Header Image - Alan C. Fox

The Inner Game of Peace

by Alan C. Fox 1 Comment

World peace depends on the fears, thoughts, and actions of a whole lot of people outside of me.  My personal inner peace depends exclusively on what goes on inside my mind.

When we’re upset it’s easy for any of us to point the index finger of disdain at a spouse, politician, friend, or boss. But such mental finger-pointing provides, at best, short-term consolation.  Respite is fleeting, inner struggle endures.  The opiate of blame is brief balm.

Is there a reliable path to inner peace?  Yes, there is.  But it’s up to you, and you alone, to regain and sustain your personal inner peace.  Ay, there’s the rub.

From 2008 until two weeks ago I’ve been unhappy (no reflection on Sprite or anyone else).  I personally blamed the economy, with more than a little justification.  From 2008 through 2012 my business hemorrhaged money, investors lost a great deal of income, and I’ve never in my life received so many letters and telephone calls of complaint.  I read news stories about people losing their homes.  Many of my friends lost their jobs. I came to understand why my father would walk half a mile to avoid a twenty-five cent parking fee.  He was in his teens when the Great Depression hit and left its mark.

Ed, a long-term friend of mine, recently said, “Alan, for the past year you’ve seemed a lot happier than you used to be.”

Many other friends and family members have mentioned that I’ve seemed happier during the past twelve months, and I suppose I have – at least on the outside (stiff upper lip and all that).  But inner peace remained elusive, obscured behind my continuing inner turmoil.

Like my father, I’m always thinking.  My inner conversation has no “off” switch.  I always ask myself how I can improve [fill in the blank].

Two weeks ago, for no particular reason, I experienced an “Aha!” moment.  I said to myself:

“I’ve been pushing too hard.

“I’ve been married to my business for 50 years.  During the past twenty I remember only two days when I left my office satisfied with what I’d accomplished.  Two days in twenty years.  That sucks.  I’ve pushed myself hard regardless of my personal situation, the policies of the president, or the state of the economy.”

Though all of the above still concern me, I realize that my inner peace has nothing to do with any of that.  As they say, we can’t control what happens to us but we can control our reaction to it.

During the past two weeks I’ve been authentic.  I’ve relaxed and enjoyed conversations with friends.  I’ve been more productive at work because the boogeyman of “never enough” has left the building.  Today I’m exactly as happy as I seem.

I must also mention that for many years my father has been a gem.  He’s always upbeat, considers each day a bonus, and says “thank you” whenever I call or visit.  He uses many medications, but not the drug of blame.  Despite inevitable physical decline, Dad seems far happier than he was at the youthful age of ninety.

Today is a great day.  My inner peace no longer hides behind a cloud.  So now I’m free to focus on world peace.  Your suggestions are welcome.

Alan

9 views

Late Morning Rain

by Alan C. Fox 2 Comments

One of my favorite musicians is Gordon Lightfoot. Last Friday evening Sprite and I attended his concert at the Rose, a dinner theater in Pasadena.  I typically object to being required to arrive by 7:00 pm for a 9:00 pm concert, but I’m happy to report that both dinner and the show were excellent.  We were seated about twenty feet from the stage. I have found over the years that my enjoyment of a performance often depends on how close I am to the stage.  After all, none of us would enjoy a conversation if we were seated two hundred feet apart.

Gordon and his band appeared on schedule, and I was delighted that he performed well even though he is a year older than I am. When I was thirty I started paying attention to the age at which writers were first published.  I was happy to find that most were older than me.  At age sixty I stopped that foolish comparison.  My first book, People Tools, was published when I was seventy-four.

One benefit of aging is that you don’t care quite so much about what other people think of you. Gordon, who suffers from allergies, used nasal spray, followed by Kleenex, several times during his performance.

He shared stories from his life. Early in his career, he was hired to appear on a Square Dance show that was televised live.

“I never could learn the difference between an ‘Allemande Left’ and a ‘Dos-e-do.’  And it was a live show.”  He did not last long on that job.

Gordon also shared that Elvis Presley sang one of his songs, “Early Morning Rain,” at a concert in New York.  Gordon and his friends crossed the border from Canada to attend the concert.  They were invited to meet Elvis, but after the show it was difficult for them to make headway through the tide of people exiting.  When Gordon and his group finally arrived backstage at Elvis’s dressing room they were told the now proverbial, “Elvis has left the building.”

“I never did meet Mr. Presley,” Gordon said, a bit wistfully.

I was reminded of a charity performance I attended years ago hosted by Paul McCartney.  Major Hollywood stars, including Tom Hanks, seemed thrilled to be performing with Paul.  We all have our heroes.

Our Friday evening at the Rose included many of my Gordon Lightfoot favorites, including “Rainy Day People,” “If You Could Read My Mind,” and “Sundown,” which was his only song to reach No. 1 on Billboard’s all-genre pop chart.  The audience responded to many songs with a standing ovation.

Gordon and I and perhaps you, either now or in the future, share a fate in which our lives move from having only a few accomplishments and a dollar in our hand to a great deal more success and, hopefully, money.  But when we do it’s no longer so early in our lives.

Welcome to the fulfillment of Late Morning Rain.

Alan

4 views

This Is the Week That Was

by Alan Fox 2 Comments

It is early Sunday evening. I’m at home sitting at my desk.  My father, who will be one hundred and three years old next month, is in the hospital.  He should be released tomorrow.

That’s the who, what, and when.  But there’s always more to the story.

Last Monday night my dad couldn’t sleep because of pain in his abdomen.  On Tuesday morning he asked to be taken to the hospital. He also asked that my son Steven, who is a doctor, take care of him.  Steven left work and we all met at the emergency room at the UCLA Medical Center in the early afternoon.

The problem was an inflamed gall bladder.  The best solution was to drain the excess fluid.  I won’t go into details.  There’s a reason I refused to become a doctor despite my parents’ strong suggestion that I should.  I was squeamish.  To some extent I still am.

On Thursday, after the medical procedure, when my dad was asked to describe his level of pain he said, “ten-plus.”

Even in the best hospitals you need an advocate, someone who will stay with you to check on everything and ask for help – loudly, if necessary. At one point the doctors ordered Tylenol and additional medication for pain but the nurse told us the chart reflected an order for “Aspirin,” and to discontinue all pain medication. Someone entered the information incorrectly.  There is many a slip twixt cup and lip.

My dad’s attitude toward death is impressive.  “Every day is a bonus,” he has told me many times.  In the hospital he said, “I don’t know if living past one hundred is a reward or a punishment.” His sense of humor is always welcome.

For many years I’ve lived with the possibility of my dad’s death. But the intellectual possibility and the immediate possibility, or probability, are like the difference between fearing you will lose your job, and being summoned to your supervisor’s office at 5pm on a Friday.

Dad was supposed to go home today but the doctors said, “tomorrow.”  Dad is fully aware of his situation and is upset about having to stay another day.

I’m sure you know the moral to this story even before I get to it.

Love your parents, your children, and your friends every day, and let them know it by both your words and actions.  Tomorrow is always tomorrow, never today.

Will Dad be home tomorrow?  Certainly. But just in case, Dad, always eat your dessert first.

Love,

Alan

5 views