The wakeful joy of everyday living

One day, you just wake up.

Everything looks sharper and clearer, everything sounds crisper and crystal, and the smells, from the must of the furniture to the lilac flowers, waft from your nose straight to your brain and embed in your soul, as if they were there all along and freshly created for the moment when you. just. wake. up.
 
You remember that you have been here before and held on like a drowning man, clutching at wakefulness so as not to let it slip away. Still, you never sensed when it went away, just as you never remember the moment you fell asleep - you only realize that you were sleeping and dreaming and not noticing until the day when you just wake up. Again.
 
Will this be the day when you stay awake?

It must be something you can practice until you reach a point where you are awake all the time.

It must be a gift from Some One, to appreciate one at a time.

It must be a chemical reaction that occurs when the enzymes and hormones and blood are mixed just so.

It must be a spirit that sails across the field and envelopes you in sharp-eyed wonder.

It must be a seed planted in your heart that germinates and grows until one day your chest bursts with wakefulness - an explosion of awareness so bright it’s almost scary.

“I’m alive!” It feels almost like a supernatural force except it’s completely natural, coaxed out of the air around us by some everyday magic of everyday life.

And that day, you just wake up.

You remember previous rebirths, awakenings that came and went before, and perhaps you realize the awareness is like a smooth stone in the water, slipping from your grasp if you clutch it too tightly.

A deep breath to exhale the poison of the quotidian and drink in the nectar of the now. Tension you forgot was there loosens in your shoulders and in every other muscle you never realized was clenched, settling through a series of little aches and nips of pain into a glorious undoing. The tightened sinews relax and open psychic pores to drink in the day, and it’s full and it’s clear and it’s life.

“Don’t let me forget this feeling,” you cry to no one in particular and everyone. “Don’t let it slip away again.” And in that fear and that anxiety lies the beginning of sinking back into not-life, for fear is the enemy of life. Death comes to us all, but not when we’re awake like this. Even the pain is more vivid in these wakeful moments, which is why some turn away, no doubt.
 
One day, you just wake up. And the word that bubbles to the surface is gratitude. Thank you for this waking awareness, you whisper softly, not quite knowing whom you thank. You want to believe it is God, but all you know for certain certainty is that you have awakened and see and feel and hear and taste and smell it all, wondering where these five senses have been while you passed this way in dormancy.
 
Was it waking a few minutes before the alarm that did it? Is the air more full of life those extra minutes before the sun rises? Do the alarms corrupt the natural awakening cycle and should you always asleep until you wake? What, you wonder, causes this special sense of being alive?
 
And in the questioning and the wondering, the muscles tighten up again, and the feeling begins to fade …
 
Until you snap back and realize no, the answer to being is simply to be - something that is not simple at all is the simplest answer of all. Be. Don’t think too hard about it, but think just enough, and Be.

The taking away of breath

And there it was, silent and sudden, at the edge of the clearing. When you say, "It took my breath away," what you mean is that you took in a breath and held it, not wishing to let the air escape from this magical moment.

He didn't feel an excited explosion of joy and happiness. It was just there, standing there matter of fact and how-are-you good-morning-to-you-too, as if it had always been there and intended to be there for as long as it pleased and go on its way in its time.

No, not an explosion. The joy and happiness from the deer's arrival rose slowly and certainly until it overflowed, as if it had always been there and he could draw from that well from now on, anytime he wanted.

He overflowed with a sense of gratitude — to whom was he grateful? He claimed not to believe in a supernatural being, and yet he needed to thank Some One. Thank the universe? The universe didn't care a flying flamingo about him. Why should he thank the universe?

But gratitude was the emotion he was feeling. He was glad to be alive and in his moment. And so he murmured, "Thank you," to no one in particular, and he could have sworn Some One overheard him and murmured, "You're very welcome, my son."

The one thing you need to know

All you need to know is it's up to you.Whatever "it" is, you can and must take care of it.

That realization can and will fill you with fear. That realization can and – if you let it – fill you with the greatest sense of power and peace.

No longer is it out of your control. No longer is it dependent on someone "out there" who may or may not ever notice or care.

No – that is to say, yes – you have the reins of your life. You decide what happens next.

"If it's going to be, it's up to me." It really is that simple.

It's not easy. If anyone tells you "easy," they're lying to you or perhaps even to themselves.

But simple? Yes, it's really simple: You can be the change you want in the world.

In simple fact, if you are not that change, it won't happen. Not, at least, in your world.

