You know damn well you will never reheat that pasta.
French fries suck when you microwave them. What the hell are you going to do
with just 5 nachos anyway? 

 Guilt. Guilt is the reason you brought that food home.
Guilt is a powerful thing. Maybe it's the brainwash job your parents did to you
growing up? You know, the one about the starving kids in Ethiopia or Africa.
Those commercials with the flies and the kids with extended bellies and Sally
Struthers telling you to donate your coffee money? They did a number on most of
us growing up and our parents used it as leverage to get us to eat our Lima
beans.

 It's ok. You didn't do anything wrong. To quote the emotional
Robin Williams and Matt Damon scene in the Movie Good Will Hunting "It's
not your fault...it's not your fault". 
This behavior is a product of your upbringing and the programming that
your family did to your brain.

 Guilt is baggage. Guilt is weight. Guilt often takes up
space in your head and heart; much like that half eaten meatball sandwich. That
sandwich, for some odd reason, you put in the crisper drawer in the fridge. Why
in the crisper?  Because you don't want
to see it. Seeing it reminds you of the guilt. Hiding it behind something keeps
you from seeing it when you look in the fridge and realize that you have
"nothing...nothing at all" to eat and order a pizza. Only to leave
that pizza in the box, in your fridge, for 4 days before you toss it out as
well.

 You've got to deal with guilt in your life. You can't let
it consume you and fill the refrigerator shelves of your life.  When you take it "home" with you,
then you need to digest it and not let it sit there as a constant reminder of
unfinished business. Unfinished things and shame only hold you back and slow
down your forward progression.

 We all have baggage. We all have guilt. It's important to
recognize it, process, dispose or consume it. Nobody is forcing you to hang
onto that guilt; just like nobody is forcing you to take home the leftover
lasagna. The server will not judge you. Nor will the people sitting at the
table next to you.

 I've said some pretty dumb things in my life. I've hurt
feeling and caused my share of drama. I recognize it, accept it and have
learned from it. It doesn't do any good to sit there, day after day, and let it
weigh on my brain and heart. What's done is done, what was said was said and in
order to grow, I've had to move on. I'm not numb and my heart isn't frozen like
those chicken nuggets that have been in the freezer since 2014.  I am just as hard on myself as you are and I
haven't given myself a pardon for my actions. 
I just learned to properly stack and sort the things that matter in
life. To not allow my leftovers to become heavier than they need to be. To
throw away items that no longer teach me something or provide
"nourishment" to my overall being. I have forgiven myself for things
that I have done and forgiven others because it's the right thing to do.

 Clearing the shelves in your life allows for bigger,
better and healthier things to come your way. Take inventory of your heart and
mind and #Tryharder to make the changes needed to move forward.

 

You see, my dad spent most of my formative years looking
for standing trees, fallen trees and stacks of brush to cut up for fire wood.
He didn't just settle for cutting the trees he owned, he would go and seek out
trees to cut up with his chainsaw. He would ask people if he could cut down
their trees! Whenever the state road crews would knock down trees on the side
of the road to make room for roads or clear these trees from power lines, my
dad would have my brother and I get up early on Saturday just to go and
"steal" this wood for our own use. Some of you have dads that wake up
early on the weekends to go play a round of golf. My dad was swinging
"woods" alright, but not till after he cut them down!

Jim Murphy is somewhat of an amateur lumberjack. He knows
a ton about the science of cutting down trees, but never went pro. My brother
Michael and I would load his chainsaw and other gear into the back of "Old
Blue" (his trusty and rusty pickup truck with around 500k miles on it)
wipe the sleep from our eyes and begrudgingly climb into the cab.

We hated this activity. Absolutely hated it. Besides Jim
Murphy, who the hell wants to wake up and do this shit every weekend?  Nobody. What a bullshit hobby! Not a damn
person on earth thinks this is a good idea except for "Big" Jim.
Michael and I were not allowed to swear in front of our parents, but there is a
certain non-verbal communication that siblings have and our faces pretty much
said "fuck this shit".

