Successful Blog

Change the World: Knowing When Not to Listen

by

Be the Teacher

changetheworld8

Listening. We all want to be heard. It’s often a gift to listen when someone needs to talk. But not always . . .

Sometimes we talk just to know that we’re here. Sometimes we rattle on without thinking about what we’re saying. Sometimes we talk to fill space or win favor. Sometimes we talk just to know we’re okay or to prove that we’re good enough.

I heard a parable about a teacher and a student. Sometimes I’m the teacher. Sometimes I’m not. It’s easy to be the student. I want to remember the story, so I pass it on.

On beautiful day centuries ago, a teacher was walking down a dirt road in the country, thinking teacherly thoughts.

A student, filled with excitement, ran up to the teacher saying, “Master, I have news you should know, important news, from the city.”

The teacher smiled at the student and slowed so the student could catch up and catch his breath. As they walked together, the teacher softly spoke.

“May I ask a few questions first?”

“Oh yes, of course, Teacher, yes,” the student gushed.

“This news you bring — does it tell a of a good deed?”

“Oh no, Teacher. Someone has done something wrong.”

“Do you know the person yourself?’

“No, Teacher. I don’t, but the person who told me does.”

“Do you know that the story is true?”

“My friend swears it is so.”

The teacher walked silently for a while so that the student might hear his own answers. When the teacher spoke again, it was almost a whisper.

“You wish to tell me bad news about someone you do not know about something you don’t know is true. This news is not important.”

The teacher asked three simple questions and knew whether to listen.

Those three questions make it easy to decide.

We can choose not to listen.

We can change the world — just like that.
–ME “Liz” Strauss

Change the World: If You Can’t Say Something Nice

by

Forgive the Guy You Don’t Like

changetheworld8

One of the best things about growing up shy is that I became an observer. I watch people and the patterns in our behavior. Yeah, I watch myself too.

Sometimes we do this curious thing. It’s as if we have two dictionaries. One dictionary we use when we talk about people we love and people we think are good. The other we use when we talk about people who scare us, have hurt us, or for some reason we have decided are not good enough.

The first dictionary has the words forgiveness and compassion. The second does not. When we decide we don’t like someone enough, we pick up that second dictionary. We find words like righteous and noble and use them to talk about ourselves and our feelings. Our noble selves decide how other folks think, forgetting entirely that they are people who love their children too.

I think that’s why my mother said, “If you can’t say something nice . . . ”

It seems a small thing, but it’s not. Think of the difference it would make in a life if we lived by that rule.

We can change the world — just like that.
–ME “Liz” Strauss

On this Birthday, It's about the Gifts

by

I've been thinking . . .

about the gifts.

On this July 3rd birthday, I’m thinking about the gifts, yeah, the gifts.

On school mornings, when I was my dad’s 6-year-old shadow, he would take me to breakfast at McGill’s diner, a tiny place by the railroad tracks. In that early morning hour, McGill, my dad, and I had a world no knew. The counter had four stools with red leather and silver that stood on each side of an opening ithat Mr. McGill walked through. A jukebox sat by the front window, it played old songs.

My dad and I always sat in last the booth, the fourth one by the big opening in the wall. One step down took me into an old-fashioned Toy Store to wander alone.

My dad and McGill would talk over breakfast. I’d take the quarter he gave me and play songs on that juke box “Red Roses for a Blue Lady,” “King of the Road,” and one more — maybe something by Nat King Cole. While the music played, I’d go into the toy store and contemplate one toy at a time. They seemed to belong together for me to visit every day before my dad took me to school.

Ah the gifts . . . the gifts I’m thinking about came from the feeling in Mr. McGill’s diner not his toy shop.

From my parents, I got my life and my learning. I can tell a story. I hardly worried about roadblocks put up to thwart me. He so loved people. She so understood and cared for them. They showed me where strength came from and they let me discover beauty.

From my brothers, I got protection and a sense of who I might be. One taught me how to communicate. The other taught me to play.

From my cousins, I got a sense of a big family. I got perspective and a wealth of popcorn-filled, backyard tales.

From the boy across the street, . . . going exploring in Kindergarent and our first kiss at 13.

A lifelong frienship started at 16.

Too many gifts to mention. I’m a lucky girl.

One cool, incredible gift is you — every morning, afternoon, and evening in my computer. It’s your thoughts. It’s the way you make me rethink my own. It’s the discoveries. It’s the laughter. It’s the way you make me better.

On this birthday, it’s about the gifts. Thank you.

Thanks for coming with on a visit to McGill’s Diner by the railroad tracks. I still remember all of the words to “Red Roses for a Blue Lady” and “King of the Road.”

I’ll always remember you.

Liz's Signature

Blog Herald Stories: Pursue the Passion Takes Off

by

Follow the Passion

Stop by the Blog Herald to read my interview with Brett Farmiloe and a review on his inspirational 2006 Pursue the Passion eBook.