That boss? That spouse? That senator? That president? They can't affect your world. They don't have the power. They can't get inside you and tinker with you – your soul, your attitude, your thoughts, your feelings. Only you can get that close. Only you can tinker with what's in there.

Yes, you can let them in. But the change – if you care to change – is up to you.

And if you're right – if they want you to change in a way you know isn't right – well, then, hold on. Don't let someone else take the power from you.

Oh, no doubt, someone with "power" can affect the external trappings of your life. They can confine you, adjust your wages, withdraw your job, beat you, steal from you, and cause you discomfort and pain – physical, mental or spiritual. Yes, they can even kill you.

But they can't touch you unless and until you let them.

By "you" I mean that special sentience – that unique essence of who you are – what makes you you.

It belongs to you. You were born with it, and it will stay with you until the mortal vessel you occupy and operate runs out of power.

You can never again control what happened before. That happened. It's over. But you can always control how you react to it, now, this moment.

Your reactions – your proactions – are in your hands. Your hands – those powerful tools that can pick up a tool and do your bidding. Those mighty tools that can reach out and build or close in a fist – that can nourish or strangle – that can grow a garden or drive a car or tear down a wall or take a life.

Your hands – your mind – your soul can be instruments of life or death. Choose wisely. Find wisdom. Seek truth. Ignore lies – no, wait: Correct lies.

You are not the only one who wants to know the truth. You are not the only one who wants to be the change. Help others understand.

But know this: Each of us has the power to change only one life – the one under the control of the person you call I. me. myself. You do not have the power to change or control your neighbor, your mate, your parent, your child, or that stranger.

You do have the power to persuade – or to force your will on others. In the first instance you can gain a soulmate, an ally, a companion, a fellow. In the second you gain nothing but solitude and hatred and bitterness and resentment.

You cannot take their freedom, no matter how high and thick you build the walls of their cage. Neither can others take your freedom, no matter how high and thick they build the walls of your cage. It's all up to you.

You have the power, you have the controls, you have the reins of your life – but only your life.

The extent to which you lead others is completely dependent on those others. The extent to which others lead you is completely dependent on you.

Decide this moment to take the reins of your life. They've been in your hands all along anyway. They've taken you to this place, good or bad or indifferent, where you are at this moment.

Where do you want to go next?

It's entirely – entirely – up to you.

The morning of oh so everything

There was a day when sunshine exploded in the sky and the birds sang with joy and with weather alerts and with predators warnings but mostly just sang to announce the light was here and oh so streamingly joyful, and the puppy ran through the field tasting everything and sniffing the aromas and watching the birds overhead and the squirrels on the sides of the sides of the trees and marveling, "How do they DO that?!"

Joy. Being alive. The mystery and astonishing happiness-is-not-a-happy-enough-word-to-describe-this-feeling-of-being-alive.

Life is a miracle that each of us holds within ourselves, eager to burst into delighted awareness. Isn't this amazing?

The quacking of a thousand ducks

The body cries inertia. The false death of sleep is so tempting, so comfortable, but life is about movement. Life is of the soul, life is of giving. Heal thyself and then begin to heal the world.

Clear the cobwebs - clear the clutter - find the surface of the planet. OK, at least find the surface of your desk. Find the nuggets of clear thought that you buried in the clutter. Line up your ducks in a row and see how they quack.

With the clutter of his mind all pushed into a corner, he saw the whole picture laid out before him, the way it could be were the ducks in a row instead if scattered here and there, each quacking insistently to be attended. "Here!" "No, here!" "No, here!" cried the ducks, and the "there" slipped from his grasp.

"So much to do, so little time." Fie. The time is plenty. The need is understood. The ducks push to the front, each demanding to be heard. But all that is actually heard is the quacking of a thousand ducks.

He closed the door, so that only he and the dog were in the room. He closed his eyes and took deep, deliberative breaths. He cleared his mind, thinking nothing, listening but not processing.

One of the ducks poked tentatively into his consciousness, and he pushed it back. And another duck. And another duck.

They refused to line up in a row.

And so he accepted the chaos. And it was almost as good as fighting it. And it was better than fighting it.

It is what it is. He was where he was. Wherever he went, in fact, he was there.

From that day on, the ducks still refused to line up. But they cooed for him.

The sweet release of the run

Run!

Pay no attention to the clock that says you are growing older. Pay no attention to the aches and pains and cricks and popping joints. Pay no attention to the words that lie just outside your reach and refuse to spring into service. Pay no attention to anything but the breeze.

Just run!

Run like the wind, like a puppy, tail flailing in the sun, so happy to be running.

