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Yesterday, as I contemplated a tall stack of work on the desk of my home office, I thought, “I can never finish this.”

Then I remembered a story from my past. It’s one I’ve shared before in People Tools, but because it illustrates an important lesson, I believe it’s worth re-telling.

When I was thirty my good friend John talked me into doing something I had never done before, or since.  It was a three day backpacking trip, and on our journey I learned a significant life lesson that has remained with me for the past fifty years.

On the first day of our adventure we climbed a twisting trail which cut back and forth across a lovely brook strewn with slippery rocks.  My sleeping bag and spare clothing were on my back.  John, more experienced, carried everything else, including a small stove.

At sundown we reached our campsite and pitched our tents beside a deep blue lake in the high Sierras.  There were only a few bugs, and John assured me that no tarantulas lurked nearby, waiting to crawl into my sleeping bag while I slept.

Even though I was exhausted, I did not sleep well that night.  I wasn’t accustomed to the 9,000 foot altitude, and I had forgotten to ask John about black widows.  I woke often, gasping for breath.

The next morning, as we enjoyed breakfast, John pointed to a mountain peak.

“”That’s Army Pass,” he said.

‘Uh huh.”

“That’s where we’re going to climb today.”

“Excuse me, John.  Does ‘we’ include ‘me’?”

“Of course.  You’ll love it.”

It was time for a serious chat.

“John, that mountain is towering over us and its way up in the sky.  I’ve never hiked as much as I did yesterday, I didn’t sleep well, and I’m tired.  Why don’t you climb the mountain yourself, maybe even visit the leprechauns if you like. I’ll relax and enjoy the fresh scent of pines while I watch the little fishies swimming in the lake.”

“Alan, it’s an easy climb.  I’m sure you can make it.”

“To the top?  No, I can’t.”

“We can go at your pace.”

“What does that mean?”

“The trail has a lot of switchbacks.  We can walk slowly, and you can stop to rest whenever you want to.”

This was John’s version of the Godfather – an offer I couldn’t refuse.  But still, I asked for clarification.

“So if we’ve hiked for two hours, or even for only two minutes, we can stop and come back down if I like?

“Any time.”

“No penalty,”

“None at all.”

Damn!  I felt trapped.  Encouraged, but trapped.

“And I’ll carry lunch,” he said.  “So you don’t have to carry a thing.”

“Yeah, except myself!”

We started out.  I set a very slow pace.  The switchbacks weren’t too steep, and I only needed to stop to rest after every other one.  John kept talking and reminding me to admire the scenery as we climbed.

We left at nine am.  Shortly before noon, walking a little ahead of me, John said, “We’re at the top.”

And we were.  I had actually climbed a mountain in fewer than three hours.  Well, not all of the mountain.  We started from the lake, which itself was pretty high.  But I felt a huge sense of achievement. I had accomplished something I never thought possible, something I wouldn’t even have tried without John’s encouragement and offer to let me walk at my own pace.

I reflect back on that experience often, especially when I face a task which seems insurmountable, as I did yesterday.

I’ll bet that in your life you’ve climbed a few mountains of your own. Perhaps you’ve been joined by an encouraging friend.

We climb a mountain every day.  Hopefully, each day we remind ourselves to enjoy the view.

Alan

Is the drinking glass of your life half full or half empty?

Neither.

When you feel gratitude as a way of life your glass is always entirely full.

I recently read an article on how to achieve happiness. It cited pivotal research by Daniel Kahneman, winner of the 2002 Nobel Memorial Prize in Economic Sciences. Kahneman concluded that beyond a certain level of income (the study said $75,000), self-reported happiness does not increase with greater income. So happiness does not necessarily depend upon how much money you have.

Another researcher determined that happiness is fifty percent genetic (choose your parents carefully), and that there are just two major factors that lead to greater satisfaction in life.

Gratitude.

Helping others.

Today I’m thinking about gratitude. I remember the astute advice of a friend who suggested to me a few years ago, “Don’t ask why this is happening to you. Ask, instead, why is this happening for you?” In other words, look for the positive lesson in any experience.

I am grateful for fresh air, trees, and the scent of night blooming jasmine. I’m grateful for many friends, excellent health, and my ability to find a silver lining in any situation. I’m grateful that I was born in the mild climate of Los Angeles and that I have always been able to live here. I’m grateful for fine medical care, the availability of tasty and healthy food, and my capacity to contribute to society through my writing.

In the final chapter of my book People Tools for Love and Relationships I talked about J, a friend of mine who lives by herself in a rented mobile home in a forest in Harbor, Oregon. She was seventy years old at that time. When I visited her a few weeks ago, J was seventy-four.

The two of us sat in chairs on her front porch, talking for hours about our memories and our friendship of almost fifty years. In some respects J has led a difficult life. When she was young she was physically abused by her parents, leading to serious life-long trouble with her back. J is in pain every day, and at night she cannot sleep for more than two hours at a time. When she was fifteen J was kicked out of her home, carrying only a small suitcase. For the next six months she lived on the streets of Hollywood. Even so, J has always helped others with whatever small resources come her way.

When I lived with J for several years in the 1970’s she was often sad. But during our recent visits J has been in high spirits. She has seemed quite happy, despite her painful back and a heart attack a year ago.

I asked J, “What do you remember as the happiest time of your life?”

She answered immediately. “Right now. Today.”

J is grateful for everything. The forest, the sunset we shared, and our heartfelt conversation on her front porch. When I left we shared a lovely hug.

At the age of seventy-eight I no longer try to shape the world to be what I desire. To the contrary. I am simply grateful for the silver linings that I find everywhere I look.

Get in touch with your gratitude every morning, every afternoon, and every evening. And live your gratitude right out loud. Let others know what you appreciate about them.

When you do, your glass will be completely full. And it will stay that way.

Alan

Let me be clear.  I do own a pogo stick.  I do not own a dog.

This means that my title is factually incorrect even though it feels emotionally accurate.

I must admit that my pogo stick adventure is not my top priority. Also, I believe that I can do just about anything at the last minute and still be successful.  So this morning I wrestled my pogo stick away from my nonexistent dog (who was chewing on it), and asked Sprite to help me find my bicycle pump. I located my helmet and ankle protectors all by myself.

I then viewed the six-minute video with some helpful hints from the pogo stick company on how to not kill yourself when using their product.  For example, “Do not use your pogo stick when there is water.  It will slip and you could be injured.”

Fair enough.  My plan was proceeding well.  Except that next I had to pump air into the pogo stick.  There were no instructions on how to do this, and I simply could not figure it out. Without air pressure it would not bounce.

So I took my pogo stick and all my accessories to my office and asked my tech expert for help.  He showed me where to pump in the air (right on top, as it turns out). But after lunch he disappeared and now I can’t even find the pogo stick.

I enjoyed dinner last week at the Los Angeles Magic Castle.  Their food and the show were outstanding.  I was reminded of the last magic show I saw there many years ago.

The magician appeared on stage swinging a twenty foot length of rope.

“I am about to perform the small boy rope trick,” he said. “I will throw one end of this rope into the air, where it will stay, and a small boy will them climb up the rope and disappear.”

That sounded good to me.  I like to be mystified by magicians.

“Is there a small boy in the audience?” the magician asked.  “A small boy?  No more than sixty pounds?”

He put his right hand above his eyes, to block the lights.  “I need a small boy.”

Then he sighed, and gave up.  “No small boy, no small boy rope trick.”

That is exactly how I feel right now.  No pogo stick, no pogo stick blog.

Next week.  I promise.  Again.  Or maybe I’ll just go out and buy a big dog with an enormous appetite.

Alan