The beautiful thing about pillow talk is that it covers the most special and private topics—be they sensitive or humorous or painful—in a spirit of sharing and intimacy.  One mother-daughter duo redefined pillow talk for me.

I was chatting with a friend and her mom, comparing stories of raising kids, being a kid, maintaining lines of communication, and sharing matters of the heart and soul.  Come to find out that their pillows served as communications central.

Whenever a question or topic arose in the daughter’s mind, about which she wanted her mother’s input, but not a face-to-face conversation, she would leave a note on her mom’s pillow.  And just like the tooth fairy, her mom would provide a treasure—her responses—onto her daughter’s pillow.  The pillow, a source of safety and comfort for all ages, provided a place to share special and private topics.

In listening to their story, I heard a few great truths:

–There are many avenues of communication for those who really want to

–The act of communicating trumps the style every time.  It doesn’t matter if it needs to be done by note, email, phone call, conversation in the dark, or a chat at a restaurant; what does matter is that there is communication in which both parties are safe and comfortable

–Love begets safety, and safety grows love.

My youngest son developed an expression as a child, and the potency of its truth continues to strengthen as he mids the teen years, and he’ll find that it is even more relevant and poignant in adulthood:  “I’m using my good brain.”                    

The realities are many:  our brains ARE good, they should be USED, and we must take OWNERSHIP of using our brains in making decisions, being creative or choosing directions in life.

He and I still bring up the phrase when he shares a wise decision that he has made, a challenging problem that he has resolved, or a stubborn dilemma that he has overcome.  Part of the beauty, from my perspective, is that he realizes that his brain is a rich, powerful and good force that is to be used, utilized and explored.  And then I look at the people I see, read about or hear.  I look at elected officials, people I encounter and people who have yet to even explore or own their talent and/or their potential.  And I wished they would hear and also own the notion of owning their “good brain.”

We are given such incredible talent and intelligence.  And potential.  Potential:  something that defines the reach that we have but don’t have the commitment to achieve.                                                                                                                               

Consider our actions, choices and decisions:  Are we truly using and utilizing our good brain?

Happy Dorothy Sobieski McInnis Day

You may know today as Mother’s Day, but for me it is Dorothy Sobieski McInnis Day because mom was, for me, the epitome of mothers and mothering.  Her tombstone declares “A tender mother and a faithful friend.”   No truer words could be spoken.

Mom’s ways of caring, loving and teaching certainly left an imprint on me, and had a profound effect on the way I live life as a dad.  Her approach to raising kids, putting up with smart alecks, and sharing wisdom serves as a resource for me in my roles as manager, leader, parent and friend.  And maybe that is the reason there is a Mother’s Day:  Moms teach us so much about love, life and relationships.

I hope that you had a wonderful Mother’s Day whether you are a mom, have a mom or had a mom.

Miss you, mom; love ya always.

(This is part of an ongoing series of highlights from past Listen to Life newsletters.  Many readers and subscribers were not following when this came out.  Enjoy.)

He was a 19-year old bomber pilot charged with taking out any Japanese ship he could find.  On a day in 1943, he dropped all nine of his bombs in two attempts to sink an enemy vessel. Nine misses.  A day of failure.  Fifty two years later he learned of his success.  All of our actions must be evaluated over the context of time, not merely the perspective of the moment.

The veteran shared his story in a memoir writing class last week.  Five decades after his failure, he read an interview with the author of the book “A Thousand Cups of Rice.”  The man realized that the story of the American POWs of the Japanese army described, among much other travail, the incident of almost being sunk by an American bomber.  The ship the man tired to sink was full of American soldiers being transported to another locale to perform slave labor for the Japanese.  He met the author and other survivors at a reunion and has remained a friend ever since.

Many of our “mistakes” and “failures” are only so in the moment in which they occur.  The business world is full of entrepreneurs who turn bankruptcy into later success.  The same can be said for other action or decisions in our lives that, in the short term appear miserable, catastrophic or dunderheaded.  Time reveals the correctness of our life’s actions as we grow and learn from experiences along the way of life.

(This is part of an ongoing series of highlights from past Listen to Life newsletters.  Many readers and subscribers were not following when this came out.  Enjoy.)