Run because you can, run because you have to, run because because because because because —

Because of the wonderful thing running is.

Your joy is waiting

A puppy needs to wrestle and jump and play and taste it all. All of it. All.

The dog remembers the puppyness and never lets it fade.

The man should not forget the boy. The woman should not forget the girl. They are still there, waiting inside.

Be alive.

Be!

W.B.'s Book Report (in progress): Choose Yourself

Kindle tells me I am 70 percent of my way through James Altucher's fine manifesto Choose Yourself, which has much to say about the way things are in this day and age and about how best to live during this new era. As Altucher guides me along, I find myself in greater admiration of Paul Phillips, the central figure in my Myke Phoenix universe.

When first we met Paul in the early 1990s (or 2008 when the stories first saw light of day), he was an everyday radio news reporter for WACR, a news-talk station in Astor City, a city that sort of reminds me of Green Bay, in whose orbit I have spent the last 30 years. But local radio news has faded toward obscurity, and Paul found himself in need of a new day job.

He latched onto the Astor City Times-Gazette as a newspaper reporter. You may have heard about the newspaper industry. Yep, Paul was laid off again.

What happened next brings us to Altucher's point, which you can sample in this YouTube video from a TEDx talk a few months ago. Paul Phillips chose himself.

His traditional jobs telling the story of Astor City dried up and went away. But Paul still believed that the people of Astor City wanted and needed to hear their story.

So, using the tools of modern technology, he made his own platform to tell that story: The Astor City Beacon, a local news website that does the things that WACR and the Times-Gazette used to do – that is to say, it tells Astor City's stories as seen and reported by Paul Phillips.

Altucher's thesis is that day jobs are swiftly becoming a thing of the past and that's OK because happiness is found not when someone else chooses you, but when you choose yourself. And he goes about telling how he did that and making suggestions about how you can do something similar.

I still have 30 percent of the book to become disillusioned, but through this point I've found quite a lot of valuable insight about how to navigate this brave new world. And for that I heartily recommend the book.

Oh, and I wouldn't object if you explore Paul Phillips' world while you're at it, either the original Paul or the more recent Paul.

A little writing about writing and art

Ray Bradbury is among the greatest writers of the 20th century, and on a more personal note he is my favorite writer most days. Bradbury (1920-2012) wrote an essay called “Zen in the Art of Writing” in which he boiled the craft of writing down to four words: “Work. Relaxation. Don’t think.”

Specifically he said that while you write, don’t think about the possibility of making money with your words – even if you’re a full-time writer whose livelihood depends on it – and don’t think about the process of writing. Just let the words flow.

It’s a tricky balancing act, but every writer at least occasionally enters a “zone” where good stuff just flows from your fingers. Time enough to edit later. For the moments of creation, it’s enough to get the thoughts out and worry later about whether the words are in the proper order.

Bradbury broke into the business of writing by making a commitment to write at least one short story every week. He didn’t worry about whether they were any good or “saleable,” he just wanted to establish a habit. At the end of the first year, he had 52 short stories. Almost none of them sold, but some of them did, and his career was underway.

Writer and filmmaker Joss Whedon is doing interviews this month in advance of his next blockbuster (”Marvel’s Avengers: Age of Ultron”), and one statement jumped off the page at me: “I have a contract with my audience – that I will do better, that I will give them a reason to come in again that is more than the reason we gave them last time.”

What a powerful motivation for an artist! Whedon is the creator of several popular, well-known works from TV series to movies and even comic books, and his audience is passionate about him because they sense that commitment – that he considers his contract with them more important than any financial contract. Bradbury would likely say Whedon “gets it” – care first about the writing, and the rest will take care of itself.

There’s a brilliant little movie that Preston Sturges made in 1941, “Sullivan’s Travels,” about a filmmaker of popular comedies who decides he’d rather try to do something “important.” Instead of another silly feature, he aims to adapt a pretentious literary work called “O Brother Where Are Thou” (and yes, that’s where the 2000 film got its name).

He embarks on an undercover journey to feel what the characters in the novel experienced. Long story short, in the end he finds himself in an audience of prisoners watching a Disney Pluto cartoon.

He laughs at the antics on the screen, then looks around and sees the roomful of inmates also laughing – released from their miserable circumstances for a few minutes of something resembling joy – and he realizes that his silly comedies also meet a basic human need and he has already done something “important” with his genius for entertaining people.

We live for the act of creation – and each of us creates something in everything we do every day. There is an art to driving a busload of kids to school, there is an art to serving a great cup of coffee, there is an art to collecting garbage.

