What a waste it is to lose one’s mind.

— Dan Quayle

I had paid him a lot of money to say it to me; practically begged him to say it even.  And after everything that had gone on before, I deserved it.

“You’re an excellent mind-fucker,” he said.

My therapist had such a way with words.

I had spent the last two hours, indeed the last dozen sessions, kvetching over my devolving marriage, my career uncertainty and my existential angst.  Ivy trained to think logically, thoroughly, impeccably and completely, I had succeeded in analyzing, examining, decoding and deconstructing each and every aspect of my imploding psychological universe. All without any clarity – or benefit (to me) – whatsoever.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t think so much,” he said.

Good advice, that.

Not that there’s anything wrong with thinking.  It’s important to be able to think things through, weigh the pros and cons, consider the relative merits, perform the cost-benefit analysis, understand the risk-reward ratio. A sound intellect is, well, a sound thing to have.

It’s just that we can over think things way too much.

And the paradox is this: in doing so we can lose our way.

When we think about our goals and objectives, when we strategize and plot and plan, we never see the whole way through to the end. Sometimes the goal seems implausible, daunting and audacious; sometimes it seems unrealistic or even impossible.

Of course the goal-setting is essential. But the thinking and the planning are just a piece of the puzzle.

The magic is in the unfolding.

As a caterpillar cannot possibly think itself  a butterfly, we lack the capacity to think the full potential of our lives. Yet if we allow it, we become.

We start down paths, we think we know the steps. But we can’t possibly see the entire way.

We must trust in the process. It is in the process of our lives that we are transported, transformed,  made new again in ways that we could never have believed or foreseen or imagined – or thought.

Suddenly new horizons open. Fresh possibilities.

Our lives are not problems to be solved. They are adventures to be lived. And experienced.

When we over think, we fail to feel.

When we endeavor to wrestle our stuff to the ground with our intellects, we lose touch with our intuitions.  When we get caught up in our own minds, we lose touch with our bodies. When we stay in our heads, we lose touch with our hearts.

And our hearts always know.

Go ahead and think things through if you must. But then our job is to show up. With courage and with might.

Our goals will unfold. Our projects will unfold. Our dreams will unfold.

Don’t miss the experience along the way. Trust in the unfolding.

You have never known the way. You will never know the way. But the way knows the way. Remember, love would not have carried you this far to let you down. Love moves in mysterious ways, performs beneath a haze. But this unforeseen magnificent power takes us all the way. It make take us away from the way we may assume. But it takes us all the way.

— Tama J. Kieves

Midway upon the Journey of our life, I found myself within a forest dark, For the straightforward pathway had been lost…

— Dante, The Divine Comedy

I could see roughly how the groups ahead of me would sort out. I could begin to plot out my assault. That most of the others waiting in line for the Incredible Hulk roller coaster at Universal Studios were small children was of no consequence to me.  All that mattered was that I secure a seat in the front car.

Yes, I’m the guy in the front with his hands up in the air, laughing and screaming. I love roller coasters: the way they rise and fall, backwards and forwards, upside down and sideways.  The sharp curves, the unpredictability.

Kind of like life.  Except that I way prefer my roller coasters to remain in the amusement park.

I just bought the book by Lee and Bob Woodruff,  In An Instant.  It is the memoir of their lives in the shadow of Bob’s tragic injury caused by a roadside bomb in Iraq, at the pinnacle of their careers, just when it appeared as if they had it all.

The title reminded me of the opening lines from Joan Didion’s shatteringly beautiful The Year of Magical Thinking, recounting the months following her husband’s sudden death at the dinner table: “Life changes fast. Life changes in the instant. You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends.”

A dear friend of mine called me out of the blue recently. He wanted me to review his severance agreement. Incredibly intelligent, extraordinarily loyal, unfailingly devoted,  he had been shit-canned after years of faithful service to his company. In an instant.  With tuitions to pay.  And mortgages to service.

The Zen master says: “It is uncertain, eh?”

Life, death, sickness, unemployment. And all of the lesser things as well: the overdrafts, the broken car, the late appointment, the angry client.

The workout that was so fine yesterday so sucks today.  The funding that was in place a month ago disappears tomorrow. The chapter that looked so brilliant last night seems so flat in the morning light. The deal that looked so solid isn’t.

The report card that was so fine last year is in the tank. The financial aid was cut in half. The company has downsized.

The marriage that would stand the test of time didn’t. The investment that couldn’t fail did.

The Republicans are up; the economy is down; the market is flat.

Nothing stays as it is. The only certainty is change. And yet how desperately we cling.

I’m not a big fan of the roller coaster of life.  I love the highs.  But those unexpected turns. And that big plunge.  They way suck. A lot of screams; not many laughs.