One time, as we headed out to "liberate"
(that's how my dad probably viewed it) this wood from the piled up prison
stacks of brush created by bulldozers; a beautiful and magical thing happened.
You see, sometimes the highway department burns brush so they don't have to
move them elsewhere. Ash can be spread out, whereas brush has to be moved. As
we traveled down the county road at 6am in the morning, my brother and I
couldn't help but notice the smell of burning oak in the air. Too dark to see
smoke, but as we drove past each pile of burned or burning wood, we begin to
light up with Christmas-like glee!  Stack
one, stack two, three and four. All burned. Untouchable and of no use to Jim
Murphy!  Aha!

As we did our best to cover our smiles, my dad grew
angrier. It begin with a mumble and then it quickly escalated to yelling as we
drove past each smoldering stack of wood. We turned around and headed back
home. My brother and I knew better than to say anything. Tons of sarcastic
thoughts ran through our heads, but now was not the time to begin our standup
comedy careers. Careers that would be cut short by my dad killing us with his
chainsaw. My father insulted everything and everyone in that 20 minute drive
home and it was fantastic!  Angry
poetry!  I am sure he was thinking that
this was somehow my mom’s fault, as he needed to apply blame to somebody or
something. Michael and I did nothing to earn it, but we "won" that
day. It was a good day. If we were old enough to do it, we would have drank the
finest scotch and smoked the most expensive cigars while celebrating our finest
moment. The Alamo was a big battle for Texas, but the Murphy boys defeating
General "Big" Jim Murphy should be printed in Texas History text
books! 

Ok. So back to the tree.

Like when I was a kid, I don't really ask questions
whenever my parents ask me to help them do things. I revert back to childhood
and just "get in the truck". I just grabbed a shovel and a few other
tools and headed over to the tree. Although, I had to wonder, out of all the 10s
of thousands of trees that grow on that property, why my dad needed this one
moved.

You see, this tree had a backstory. It's wasn't your
average acorn falls, squirrel buries it, rain falls and it sprouts kind of
story. Although I am sure that this tree started out that way, but it has an
even more profound backstory than that. Years ago, my father and my older
brother Michael were clearing cedar and brush in that area and they discovered
something unique. Unique enough to stop what they were doing and spare the life
of this one tree.

There are tons of different kinds of oak trees in Texas.
I would know as I spent my weekends "liberating" them. If you were to
look around the property, this oak was the only one of its kind. It's color and
the shape of its leaves were unlike any other and the fact that it was
underneath and getting choked out by two very large, older and different oak
trees, meant that this tree had a curious backstory. It had to go through a lot
to get where it was. To grow in a spot that it wasn't supper to be in. To
survive long enough and grow tall enough for my dad and brother to notice it
amongst all the brush and cedar growing around it and to eventually be the one
and only tree pardoned by my semi-pro lumber jacking father. And yes, because
it was associated with my now deceased brother, the tree had additional
meaning.

After 3 hours, we moved it.

Sometimes that's life. Sometimes it is about hanging on
long enough to get noticed. You do the almost impossible and #Tryharder, but
the large oaks throwing shade attempt to prevent you from growing. Sometimes
that shade is self-imposed and mentally created. Sometimes you need to cut
through that shade and realize what's on the other side. You flourish on your
own, but occasionally need the help of others to lift you up and help you
grow.  Sometimes you need to smile and
celebrate your minor victories in life like a couple of teenage boys that just
wanted to sleep in on a Saturday morning. 

I'm sitting in front of a large swimming pool watching my
daughter swim; separated by a 1/2 inch piece of plexiglass. She swims from one
end of the pool to the other as she practices different skills and drills shouted
out by her instructors. This is how I have spent my Saturday mornings for the
past few months. This is also when I have a tendency to write. I would say that
my eyes lock in on my daughter 60% of the time, while the other 40% is spent
looking at the screen and fixing the words that I typed without looking. Yes,
most of my blogs and words that are to be put into this book were written on my
iPhone. Authors in LA and New York sit behind a laptop in coffee shops all day.
I type on my iPhone while watching my 8 year old do the backstroke.