In our art we make the world a better place for others, whether we serve an audience of one or a million, whether we write a poem for our sweetheart or a blockbuster summer movie for mass consumption.

Think about your “audience” – the people you serve – and make a contract to do your best and make today’s best even better than yesterday, and you’ll achieve that better world.

What's with all the anger? revisited

I can't say this any better than I did three and a half years ago, so here goes.

Just get started

Time management only works if you make a concerted effort to manage your time. Reading about time management does not make you a time manager.

Knowing what to do and doing it: The first is easy. Everyone knows what to do. 

Doing it? It must be hard. It must be difficult. Because so few do what needs to be done. 

Lose weight/lay off the sugar? You know it’s good for you. Exercise? Meet deadline? Discipline your life? You know what to do. Just do it. Just get started.

What’s keeping you? Just you: Overcome inertia. Overcome inertia and live. Live before you have no life left to live. Never say die until you’re dead. 

Not hard. Not hard. Why act as if it’s impossible?

Who is this guy anyway?

The completion of a project gives a guy a chance to stop and take a deep breath. As the world awaits Tuesday's release of the Myke Phoenix compilation Year of the Dinosaur, I find myself taking a deep breath and contemplating what the bibliography so far means.

Since I was 10 years old and found a copy of Amazing Spider-Man #4 at the old IGA in Milton, Vermont, I have enjoyed superhero stories. Well, even before that - I do remember enjoying a Legion of Super-Heroes story or two before the summer of 1963 - but Spider-Man and Marvel Comics made me a fan. A few years later I heard about a series of 1930s pulp hero reprints of a superhero named Doc Savage, and Cold Death started me on the path that would lead me to Myke Phoenix.

My Myke stories are designed to take you about an hour to read, approximating the comic book experience or perhaps a TV show. Year of the Dinosaur collects the 12 stories I've written in the past year or so, with a bonus short called "A Myke Phoenix Christmas."

I first conceived of Myke when I was a late-30s radio news reporter. I finished four stories and started several others, but the lack of a practical outlet to share them with the world led me to set the project aside. The indie publishing movement provided that outlet, and those earlier stories have been available since 2008 as The Adventures of Myke Phoenix.

But of course, my world view goes beyond the confines of the superhero adventure. (That is not to say we couldn't have a lengthy conversation about the superiority of Marvel's The Avengers to any Superman or Batman movie ever made.)

I've always thought war was stupid, and I've come to think of states as counterproductive to individual human endeavor. That led me to write The Imaginary Revolution, the memoirs of the man who led the planet Sirius IV to independence from Earth and beyond to a commonwealth that had no state government apparatus. As discussion raged over what form of government to establish for the newly free world, protagonist, Ray Kaliber, asked the simple question, "Why do we need a government at all?"

The story is a sequel of sorts, or at least set in the same universe, as The Imaginary Bomb, a space opera perhaps best known as a series of podcasts I voiced in 2006. The universe is based sometime in the future from now, when humanity has discovered how to tap the power of the imagination as an energy source. As too often happens with new technology, someone has considered the implications of weaponized imaginary power, and my interplanetary truck drivers get tangled up in stopping the imaginary bomb before it hurts someone.

I also have a collection of short stories, Wildflower Man, anchored by the story that has gained quite a following in its podcast form, if I may say so. I haven't transferred that book to digital form because, to be honest, I wish it was a little longer. I keep meaning to write a few more short stories to pad it out. One of these days.

I've also collected some of my essays on a couple of themes. Refuse to be Afraid is about empowering yourself to battle through the fears and impulses that keep us from the greatness we could accomplish: Refuse to be afraid. Free yourself. Dream.

And A Scream of Consciousness discusses ways to fight past the distractions of everyday life and concentrate on the needs of this moment, right now. These two books, and the "What I Believe" section of The Imaginary Revolution, probably sum up what I might pretentiously describe as my life philosophy.

So there are seven books, five fiction and two non-fiction, that hopefully will entertain you, perhaps could change your life, and at least will tell you a bit about who this guy is anyway.

If you're reading this on Friday, Nov. 14, 2014, the day I wrote this, you have until tonight to get a free download of Firespiders Unleashed, the pivotal Myke Phoenix story that opens the trilogy that also includes March of the Alien Dead, Claws of Death and Talons of Justice. Yes, it's a four-part trilogy. I blame Hollywood. Or perhaps Douglas Adams.

