Keep going.

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I saw a man walking along the road earlier, but it wasn’t just any old road. It was a five-lane freeway.

I didn’t recall seeing a broken down car or truck, and the man didn’t appear to be toting his life’s possessions. He was simply walking while the rest of us sped by at 70 mph. It was nearly dusk, with just a hint of the day’s golden glow lingering on the horizon.

Had the lanes been fewer and the setting more rural, his silhouette would’ve been the visual equivalent of a country song. He wasn’t walking in a hurried manner, he was more or less strolling. Perhaps he was deep in thought, perhaps he was walking back to a vehicle still up ahead. He was definitely heading somewhere, but none of us knew the location.

Some people we meet in life may seem out of place, but to them, their path might be very clear. On the surface, they may not fit in with their surroundings, but their course is set, their journey known and their resolve unwavering. They may get static along the way or come across people who don’t have time to slow, but they’ll make their way regardless of others’ thoughts, judgment, suspicions or curiosity.

For these people — for their determination and their stick-to-it-ness on the crazy highway of life, I am thankful. There’s often a lesson in everything we see, but tonight’s man walking along the side of a highway was needed, not to mention a nice reminder that sometimes all we need is to simply keep going.

Inspiration

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The first CD I ever purchased was bought in Michigan. There was a Tower Records across the street from campus and some interesting, strange, ethereal music was playing in the store while I was browsing. My head was in another place as the combination of sounds and sight — wandering through aisles of talent and stardom, even the smell of printed album sleeves — was slightly intoxicating. The vibe was good, the day was lazy. I love music stores.

“What am I hearing?” I asked one of the associates. He checked, and they were playing an album called “Everest” by Off and Gone.

I bought it, played it in my off-campus apartment that summer as well as my dorm that fall, but I couldn’t get that inspired feeling again.

Do you ever try to recreate an emotional state — a day or a time in your life — and fail miserably? I have, and it’s frustrating beyond belief. Why can’t all the good times be relived? Why is it a struggle to put things back in a particular order?

My take on this is that inspiration is what it is. It can’t be duplicated, cloned, bottled or copied in any fashion. It’s a one-time deal, even though you might experience a similar sensation during similar circumstances at any point in your life. Inspiration is meant to be a catalyst, and any recreation defeats the purpose. Inspiration wants us to seek more of it, not relive a moment that’s passed.

Tonight I am thankful for the memory of Off and Gone, for that day shopping at Tower Records and for the way I felt in tune with and relaxed by the music around me. The memory is a nice reminder that being in the moment can often yield inspiration we didn’t know we were looking for, while being outside of a moment and trying to recreate the past will often leave us wanting more.

Here’s to being present in all our moments.

White.

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I broke a fairly widespread fashion rule today. I hadn’t even heard of said rule until the late 90s when I was living in Michigan, of all places.

“No white clothing after Labor Day,” they’d say.

Huh? Really? No white? What about winter white? What about getting married between Labor Day and Memorial Day? OK, I’m sure brides get a free pass, but still.

I looked in my closet this morning and saw a lot of black. I love black, so naturally I own a ton of it. As I scanned my options, I was fast-forwarding to next week and mentally reserving dark slacks for Monday, Tuesday, specific meetings…but what to wear today?

Meh, I suppose the white skinny jeans staring at me will work. For one, they’re clean. Two, it’s toasty out. Three, rules schmules. Who cares that it’s after Labor Day?

Oh, the stink-eye! The scrutiny! The snickering! The doesn’t-she-know?! glances.

Yes, I know. Yes, I’ve heard about your rules. It’s just that I don’t really care. And neither did Coco Chanel. So there. Neener, neener!

I did some minor research and found that many notable fashion-savvy folk exist who think the white rule is silly. I read about its origin, I read perspectives by those who still embrace the rule and, you know, I think I’ll wear white again next Friday. I might make it a thing, a ritual — looks and glances be damned!

I was thinking about how many things we build up as truth in our minds, and how unnecessary those silly little beliefs are. Clothing — a luxury and in short supply in many parts of this world — inspires trends, rules, must-haves and seasonal mandatories only in countries familiar with plenty. Like ours.

Tonight I am acutely aware that my pair of white jeans which, perhaps to some, should be relegated to the back of my closet until next season is the very pair that someone else might cherish and wear proudly year-round. And so shall I. Tonight I am thankful for our land of plenty and for having more than enough. How blessed we are.

Four-letter F-word

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It’s entirely possible I’ve written about it before, but it’s a realization that’s popping into my head more and more often these days.

This nasty little four-letter F-word is one of those silent killers, the written equivalent of carbon monoxide.

“Fine.”

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Fine will take you down if you let it. Why? Because nothing’s so bad that it needs changing, and nothing is so great that you’re really, truly living.

If you’re simply fine, your passions might be experiencing neglect. They’re withering away, somewhat hoping things will take a turn — a turn that might end up being a catalyst so that you chase after your dreams.