“Hoping for,” “dreaming about,” and “working for” represent three very different positions in the journey toward a goal.  The first two are nice, but largely useless, and even frustrating, IF you’re not also willing to do the work.  This holds true for any worthy goal, including peace.  Too many folks don’t seem to understand that.

I contribute to a virtual community for photographers and models, and recently I posted an image of the New Mexico Veteran’s Memorial (the first memorial in the United States devoted to the Vietnam Vet, and created through the labors of a grieving father) along with a message about veterans, their courage and the love of others.  Along the way, I commented that war has existed since the dawn of time.  Another resident of the site took me to task because at least he dreamed about there being peace in our lifetime.  Don’t we all?  Dream for peace?  Nice.  Work for peace?  Indeed, the work is great, but the laborers are few.  I read the man’s posting that was titled “call me a dreamer” and I wonder what the world would be if more people would “work for” instead of “dream about” great things, large and small.

How do we actively work for peace?  Kindness, patience, generosity, and giving and sharing for the benefit of others conducted person-to-person or for the grander issue of social justice go a long way.  Do we dream about the possibility or do we become part of the reality by treating others with respect, by loving ourselves and others, by giving our efforts to address the causes of violence?

With no apologies to John Lennon (“you may call me a dreamer..”) because he dreamed and toiled, but dreaming of a great world, life, circumstance, event, opportunity or situation is only a good beginning.  We must also do the work.  Let our dreams inspire our efforts.

(This is part of an ongoing series of highlights from past Listen to Life newsletters.  Many readers and subscribers were not following when this came out.  Enjoy.)

“You’re beautiful,” the man said as he looked over my shoulder to the image of his wife that I showed him in my camera’s screen.  The images that I create are not for the men in women’s lives, but for the women and for me.  That makes the man’s comments more special.  Each comment came in a whisper as a reaction to what he saw.

Of course I am proud when I hear such things, but there is something more important about the comments of  Emily’s and Jennifer’s husbands:  they were spoken spontaneously.

The men responded to the beauty of the women they love.  The images were not glamorous, nor of the “beauty” genre, yet they clearly revealed beauty.  The men responded with “you’re beautiful” with the power of loving whispers.

We all need to be open to beauty—particularly other than that which the media defines—and we need to respond to it.  Respond to her.

Let beauty take our breath away, and allow ourselves to say so.

(This is part of an ongoing series of highlights from past Listen to Life newsletters.  Many readers and subscribers were not following when this came out.  Enjoy.)

There have been a number of losses recently, deaths that came as surprises or conclusions to long battles.  Reflecting on these, while considering the new movie, “The Bucket List,” I am quite aware of mortality, which reminds me of how we honor those near to us who have died.  I recall this poem that I wrote for a woman to share with her colleagues about a friend who had passed away.  Today, the poem seems somehow even more real.

Poem for the Dead, Poem for the Living

She asked me for a poem, perhaps some lines

Of beauty to mark the woman-friend’s life of such

Words to celebrate a life gone by

Words to say “we love you this much.”

In praising her friend’s life past in a poem

Would require words like “love” and “service”

Also words “friend” and “colleague” appear

I should pick words that don’t make her nervous

In celebrating the long-friend now past

Requires honoring life lived and loved

It probably mandates gentle reflection

And tributes to our God above

But to honor a woman whose life has past

To recognize the lives she has touched

Is to challenge all who miss her so

And ask “will you do as much?”

Will we all live like our beloved did?

Will we befriend like she did with her heart?

Will we serve those around us every day?

Will we love from the morning’s start?

We honor our friend, our neighbor, our kin

By pausing to reflect and to share

We honor her more with the things we can do

In her image of love, if we dare.

We miss our friend, our hearts ache so

When we no longer hear her laugh and voice

We can’t look back, but can look ahead

We really have little other choice

The choices we have are to live our lives full

To hold and hug and cry

To laugh and serve and love every day

Until it is our turn to rest and die

My friend asked for a poem for a friend

To express thoughts of love and beauty

We honor who has passed and those still alive

If we live genuinely and we live truly

(This is part of an ongoing series of highlights from past Listen to Life newsletters.  Many readers and subscribers were not following when this came out.  Enjoy.)