It turns out though that it’s those who have the capacity for all that the ride has to offer that are the most successful.   Tal Ben-Shahar in his book Happier writes, “things do not necessarily happen for the best, but some people are able to make the best out of the things that happen.”  Indeed, Shawn Achor in his book The Happiness Advantage says, “The most successful people  see adversity not as a stumbling block, but as a stepping stone to greatness.”

We can learn how to find our way through adversity. We can learn to step well.

It requires skill. A ton of courage. Determination. And resilience.

There is an eleven mile stretch of road in Deals Gap along the Tennessee – North Carolina state line.  It’s called the Tail of the Dragon. Sports car drivers and motorcycle enthusiasts come from all over the world to test their mettle on the road’s 318 curves, with names such as Copperhead Corner, Gravity Cavity and Break or Bust Bend. Twisting and turning.

They say it’s an incredible ride.

To experience all of it, deeply and fully, to live it wholly and completely, but not to attach to any of it.  To stay engaged. And not discouraged. To stand tall when all we want to do is hide. That is the challenge.

The Warrior rides the dragon’s tail. Will you?

The Mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.”

— John Milton

They’ve all been lying to you.

Make your New Year’s resolutions.  Write out your goals.  Make your mind-maps.  Plan your year.  Work your plan.  Achieve success. And you’ll be happy.

It’s not true.

We’ve been inculcated with the notion that happiness is the brass ring; the carrot on the stick.  If I lose weight, then I’ll be happy.  If I get fit, then I’ll be happy.  If I become successful, then I’ll be happy. If I get rich, then I’ll be happy.  If, then.

The problem is that someone keeps moving the stick. Maybe we get happy for a fleeting moment. But the carrot keeps disappearing.  The brass ring is some Tolkien epic that never ends.

The endgame, the goalpost always seems to be just over the next hill, somewhere else. We make resolution after resolution. Goal after goal. Year after year. But it forever eludes us.

Here’s why: we’ve had it backwards all along.  Success doesn’t lead to happiness. Happiness leads to success.

Extensive research in the area of positive psychology conducted by Shawn Achor at Harvard University demonstrates “that happiness and optimism actually fuel performance and achievement.”

“We become more successful when we are happier and more positive,” writes Achor in his brilliant new book The Happiness Advantage. “It turns out that our brains are literally hardwired to perform at their best not when they are negative or even neutral, but when they are positive.”  And happy. “Happiness causes success and achievement, not the opposite.”

But where do we find this thing called happiness? How do we get happy?

Here’s the scoop:  happiness is here and now.  It exists only in this very moment, Thich Nhat Hanh teaches. Not somewhere else; not at some other time or some other place. But here before us. Here in our present experience. Here before our very eyes. Right in our own back yards, Dorothy might say.

Happiness is a choice. We choose happiness.  Or not.

Sure there is chemical imbalance.  Sure there is clinical depression. But by in large, our generalized unhappiness – our willingness to defer our happiness until some indefinite “promised land” – is a cultural bias, a kind of learned helplessness, a societal brainwash.

We have the capacity to retrain our bad selves. And get happy.

And by getting happy, I’m not talking about engaging in being some kind of Pollyanna-like charade. We are surrounded by challenges every day of our lives. And bad shit happens. Rather, as Achor suggests, the principals of positive psychology ask us “to be realistic about the present while maximizing our potential for the future.  It is about learning to cultivate the mindset and behaviors that have been empirically proven to fuel greater success and fulfillment.  It is a work ethic.”

And isn’t it worth the effort? Isn’t it what we want?

Think about the changes we could bring about in ourselves and in our world by cultivating happiness, by committing to happiness. Think about how contagious happiness is; think about the impact it could have on those we love, on those we serve.

Happiness is success.

Will you commit? Will you make the choice to be happy?

Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms — to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.

—  Viktor Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning

We’re drawn to the spectacular: Armstrong’s moon walk and Earhart’s flight.

We’re mesmerized by the magnificent: Mozart’s arias and Michelangelo’s chapel.

We’re captivated by the courageous: Mandela’s resistance and King’s walk.

We love the epic tale and a hero’s victory.

But why do we believe that they are not our own?

So often we stand on the sidelines and watch as spectators to greatness.  So often we fail to see – fail to know – the greatness of which we ourselves are capable.

Why do we play small when we can play big?

Another year has come and gone. Have we written the book, composed the song, patented the project, painted the picture, taken the trip, flown the balloon, established the foundation, learned to dance, started the business, explored the savannah, learned to fly, dived the reef, seen the Taj, rafted the river, taken the plunge, run the race?