If you’re simply fine — not good, not great — you might feel as though the day-to-day is taking a lot out of you. Maybe you’re going through the motions and wondering what it’s all for. Maybe you’re putting yourself through the paces but wondering about your purpose. Maybe you’re fine but not fulfilled.

Fine may be the result of waiting on some news that has you a bit on edge. It may be the result of sheer exhaustion. It may be the result of feeling directionless but still grateful, helpless but not without resources, depressed while realizing the good around you, and it may be the result of a lack of trust in others even though you still cling to your belief in humanity as a whole.

What will it take to push you out of fine? Will it take the addition of something? The absence of something?

If you know how to get out of fine, are you hesitant for a reason? Do you trust your heart, or do you question it? Are you bound by obligations and responsibilities by which you may feel trapped? Or do you simply have yet to reconcile how to make everything work together, like an orchestra at the hands of its chief conductor?

While good on the surface, today I am thankful for realizing the curse of fine and the downward spiral that it can send us into if we’re not careful. Other four-letter words don’t quite have the power to be our undoing the way “fine” does, but realizing your state of existence and knowing how to move beyond “fine,” if that’s where you are, can be a real game-changer, a life-changer. And life-changing is more than fine by me.

Remember.

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I was moving into an apartment in Redondo Beach and was excited about my new digs. It was September 8, 2001. My phone wasn’t yet connected, nor was my TV. I was reachable by cell phone only, but I’m weird about it — I hate hearing it ring, and I’m prone to answering it in my sleep and carrying on lengthy conversations unless my ringer is off. So it’s always off.

A few days later, Tuesday morning, I awoke to the sound of phones ringing off the hook — just not my phone. Ringing was coming from all around — the building next door, the floors above me and they echoed in my building’s courtyard. Sans landline, half awake and with my cell ringer off, I wondered for a split-second if I was really hearing my alarm going off instead. Nope, definitely phones.

Still not knowing what was happening but not being able to fall back asleep, either, I got up, had breakfast, showered and got ready to head off to work a little early. Before walking out the door, I grabbed my cell phone and only then looked at the display. Missed calls galore.

My mom had tried reaching me numerous times and when we finally spoke, I thought she was exaggerating when she said a tower had collapsed. Surely she had her facts off. I wish this had been the case.

This was September 11.

I went to work to watch one of our many agency TVs, took everything in and could not believe my eyes. Tears flowed as though a faucet had been left running. To this day, the footage affects me the same way. I can’t imagine losing someone that day, being on one of those planes or witnessing the devastation first hand.

I can’t imagine what it was like for the first responders, the volunteers and for those who worked tirelessly at Ground Zero — day in and day out. I can’t imagine the weight on our government, the scrambling, the confusion. I can’t imagine being a resident of New York City and seeing your beloved town come under attack. I can’t imagine working at the Pentagon and having an airliner come crashing through the halls and walls of freedom and national defense. The reality of that day will be something most of us can never fully grasp. We only have the footage, the memory and the hope that we never see it again.

Many of us will never forget where we were when 9/11 happened, and many of us remember the day in our own way: an American flag flown from the front porch post, quiet prayers during the day, watching the events through documentaries, the news and other programming. We all remember differently, but we remember. And seeing a country realize the importance of not forgetting is something I am truly thankful for.

What do you do?

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Sometimes I struggle with my contribution to the world. I work in advertising, and it has been good to me. But is my career full of purpose? Does it have worth?

I was watching a program earlier this evening about artifacts from 9/11 that are slated to end up in the National September 11 Memorial Museum. One of the gentlemen interviewed, a New York native, felt helpless but was desperate to offer assistance. Then it hit him: he’s a photographer. His assistance would come in the form of photographing the destruction, the recovery efforts, the aftermath. He created an archive of more than 8,000 photos when all was said and done.

What a gift for generations to come, what an offering to survivors. The photographer’s words could not have been more true. He spoke of a task that was almost a duty, so that others could make sense of the tragedy in their own way.

Ads and media may be in the same boat as this man’s photography skills. Perhaps my knowledge of both hasn’t yet had its time to shine — no historic event for which to rise up — but perhaps one day it will.

The funny thing about reflecting on my own contributions is that I inevitably compare them to others’ moments of greatness. What, therefore, do we do? We prepare, and we take comfort in knowing that when the right moment — the right opportunity — comes along, our learnings and our livelihood will be called into action…even if the action is simply putting us in the path of someone who’s meant to put us on a new one.

Tonight I am thankful for all that I’ve learned, all that I’ve seen and for all that I’ve yet to do. May another event as catastrophic as 9/11 never touch our soil again, but should my background somehow happen to be called upon in the event it does, I’ll be ready.

It fits.

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“You get what you get, and you don’t have a fit.”

I’ve heard the saying before, but it comes to mind a lot these days. Some seem to think a sense of entitlement plagues younger generations, but I think it spans the ages. I think having a fit fits with the times.

We live in an age where fast isn’t fast enough, and where good isn’t good enough. We have wealth that many think is never enough, health that we seemingly live to undermine, and room to give instead of take.

