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I love Colorado. That isn’t to say I don’t appreciate the Indianapolis area, where I live, but I LOVE Colorado. One of the great blessings of my life is that my job takes me to Colorado for an extended time every two years. I have been making this pilgrimage for 28 years now, and it never gets old.

When I was single, the trek was easy. I just packed up and left. As my family grew, however, this trip required some planning…someone had to take care of our house, our yard and our dog.

Several years ago, when my kids were little, we asked an 18 year-old girl if she’d house-sit for us when we ventured west. She was mature for her age, and we knew that she’d take care of the place, and our dog, to the best of her ability. We returned to find the everything in good shape, and generally as we left it.

Or so I thought.

A couple days after returning home, I realized that there was a strange plant growing outside our back door. It wasn’t unusual for us to have a weed or two grow through the cracks of our brick pavers, but this plant looked strange….it had grown large very quickly and had red stems leading to the green leaves. I went to my computer and “googled” the plant, and when I saw the picture of my strange weed and read the description, I couldn’t act fast enough.

Jimson weed. Poison.

The description read: “Symptoms include incoherent speech, impaired coordination; rapid heart beat; and dry, flushed or hot skin. In extreme cases, users can experience seizures, intense visual or auditory hallucinations, or cardiac arrest.” Yikes!

Having small children who put everything in their little mouths, I was horrified. What might have happened had my kids found the plant before I did? I shudder at the thought even today.

The 18 year-old girl who watched this plant grow had no idea what it was. Why should she have considered it harmful to anything, much less my kids? She wasn’t wired to think that way. If I had one of my close friends staying in the house, however, I’m pretty sure they’d have been at least observant enough to know that I wouldn’t want a large nasty weed growing up through my pavers. Perhaps they’d have been a little concerned by the ominous look of that fast-growing weed as well.

Here’s my point….who’s watching your backyard? Do you have friends, close friends, who know you and love you enough to speak freely when they see poisonous plants growing in your backyard? Do you have people who will speak up when they see you jeopardizing your job, your kids or your marriage? Who is is your community that will be honest enough to uproot the poisonous plant that threatens you?

I’d love to hear your thoughts…

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Every once in a while I am reminded that there are people who have the gift of teaching. They are not necessarily teachers by profession, but they teach….having an amazing ability to connect to the heart of people in a way that is unique and powerful.

My brother Todd is like that. He is able to subdivide anything he is talking about into bite-size morsels that are easily digestible. Just last week, my 14 year-old listened to him share the physics and movements behind a particular knee-board trick. The first time my son tried to execute it, he performed it! Yes, he did a great job, but his teacher also connected with him, giving him everything he needed to know to learn effectively.

This afternoon I saw a video on TED that moved me….as much for the teacher’s skill as for the topic. If you have 20 minutes to spend, I think this video would be worth the investment.

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I remember when I first started playing golf. Like most new players, I was terrible. Slice right, pull-hook left. I was awful. As I continued to practice, however, I got better. Not PGA tour better, but I got the point where I could eventually break 100. I was ecstatic! I saw a few pars, the occasional birdie, lots of bogies and some 12’s. Not perfect, but hey, I could play.

Then I met Dave.

Dave was a really good player, and playing with him made me suddenly discontent with my progress. Sure, I could break 100, but could I break 90? I asked Dave….”Dave, can I break 90?” He said, “no”.

WHAT??? NO??

Well, he explained that I’d never break 90 as long as I kept the swing I had developed. To improve, I would basically have to start over, get quite a bit worse for a while, and rebuild my swing.

I did that, with great success….I was shooting 120 in no time!

As I continued to work on these new techniques, however, I began to see change….real change, and before long, I was scoring in the low 80’s. It was a painful process, but it worked at some level.

What’s the old saying (alternately attributed to Mark Twain, Benjamin Franklin or Albert Einstein)? Something like, “the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”

There are many areas of my life where I need to adopt a new strategy….I need to jettison my mediocre thinking and drive toward something better and more effective. Sure, in the short run, it may get messy. But I’d take a short term loss for a long term gain any day. How about you?