Starting Saturday I'll be devoting most of my shameless self-promotion to the collection that climaxes with those four stories, Year of the Dinosaur. But I really do like the way the saga ends, so if you want to cut to the chase and save a couple of bucks, buying the individual stories is a pretty good investment.

In any case, those are the motivations that drove the bookshelf of my stuff to date. So now you know.

A weird side effect of working ahead

I've noticed this in the newspaper business, where you're always working on tomorrow's paper. Sometimes I have to keep reminding myself it's not tomorrow already.

After I’ve spent a whole day reading or writing "today" on stories that will appear Wednesday, and after awhile I start thinking it's Wednesday already. I need to reassure myself that no, I didn’t miss that appointment I had at 4 p.m. Tuesday, because it’s still 2:30 and I have 90 minutes to get there, I’m not almost 23 hours late.

And now, working on a story I plan to release in March, I've started catching myself thinking that it's February already. Fascinating.

I’m trying to work ahead so that the next Myke Phoenix story is finished (at minimum in draft form) when the new one is released. I completed Night of the Superstorm on the day before I released Invasion of the Body Borrowers. Now I’m working through Duck Man Walking, which debuts March 3.

People who write about setting goals often will say that it’s beneficial to envision yourself as already successful. What does success look like? Set your mind and grow into that vision. I’m finding that if I set I mind thoroughly enough while you work ahead, you need to extract yourself from that vision to get back to real life.

Because the story that comes out Feb. 3 is finished, I have to keep reminding my mind that it’s still late January. I find myself thinking I missed Valentine’s Day, but it’s still weeks off. It’s the “tomorrow is today” syndrome played out over a span of weeks instead of hours.

I suspect that’s a beneficial side effect of having a deadline – beneficial because when the task must be done by a certain time, a sense of urgency builds up. This common phenomenon first rears its head in school – try pulling an all-nighter for a project that’s due in a week; it’s a lot harder than pulling one the night before the deadline.

It’s important to stay in the moment and remember to live today fully, but dipping a toe into the future can help make the next moments more focused.

Stop Looking Back

I spend way too much time in the mode I was in Monday, fretting about what I have not done in the past. I wrote the book A Scream of Consciousness to remind us all (including me) that all we have is the present and the only way to avoid fretting about the past is to do something now.

I wrote this song for much the same reason.

Stop Looking Back

When I was an old man, I wanted wealth and fame.
Now that I’m a young man, I only want to sing.
Stop looking back, that’s yesterday.
Stop looking back, this is today.
When I was a wise man, I needed to play the game.
Now that I’m a foolish man, I don’t need anything.
Stop looking back, it doesn’t pay.
Stop looking back, this is today.

Go on, get up and straighten your head.
Great tapestries start with one single thread.

When I was a rich man, the streets were paved with gold.
Now that I’m a poor man, I walk with good, true friends.
Stop looking back, that’s not the way.
When I was a dead man, I was afraid of getting old.
Now that I’m a live man, I know how the story ends.
Stop looking back, that’s yesterday.
Stop looking back, this is today.
This is today — stop looking back!

April 11, 2009 (Concept and some words 2004)

Lessons from our pooches in living life to its fullest

Willow The Best Dog There Is™

My friend Wally Conger writes about his furry friend Cheyenne's unceasing enthusiasm for eating the same kibble every day for years.

I think if we pay attention, our canine companions teach us many things about making the most of our finite time on this planet.

Wally had one of those a-ha moments while preparing the meal for Cheyenne the other day:

Don’t you wish you could harness her kind of passionate eagerness for each day?

Because as someone whose name I’m too lazy to look up once pointed out, expectancy is the atmosphere for miracles.

Even the little day-to-day stuff you take for granted can bring inspiration and opportunity.

Read the whole post here.

TANSTAMT: There Ain't No Such Thing As Multi-Tasking

I heard someone say the other day there’s no such thing as multi-tasking.

What this phenomenon is – “doing several things at once” – is really a constant shifting of attention from one project to another. One moment this item has your full attention, and the next moment that item has your full attention, and the moment after that an entirely different item is on your radar screen. Then you rotate around and this item has your full attention again, then that item and the entirely different item, and so on.

But is it your full attention? It takes a while to get into a rhythm on any task. Do you really get fully into that rhythm before you stop abruptly and work on something else? Would you be better served by focusing entirely on the first item until it is completely addressed, then moving on to the second one, and then the third?