Although the customer is always right is a good rule of thumb for business, those who scheme and take advantage of it undermine its original purpose. It’s a domino effect which can take one selfish example of bad behavior and force it to spawn others. Before we know it, the cycle has been perpetuated across years, generations and is soon an acceptable part of life. And it’s a shame.

The same way that some styles stand the fashion test of time, something else does, too: humility. Respect. Remembering that we’re all in this together. The things that will always fit — the things that will always be in demand — are the things that separate us from other living creatures: a sense of right and wrong, a sense of gratitude, and the ability to be peacekeepers amid the strife.

Tonight I am thankful for a familiar phrase’s reminder that having a fit is so easy, not to mention played out. But if we choose to work on our acceptance of the less than ideal parts of life and work hard to get through this world in step with our fellow man, that will always be a fit worth pursuing.

On the Loose

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I don’t know what it is about something being “on the loose” that cracks me up (with the exception of a crazed lunatic or similar, naturally), but something about the phrase tickles my funny bone.

I picture something or someone going rogue, going a little bit off course in the name of either thumbing their nose at convention, or just because a wild hair was located — a wild hair that needed satisfying (or perhaps plucking).

It’s a phrase that’s right up there with “on the fritz” for me. And, wow, if something was both on the loose and on the fritz? Watch out. Serious funny bone tickling.

On the loose implies a sense of freedom. It implies that one is not confined to a set of rails, to four walls, to a clearly marked path or to a set of rules or guidelines. One is not held to a page of checkboxes, a sheet of do’s and don’ts, expectations or responsibility.

To some, this may be the life to pursue. Others may relish a little bit of the leash, albeit a forgiving and fairly long one.

If being on the loose is a bit too footloose and fancy-free for you, might I offer up its cousin — on the move?

For me, “on the move” implies motion, but perhaps with some beneficial [read: looking-out-for-you] restrictions. It implies progress despite confines, and implies growth with recklessness kept to a minimum.

Some days, I’d love nothing more to be on the loose — and, truth be told, there’s generally nothing stopping me, save for pets that rely on me for food and water. And bills. Oh, and my job. At the end of the day, however, I can’t deny that I’m a fan of rules and regs when they’re referenced in a sane manner and kept in perspective; I do enjoy coloring within the lines. But perspective is the key word here. Anytime anything is taken so literally that it squelches common sense, creativity or simply the ability to do the right thing is never good, so tonight I am thankful for a helpful hand to nudge us back into position, a gentle push to keep us on the [mostly] straight and [occasionally] narrow path, but also for cutting loose and tearing it up to be an option if we so choose.

Everything in moderation.

Know Your Out

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When I took driver’s ed in high school, our teacher always told us to know where our “outs” were.

“What’s your out?” he’d ask as I was driving on a major road.

“To my left,” I’d say.

“Are you sure?” he’d prod. He wanted to make sure I had confidence in my answer.

“Yep, already checked the mirrors. No cars,” I’d tell him.

Knowing your out is vital whenever you’re among other drivers. It means you’re anticipating things and ready to react, lest you get caught up in the chaos should something go wrong.

Do you know your out when the going gets rough? Is it personal down-time, yoga, a long walk or time with people? Do you know your out when a job goes sideways? Do you have a back-up plan? And then another back-up plan for that one?

I started thinking about my outs today on the freeway. I was coming upon a stretch of road that’s infamous for backing up quickly, but even if you’ve never driven it before, one should — by virtue of having been granted a driver’s license — be looking all around: up ahead, behind, to each side, at merging traffic, exiting traffic. It’s not hard, but you wonder how many people really do it anymore.

But somebody didn’t today. Their lane backed up, and off into the dirt beyond the right shoulder they went. Why didn’t they know there wasn’t anyone in the wide-open lane next to them on the left? They likely didn’t look. They didn’t know their out.

Today I am thankful for a teacher’s words that had so much more relevance than just being applicable to life on the road. His warning was relevant to life in general, and his command of knowing my out often comes to mind.

For patient teachers, wise souls and words of wisdom that can span the decades, I am grateful.

Pay attention.

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I found myself telling a story earlier this evening about when I lived in Connecticut. Then I told a story about my college years in Michigan.

I felt two things right off the bat: on one hand, I felt really, really old. Where did the years go?

On the other hand, I felt really grateful for those years — even though I’d like to have a do-over on some of them.

The day-to-day feels like it drags on sometimes, while years feel as though they fly by. Then one day you wake up, look around and realize your life became something other than what you always thought it would be.

People have come and gone, love evolved and jobs might’ve been something other than what we’d hoped. Maybe we thought we’d be more confident, outgoing, have more wealth or that we’d simply be content with all that’d we’ve achieved.

How do we savor each moment? If things aren’t what we wanted, can we chart a new course and set things in the right direction? How can we make the most of the years before us?

Pay attention — literally. Be aware. Live in the now, and perhaps consider writing it down. Document your adventures, be deliberate in your enjoyment and devote yourself to creating lasting memories for yourself, and for those around you. When all is said and done, your life is as good as the things that have made your soul sing, and those people who fill it with beauty.

For all of those people in mine, I am thankful.