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Like many so-called golfers, (and when referring to my own game, even “so-called” could be considered a stretch!), I was mesmerized by the events this weekend at Augusta National Golf Club. The Masters is one of my all-time favorite events, and this year, it did not disappoint.

First, there was an opening round 67 by the 60-something Tom Watson, and another great round for the 50-something Freddie Couples. Then there was Phil, lighting up the links with his smile and his mad game…at one point, going 5-under on three holes! And of course, all the hoopla surrounding the return of Tiger Woods.

By now you know the story.

Mickelson, whose wife Amy has been battling breast cancer for the past year, showed courage and tenacity to defeat the field, including the embattled Woods.

In many national publications, the story of these two men has been seen as a morality play. Many writers have been clear….Phil’s victory was a victory for women and for all that’s good in sport. In their view, a Tiger victory would have sent the wrong message. (Click on these names to see articles by Rick Reilly and Jason Whitlock.)

In the midst of this drama, many sportswriters are ripping their colleagues. (Check out Greg Doyel and Michael Wilbon.) Their contention is that if you believe all the hype about Phil, then you are bound to be duped…again. Who knows….he might be a mirage, too?

This brings me to Malcolm Gladwell. In his amazing book “Blink“, Gladwell asserts that we often make judgements….correct judgements, in the “blink of an eye.” (It’s a great book….you should read it!)

Now, why does that matter in this instance? Because, frankly, I believe Phil to be exactly who he appears to be, and I never thought Tiger was who he appeared to be. That doesn’t make him a bad guy necessarily…just a guy who is not knowable from a distance. Watch Mickelson sign autographs sometime. He is always smiling, and he looks each person in the eye. His affection for his wife is obvious, and though some would paint him as a phony-too-good-to-be-true husband and father, those closest to him don’t fear him, they revere him.

This blog post is not meant to trash Tiger Woods. I just think it’s interesting that typically cynical sportswriters are being called out by their brethren for believing what their eyes saw. We could all be wrong. Tomorrow, Phil could be exposed as an ax murderer. But what does your “blink” tell you?

My blink says “believe it.”

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I meet with a group of men every Friday morning. These men are leaders…some of the “movers and shakers” in our community. (If you must know, I invited myself!) I love hearing the hearts of these men…their dreams and hopes and aspirations. I haven’t been involved with them for very long, but the time has became sacred to me.

Last week, the leader of the group asked us to share the time in our lives when we experienced the most freedom. My mind went into hyper-speed. Even with all my synapses firing, desperately seeking even a faint memory of a moment of freedom, I came up empty. It’s not that I feel bound up, it’s just that the pace of my life is so intense that I rarely feel free.

But then I remembered.

It was in my moment of greatest trial that I actually felt the greatest sense of freedom. My oldest son had been diagnosed with cancer, and after spending several weeks deciding on the treatment path, my “part” was completed. I had come to the end of myself and clearly recognized that I could no longer control anything really important. There was nothing more I could do, other than perhaps the most important thing – pray.

I was free.

As the men in that Starbucks shared around our table, each shared a similar exprerience. In their moment of greatest need, of greatest dependence, these world-changing men found freedom.

Funny, isn’t it? We spend our lives running from anything associated with pain, but it’s in pain that we find our greatest freedom and growth. Perhaps James was right when he told us to “consider it pure joy” when we encounter trials.

Something to think about….

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As I mentioned in a previous post, my mother was a television reporter/anchorwoman for many years.  Back then, the news was, comparatively, boring.  It consisted of…well….the news.  Local and regional politics, sports, weather, a human interest story here and there.  It wasn’t exciting, but it was…wait for it…relevant.  (Click here to see a newscast featuring my mom in 1977…you’ll get the idea!)

Today we don’t have the news.  We have “newstainment.”  Like everything else in our current reality, the bottom line is the bottom line, so you have to make the news “sexy” to the viewer in order to make the big bucks.