They appear in blue and black inks, and in the dark gray of graphite.  My words from the past six years fill journal after journal on the shelf above my head.  Other writings are in boxes, on hard drives and in drawers.  Words are scattered all over the place, but the journals on the shelf had my attention for a few minutes this weekend, until they got to be too much to read. They transitioned from enjoyable to burdensome for three reasons.

What is to come from these words from my heart and soul?  Thus, the burden’s reasons:  1. They reminded me of joys and sorrows so deeply placed that the emotions were r i p p e d from me during reading, 2. What is to come of the words after I am gone?  Are they to live on or decay like the paper they are on? And, 3. Six years fit neatly on the shelf and passed with a blink, so what is to come of the next years?

In the questions are the answers, when listened to and listened for.  Life’s fullness comes from the yin and yang of emotions and experiences that fill our lives and make the time pass so quickly.  We owe to ourselves and those who follow to at least try to make record of, and some sense of, our feelings and thoughts.

I’m glad I read my own, personal works.  I learned.  I learned about life, about others and about myself simply by re-reading in the context of the lessons that I have learned between the time that pen touched paper and the time I re-visited them.  Learning is never ending, and our own experiences are among our best teachers on how to deal with love, loss, joy, sorrow, success and failure if we record and listen…to ourselves.

(This is part of an ongoing series of highlights from past Listen to Life newsletters.  Many readers and subscribers were not following when this came out.  Enjoy.)

“Never mind, that’s nothing for a parent to be proud of for his kid,” my son said while wiping some blood spatters off the bottom of his skateboard.  He had just finished telling me a longer version of the tale of his ‘board ride down a difficult hill that ended with a fall that caused enough bumps, bruises, cuts and abrasions to have him visit the emergency room for five hours to get 17 stitches in his chin, a CT scan and more.  The ride on his board wasn’t the only wild one.  He was quite proud to have even tried the particular hill, and the blood served as his own “red badge of courage.”

I was a bit surprised by his comment but saw a moment to help clarify what parents can be proud of in their kids.  And it isn’t only the behaviors that mimic the parent’s.  The same lesson applies to managers and their employees, leaders and volunteers, teachers and students.  Pride is not, and should not, only be borne from similarity and conformity.

“Why shouldn’t I be proud?”

Silence and shrugged shoulders.

“I’m proud of my boys, all three of you, because you each do what you do with conviction to your purpose and your beliefs.  I’m proud of your passion, your commitment to your actions that have purpose.  I don’t agree with everything that each of you does, but am certainly proud that you each pursue your ideas fully.  You don’t have to be like me for me to be proud of you.  But how about next time wearing a helmet?”

He had to suppress a laugh because of the stitches, but he nodded and smiled.

My sons know that I am proud of them, on many levels.  Just as my employees do.  But my son’s comment reminds me that we cannot tell others enough that not only are they doing a good job, but “I’m proud of you.”  It is easy to be if we look beyond the superficial and the actions that mirror our own; looking deeply into who a person is gives plenty of opportunity for pride.  Tell them so.

(This is part of an ongoing series of highlights from past Listen to Life newsletters.  Many readers and subscribers were not following when this came out.  Enjoy.)

Her name was Vicki.  She passed away this weekend, after a too-long battle against cancer, well before her midlife.  I won’t pretend after her passing to know her better than I really did, but one could learn a lot from her by what she did not say, as well as what she did.

Vicki had a difficult adult life, most of which will not be referenced here.  Included in her list of challenges were breast cancer, near remission, and reoccurrence of cancer throughout her body.  Despite those circumstances over the past several years, people did not hear her complain, place blame, or curse fate. In her silence, one could hear her faith, poise, peace and resolve.

We often can say much more when we don’t speak; we can teach about reacting by our lack of actions.  Life is neither easy nor fair; it is neither logical nor just; and, we can have few true expectations from it.  In tribute to Vicki, I shall say little here tonight, other than that sometimes the most important lessons we can teach are those of our silence over speech, calm over rage, peace over fighting, and acceptance over blame.

God bless you, Vicki.