Because you don’t have the time taken in the constant start-and-stop of momentum to deal with, perhaps it would be more efficient to “single task” the to-do list. Allot time to each of the tasks, but work them one at a time rather than “all at once.” The way the brain works, you’re really doing them all one at a time anyway, but with a scattered focus.

I suspect Curly in City Slickers had it right: The ultimate secret is: “One thing. Just one thing.”

10 good questions

• What will you do with the time that's left?

• Why are you here?

• What is the best use of your gifts?

• How can you make the world a better place?

• How can you make your life a better life?

• What makes you happy?

• What makes you free?

• What gives you life?

• What are you going to make?

• When are you going to make it?

A fence between neighbors

Good fences make good neighbors, someone said a long time ago. It seems a cynical statement; a fence, after all, keeps you at arm’s length. Are you a better neighbor because I’ve prevented you from getting too close?

Well, yes, actually that’s true. The particular neighbors Red and I had in mind, as we toiled this weekend on the new garden fence, were the breathtaking deer who wandered through the yard last week, and the little family of rabbits that hopped through the field toward the trees.

We have dreams, you see, of eating carrots and radishes and beets and lettuce and peas and beans that we planted in this soil with our own hands. And without this fence, our neighbors most likely will eat them first.

So yes, good fences make good neighbors. The fence tells them they can eat anything they like that they eat on this land on their side, just leave this little plot alone. With any luck we’ll live a long and harmonious life side by side; they will eat what grows wild out there, and we will eat our homegrown vegetables.

I know there are good analogies to be had and dots to connect about fences and neighbors and limits. My mind is beginning to form connections about a fence between my harmless phone calls and neighbors whose job it is to keep terrorists at bay and whose invasions of privacy turn them into terrorists themselves, for example.

But at this moment we’d just as soon sit and rest our weary arms and knees, admiring the new fence. And look, it’s just about time to thin the carrot plants.

Cross-posted to Door County Advocate

A key to making quiet time to plan

Here's advice that's counterproductive for folks like me, who produce stuff for you to consume online, but it's essential for you: Spend regular time NOT online.

In his book Thou Shall Prosper: Ten Commandments for Making Money, Rabbi Daniel Lapin talks about the mesmerizing effect of constantly staring at a glowing screen – the unnatural light pointed directly into your eyes, and the fast-moving imagery, have a tendency to dull the senses; the pretty pictures and bright colors dull the imagination.

"In contrast, reading about ideas or things grants you the most freedom to absorb or reject," Lapin says in his chapter about setting aside time to look into the future and make goals.

Lapin recommends at least 24 hours away from television and other glowing screens before engaging in the process of reflection and imagination.

In lieu of that for more short-term planning, I suggest postponing the flip of the switch first thing in the morning so you can start the day unplugged. I put a sticky note on my computer screen with the word "No!" (and a smiley face) on it, to remind my groggy early-morning self to reflect, read and write the daily plan before I subject myself to the LED light shining in my eyes. For longer-range planning, I also aim to have a "screen-free" day as Lapin suggests.

The goal is to remove all of the external distractions to the thought process. It's easier to concentrate on the quiet when you envelope yourself in as much quiet as possible.

Give up the zombie lifestyle

Are you tired of shuffling around, shambling through life not especially aware of where you are and where you're going, except that you have a gnawing desire to eat brains?

You're not alone – well, maybe except for the brain-eating part – and you may find a way toward a more focused life by reading my little book A Scream of Consciousness.

Have you ever stopped what you're doing with a sudden sense of awareness and frustration and said, "There's more to life than this!"?

That's a scream of consciousness.

Have you ever opened your eyes and realized with a peace beyond understanding that the world around you is overflowing with beauty and possibilities?

That's a scream of consciousness.

Have you ever felt a surge of energy when you realized exactly where you needed to be and what you needed to be doing to have the life you were born to have?

That's a scream of consciousness.

Now, how do you maintain that sense of joy and purpose moment by moment, every hour of every day?

That's the purpose of my little book A Scream of Consciousness.

It's a quick read; you should be able to zip through it in an hour or so, and then come back for a reminder of how to Be Here Now and stay aware of the moment.

If you're not convinced this is a book you need to read, my friend Wally Conger and I spent some time talking about the concepts in the book – and overcoming the zombie lifestyle – in this podcast interview. Give it a listen and then come back here to buy the book.

And if that doesn't do the trick, here are three sample chapters.

Open publication - Free publishing - More awareness

A Scream of Consciousness: Wake Up and Embrace the Present Moment is designed to help you experience life in its fullest, every moment. Thanks for reading this far, and if you'd like more, you know what to do.