I recently was introduced to this totally “over the top” video produced by Jon Stewart.  In it, he lampoons CNN’s Rick Sanchez for his sensationalism, misinformation and his “over-caffeinated” approach to the recent earthquake and tsunami in Chile.  I do not endorse Jon Stewart’s language or his perspective in general, but this is hilarious…and it makes the point.

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Okay, I’ll admit the title of this blog post is weird.

For the past week I have been mesmerized by the Olympic Games. I have always loved the Olympics, but lately the Winter Games have been particularly intriguing to me. There is a “throw caution to the wind” element to many of the events. Influenced by the X-Games culture, this group of skaters, skiers, lugers, snowboarders, bobsledders and the lot are obsessed with derring-do.

Here’s the connection…I think. In order for these athletes to “do the derring”, they must have 100% commitment. They must completely sell out to their trick or run. In the immortal words of Mr. Miyagi, “Walk on road, hm? Walk left side, safe. Walk right side, safe. Walk middle, sooner or later get squish, just like grape. Here, karate, same thing. Either you karate do ‘yes’ or karate do ‘no.’ You karate do ‘guess so,’ squish, just like grape.”

Now, on to marriage. Research has proven over the years that couples choosing to live together before marriage are much more likely to be unhappy in their marriage. The most recent study completed at Denver University in 2009 confirms this. (Click here for the story.) One of the hypotheses is that as couples are afraid to commit wholeheartedly, they “slide” into marriage….with low expectations of the relationship and its potential longevity.

Whatever the reason, easing into commitment in relationships appears to have the same result as easing into an Olympic half pipe.

Squish, just like grape.

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Last summer, my son and I took the opportunity to enjoy a beautiful day on the golf course. Our twosome was joined by 2 40-something African American men. Both were the size of professional athletes and, to my shame, I naturally fell into that stereotypical assumption. As I began to ask some questions, however, it was obvious that I was in WAY over my head.

Both men were scientists that had turned their brains into successful careers in business. I was amazed by their obvious skill and drive. I’m not always the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I realized this was a moment where I could parlay this acquaintance into a life lesson for my son. I asked these guys, “What advice would you give a 14 year-old to set him on the road to success?”

“Learn to communicate effectively! Debate team, speech class…whatever it takes. LEARN HOW TO COMMUNICATE!”

Simple, yet profound.

We live in the era of texting language, horrible grammar and limited vocabulary. It seems to me that one communicating with style, substance and power IS the one-eyed man.

Let the coronation begin.

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Perhaps you are not like me.

While I go through most of my days with my head down working my way through my long and varied to-do list, I am by nature an emotional guy. I can go below the surface for long periods of time when necessary, but eventually I need to come up for air. Laughter, reading, praying, sports, deep conversation, and engaging in social media relationships are but a few of the ways I unwind. Nothing engages my heart, however, like the one thing that seems to be hard-wired into my soul.

Music.

Whether it’s Jane Monheit’s version of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”, Andrea Bocelli singing “The Prayer”, Mercy Me’s interpretation of “The Love of God” or the Rolling Stones searing “Gimme Shelter”, there is something in music that refreshes me, focuses me and challenges me. It gets to my heart, and I get honest with myself and how I’m doing “right quick.”

If you looked at my MP3 collection, you’d find artists as diverse as you can imagine. KT Tunstall, Springsteen, Tomlin, Crowder, Chicago, Supertramp, Sufjan Stevens, Gladys and her pips, Placido Domingo, The Police, Ray Charles, Santana, Jason Mraz, U2, Third Day….the list goes on and on.

There are, of course, songs on my iPod that are there for background music…or I just ignore them. Who knows why they are there? Perhaps they hit a spot in my heart years ago, but I’ve long forgotten why I purchased them. Still, as I sat listening to carefully chosen songs this morning, songs I picked specifically for the condition of my heart, I remembered just how great a gift the Creator has bestowed on us.

Are you like me?