 

Why during swim class? Maybe it's the smell of the
chlorine or that this is one of the few times I am completely alone.  I can hear the voices of other parents and
the chatter of other kids waiting for their swim group to be announced, but
overall the room is pretty quiet. There is almost a soothing hum in the room
that I assume comes from all the equipment that runs the system for the pool.
Regardless, I feel inspired and alone here; regardless of the 20 other people that
are seated around me. Same goes for when I write at the airport. I'm surrounded
by the energy of people and noises, but not distracted by conversations. I come
up with lots of ideas in the shower too, but blogging in the shower isn’t really
an option.  Being alone is a good thing
for inspiration and clearing your mind of distractions, but sometimes those
distractions keep us from dwelling on certain things. Not necessarily terrible
things, but for many of us, painful things.

 

If you have followed any moments of my life or read my
last book or even some of the blogs, you'll see me occasionally reference my
brother Michael. He passed a while back and although time heals most pain, it
certainly doesn't completely remove it. Nor should it. When he died and all the
feelings and emotions were fresh, I did a lot to stay busy. Busy hands and busy
minds keep us distracted from dwelling on the pain. Eventually you will have to
cope and confront that pain, but allowing yourself some time to process and
digest it in smaller amounts makes it easier to swallow. We buried him on mine
and my wife's 13th anniversary because that's just how it had to work out. I
spent that week building a cocktail arcade system for my wife and the confusion
and frustration of that project kept me from having to deal with everything all
at once. (If you don't swear and drink while building something, you're doing
it wrong).  So yes, my anniversary will
always have a double meaning.  It is what
it is, but at least I'll be able to remember the date 40 years from now.

 

When Michael had quiet and alone time, he struggled. Not
always, but enough to mention. Sometimes he would drink the time away. Other
times he would call everyone in his phone, sometimes more than once in a day,
just to keep from doing destructive things or activities that would not be
considered the most positive.  He was not
always good with what many of us call our "me" time. I've said it
before, but he was a better friend to others than they were to him or he was to
himself.

 

How are you spending your "me" time?  Are you using these moments to heal your
mind, create or better yourself?  I'm not
talking about your down time where you binge watch bad TV shows on Netflix or
watch 6 hours of the cooking channel as you lay on the couch, too lazy to
change the channel or get up to pee. I'm talking about those minutes in the day
where you have a moment to yourself to reflect on life and the contributions
you are making to the world. You know, those “who am I and why am I here” kind
of moments. Could be 5 minutes. Could be in the 30 minute commute. The quiet
time where you are stuck with yourself and your thoughts.  For some, these moments can be scary.  They can force you to face things you don’t
want to process.   

 

I'll be more specific. When I am given this time, I often
think about my brother Michael. I think about our conversations. The stories.
The jokes and the unique way he and I communicated. A form of communication
that died when he died. I don't dwell on the negatives because nothing healthy
comes of it. I think about the good things. I focus on the positive things I
can contribute to my life and the world around me.  I think about how I can pick up on the good
things he did and carry them with me.  I
think about how I can do right by the people he loved and cared about-no matter
how challenging that may be.  I think
about the need for me to be better.  Yes,
better. 

 

You see, every day, I am given a choice. I spend over an
hour of my day in the car, driving back and forth to work and I make the best
of it.  This time allows a true
#Tryharder moment.  Instead of allowing
the moments of my life, that I have no control over, consume me and possibly
scar or warp my thoughts; I choose to focus on healthy and controllable things.  I can control being better. I'm not being
glib and I am not prime for a midlife crisis fueled by not living in reality.
Each day I am given a choice and I choose to contribute and be positive. I
choose to make the best of what I have in the present and the best with the
remaining memories I have of my childhood. I choose to take better inventory of
my day and make sure that I am applying energy towards the people and things I
can influence in my life. I choose to #Tryharder and hopefully you do as well.
Make the best use of your time on this earth, do right by those in your life
and those you have lost along the way. Be better. Don't let your reflection
time sour your outlook on life or allow you to create crutches or self-imposed
mental and physical roadblocks.

 

They say it takes more muscles to frown than it does to
smile. Choose to smile.