a problem for relationships across the globe. It is an indicator that we are actually not at peace with ourselves so we feel the need to change others. It can also be a close cousin of false righteousness, the cousin who always seems to know what I should have done and is so happy to let me know after the fact.

When I come from the Realm of the Should, the likelihood is that I, too, am nearing the swamp.

So, please remember: The swamp is not the planet, it is a teansie, tiny spec on the planet. When I am stuck and I feel the world is crap, it is a feeling, not reality!!! It will pass.

Is watching Mad Men every Sunday night a modern Ritual?

I spent the week-end at the Westin Kierland Hotel in Scottsdale, AZ and each evening as the sun begins to head down behind the mountains, clothing the golf course in shadow, a man with long hair and a kilt would stroll up to the edge of the grass and belt out a half hour of bag pipe music.

Yes, it was wonderful to hear the music as the end of day was celebrated by such unique melodies. Yes, it was a great show accompanied by a bonfire and some single malt. Yes, it brought hotel guests together, typically perfect strangers who mostly enjoy their anonymity in the huge box of identical rooms.

All of these elements added to the sunset event but it was clear to me that this practice was not simply a hotel gimmick to bring more people to the bar each night for happy hour. It was a ritual.

My definition of a ritual is an event, practice, and or coordinated behavior that is engaged mindfully and with intention that contributes to the creation of a context for our existence. That gentleman comes every evening ten minutes before sunset and plays for half an hour and then leaves. It is not his job, it is a committed behavior that creates meaning in his life. The ritual not only promotes order for the piper, it becomes something so perfect, significant, and memorable that strangers come to depend upon it.

Most of us do things all the time, often at similar times each day or week. We go shopping, watch television, check emails and make dinner. Yet, how often do we engage these practices with intention and mindfulness?

I used to pray each morning and it became a beautiful ritual that provided a sense of meaning simply due to the fact that it was a consistent practice with focused intention. I used to hike the same trail each morning and it too, established a consistent, meaningful ritual for me where I’d spend the first half of the walk thinking about the past and the second half envisioning the future. It was a ritual I loved that made a real difference in my life.

I consider my life today and there are many consistent acts, but sadly few rituals that add meaning and create a context of mindfulness for my existence. How about you? Do you pray? Meditate? Practice yoga or go running? I’d love to hear about your rituals!

It’s ten degrees today in Chicago with snow touching down in whisks of fifty mile per hour winds. Sounds fun, right?

It might have made for a really good stay home and watch movies day if it weren’t for the fact that I’m sitting by the pool at a beautiful spa in Scottsdale. It set a record (80) here today for this time in December and I wanted to be a part of it.

I came to Arizona this week-end for a family gathering and last night as we were all saying our good-byes, I decided it wouldn’t be so bad if we had to spend another night in this beautiful spot. In fact, I started making plans for how I’d spend the day and how I’d cover my obligations in the office Monday morning. When people spoke about being home Sunday night, I thought to myself, “or Monday night….”

Sure enough, we woke up this morning to email alerts from American Airlines that they had canceled our flight. What is more, they rebooked us so that we leave early Monday morning and get us home before lunchtime! Perfect!

So, after a busy week-end jam packed with family obligations and lots of indoor time, I created a wonderful day of real vacation space where I could recharge and enjoy this beautiful moment in my life.

Some people snicker at the sound of the “law of attraction.” Yet, before The Secret suggested it was a marketable concept with commercial implications, it was simply an idea that people either lived by or ignored. The notion that we can create our reality by focusing our thoughts, feelings and intentions on something is as old as humanity itself.

What hunter set out into the tundra thousands of years ago without envisioning the perfect kill? What mason placed a corner stone without first seeing and admiring the finished temple in his mind?

One need not be a New Age subscriber to identify with common sense. If we go to sleep worrying about rain ruining our picnic the next day, it is very likely that the grill will have an inch of water before we awaken. Try seeing the sun shine, the food tasty and your guests laughing and having a wonderful time.

The choice is yours, is it not? I guess it is all in how you look at it.

The view looks great to me from the pool.

My dad loved a little John Denver on a snowy Saturday morning. Ann Murray joined us on the car stereo for short trips to the store. He cranked the Kenny Rogers when nothing else would suffice but the Gambler.

I moaned. I yelled. I rallied my tween-age defiance, flicked off the Sony’s power and proudly took my time-outs like a prisoner caught with a shank at lock-down. A classically disenfranchised youngster, I had no say when it came to the theme songs of family time. However, when I think back to my childhood, the background tunes that color my memories are exactly those cheesy, un-hip, “why is this song still in my head” examples of 1970’s Americana.

One of the greatest things about driving was choosing the music that served as the score for my personal movie. Peter Gabriel’s Sledgehammer blasted through my silly Nissan Maxima as I drove home from the DMV after passing my road test. George Michael cooperatively chanted “I Want Your Sex” as I sat dazed and content after losing my virginity. “It Takes Two to Make a Thing go Right” is imprinted from my first freshman dorm party, the moment I realized I was truly on my own and could party like THIS if I wanted to…

The funny thing is that I don’t listen to the music from that movie anymore. Oddly enough, when I feel nostalgic, I reach for a little John Denver. I look to “Sweet Caroline” and not “Darling Nikki” to soothe what ails me these days. Who put Simon and Garfunkel on my freakin I-pod? Guilty. I can’t explain it other than I’m the product of my environment. I just never thought the environment that would stick would be the cheesy, 70’s one.

I used to love twirling around in circles as a little boy, making myself as dizzy as I could before I would fall sideways into the warm grass, giggling and groaning with ecstasy. As a “spiritual seeker type” of young man, I was captivated by the Whirling Dervishes, the Sufi order that counted the great poet Rumi as one of its members. I sought out their mystical celebrations of merging with the Divine Source through a deep meditative trance induced by careful gliding into a transcendent state. Ahhh.

Who doesn’t enjoy a good spin?

In fact, I see spinning every day in my work. Some people like to whirl themselves into a dramatic tizzy by repeating the same patterns, over and over again, until they either stumble upon deep meditative introspection or they crash into a brutal wall of frustration and anger.

I am also aware of the kind of spinning where people attempt to repackage their thoughts, behaviors and emotions toward less incriminating, less shame inducing places. This is a fascinating process to witness, as the spinner, much like the Dervish, can become intoxicated by their own circulating distortion.

And really, who doesn’t spin sometimes? Humans are indeed animals, deep down inside, and we have a strong survival instinct. I find that for most people, survival tends to be typically emotional rather than physical in nature. Why would I want to feel bad about myself? It is far easier to spin the facts or the feelings in a way that alleviates my own anxiety or feelings of shame.

Today, there is even a substantial amount of institutional spin. Corporations spin disasters or failed quarterly profits, governments spin misguided policies, wars and appointments. Today, Wiki Leaks’ Mr. Assange is being spun so hard he is sitting in jail right now and the folks that put him there want you to believe the spin is reality. Since when does Interpol extradite people for broken condoms?

Ah, the breeze is lucid, warm, dream-like as we turn and turn and turn.