(Or have we watched the television, surfed the net, fought the Mafia Wars, browsed in WalMart and competed in FarmVille?)

What are we waiting for? Do we think there’s time?

There is no time. Time is running out. The time is now.

Big is in. Small is out.

Stepping up: in.  Muddling: out.

We know the end game.  We’re not getting out alive.  So what’s the risk?

And why are we waiting?

A new year dawns.  It’s time.

Where do you want to be in your life on December 31, 2011?  What do you want to have accomplished?  Write it; make pictures of it; make it real.  Map it out; chunk it down. Plan the steps. Schedule the steps. Make it manageable. Commit.

And then take action.

Fight resistance. Build momentum.

Believe in yourself and in what you can accomplish.  But know that you can’t go it alone.

Surround yourself with people who believe in your greatness, who support your goals. We are the average of the five people with whom we spend most of our time.  Take a careful look around. And choose wisely.

Get a coach.  Find an accountability partner. Seek out communities of support.  Invest in yourself.

I discovered a wonderful community this year: MightClub. It’s comprised of thinkers and dreamers, artists and writers, entrepreneurs and innovators and healers.  It provides inspiration, support, encouragement and accountability. Its founders seized on the word Might for its meaning of both power and possibility; the power and possibility to live bigger.

Find out what you need to do for yourself to nurture and achieve your dreams.  Find out what you need to do to live your life Bigger. Find the Might in your life. Make it happen.

The sweep second hand of the clock is gone and our digital time pieces delude us. I keep a large hour glass in my studio. From time to time, I turn it over and watch the sand trickle through. It is a stark reminder that times passes whether we act or not.

As we move in to 2011, we need to believe in possibility again. And in our own innate power.  Spectators no longer. Participants in greatness. Heroes in our own epic ventures. With audacity and courage.

May 2011 be filled with Might.

“Change today?” the beggar asked.

There was a touch of anger. Some sarcasm. A bit of sadness too.

My son glanced up at me sideways. “So now you want to be a father?” I’d been endeavoring to share some hard-earned, had-fought, hard-edged wisdom.  The conversation had been difficult. The topic unpopular.  The message unwelcome.

A long silence.

“Now you want to be a father?” he asked again.  (Indeed, I haven’t always been the best dad I could be.)

“Yes, now,” I said. “I get to change and grow too, you know.”

That’s the beautiful part: we do.

We’re not caught.  We don’t have to stay the same, be the same, do the same things, go the same places, have the same job, get stuck in the same relationships, be the same weight, have the same level of fitness, make the same amount of money, have the same outlook on our life.  We can mix it up, turn it upside down, play it sideways. All out. Or not at all.

We get to choose. We get to change.

It is easy to feel stuck, to get stuck.  All of us have been there.  We get overwhelmed by the circumstances of our lives: by the financial pressures we feel, by the demands of our jobs, by the expectations of our clients and customers, by our responsibilities to our children and significant others and loved ones.  We travel down long rabbit holes into careers that we are good at but that are unfulfilling, that fail to nurture and satisfy us at the deepest levels. We find ourselves in relationships that once fed us but now, perhaps only through the ebb of time, slowly poison. We wake up overweight and out of shape with cholesterol that’s too high and estrogen that’s too low and blood pressure that’s elevated and a sex drive that’s not.  It feels too complex to untangle the tangled web; too difficult to overcome the status quo. The maze is too complicated and the cheese is nowhere to be found.

Can we get out? How do we get out?

We get to choose. We get to change.

I felt sad last week at the news of Mark Madoff’s suicide.  Bernie was a thief.  His son was collateral damage: burdened so by the sins of his father, not sensing hope, not seeing or knowing a way out, not believing that there was a way through, a way beyond.

There is always a way beyond.

Ann describes her father’s later years: disillusioned, he moved away; caught in cycles of hopelessness and isolation, he self-medicated with alcohol; and died alone.  He couldn’t believe that his world could be different.

The worlds we create can always be different.

We get to choose. We get to change.

Sometimes we need encouragement.  Sometimes we need coaching or professional help. Sometimes we need patience.  Sometimes we need a kick in the butt.  But the door is always open. It is our birthright to continually transform our lives, ourselves.

We in the Northern climes celebrated the winter solstice this week. The shortest day has come and gone. Light has triumphed over darkness once again.  The seasons change.  And so do we.

Years ago, renowned saxophonist Paul Winter composed a haunting instrumental piece as a hallmark of his magnificent winter solstice celebration: The Turning Point Suite.

Each moment in our lives is an opportunity, a turning point. Sweet.

Change today?  Yes, today.

See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.

— Isaiah 43:19