The saying goes that when you want something, the universe conspires to help you achieve it. That has definitely been true for us as we have been getting an unbelievable amount of support for taking a risk and pursuing our passion.

The central reason we’ve had success in our pursuit is blogging. The power of blogging is something that most people don’t understand, and it was something I definitely didn’t understand it until three months ago when I started blogging on our site. Bloggers from all over the country soon found out about our trip and conspired to help us in any way they could.

Read Brett’s interview about the trip — which began yesterday — in today’s Blog Herald by clicking the logo.

The Blog Herald

It’s about blogging and real life.
–ME “Liz” Strauss

Related articles
Liz Strauss at The Blog Herald, The Blogging Times, and Who’s One in a Million?

Business and Life: The Rules of the Road

by

Road to Anywhere
I've been thinking . . .

about the rules of the road that make life flow more easily.

I’m not much for rules.

My husband says “Please don’t tell her ‘Don’t touch.’ She’s just like our son — if you do, then she’ll have to.”

But some rules make sense, like those that keep folks safe as we move in traffic. The rules of the road I’ve learned are simple to share, but often hard to remember. I’m thinking I should write some down now. . . . before I forget them again.

Before I set off, it’s good to know my destination or at least what direction I have chosen. I know I’ll constantly be making corrections, be stopping at times to make sure the plan is still a good one.

I need fuel to keep going. . . .

I need to know whether I’m good at mapping the trip, navigating, or making the journey happen. Hardly anyone is good at all of that. That’s why I need a few hearty traveling companions. The joy of sharing the experience, the people we meet, and the stories we make is the return on the investment..

It doesn’t slow me down when I stop to let someone go first. More often than not something good comes of it. I don’t get where I’m going any later.

When I drive extreme, I can’t pay attention to the details on the way there.

When I think I own the road, people act as if they agree, but they don’t. And they don’t see what I want them to see. They see me acting as if I’m important. In other words,

. . . when I think it’s about me, it’s not . . . It’s about them — what they need. Then I think it’s about them causing a problem, it’s not. . . . It’s about me –thinking I’m something special.

I don’t need a car to know the rules of the road — or the value in them. Even crossing the street, I know it’s best to look both ways first and to hold someone’s hand if I can. It makes the trip easier and adds to it.

And the road itself can take me anywhere I want to go.

What do you know about the rules of the road that you’re on? . . .

Liz's Signature

Everybody Things, Me Things, and Assumptions

by

I've been thinking . . .

about everybody things.

Everybody has them — “everybody” things and “me” things. I have them, always have. They show up in spades. My “me” things — idiosyncrasies and tiny rules about what I do — in some ways define me. One can appear so strikingly that some folks make an assumption. When Liz says anything about anything she’s talking about something that applies only to her. It happens. Really.

Everybody makes assumptions about how other people think and what it means.

Funny, when folks make assumptions that I only see “me” things, it happens most often about something I know deeply. It might be how children learn to read or how people process. I know when I see a certain look, hear a certain sound of agreement — a tone that says I’m humoring you. Folks who do that can’t see me, or they would know that I hear them.

Everybody misinterprets and misunderstands. Everybody gets misinterpretted and misunderstood too.

Everybody knows when we have done our best. We know also when we’re trying to make something work because we don’t want to do it over.

Everybody just knows some things. Who knows how we know some of them? Some things we just know. We know completely, deeply them because they came in our original packaging or we’ve lived them so long they have become a part of us. The final proof sits in our hearts, our heads, and our fingers.

Whether we trust that knowing seems to be a “me” thing.

Everybody has “me” things.

I have a “me” thing that says I only buy 3-5 books at a time unless it’s a book emergency. This “me” comes from knowing how long a book will last me and how I feel about the checkout process. I won’t go through the trouble for just 1 book, but with 6 books it’s likely 2 won’t get read because my interest could change before I get to them.

Everybody has “me” things they think are everybody things.

It probably starts when we are kids. If our family eats dinner at 6pm, we think That’s the way that all families do it. As we glimplse into other lives we realize such assumptions are more like sand than concrete.

Everybody makes assumptions . . . It’s a problem. We assume.

Assumptions often turn a “me” thing into an everybody thing. When someone does our “me” thing his or her way, we figure that person is different, difficult, resistant, not so smart, unyielding, stuck, or possibily, trying to push our buttons.

Everybody seems to make occasional faulty assumptions about some “me” thing. That causes miscommunication. Then everygody has feelings. Those feelings rush to protect “me” things. The feelings are “me” things. Contrary to belief not everybody hurts over stuff like that.

If only we could know our “me” things, everybody would be better at the everybody things we do.

Of course, not everybody cares what I think. Caring is always a “me” thing — we decide that for ourselves.

What’s an everybody thing to you?

Liz's Signature