Archive of Motivational Speaker

Welcome to Craig's site.

Craig Harper is a leading motivational speaker and educator. He is a highly sought-after corporate coach and is considered to be a leader and pioneer in the areas of personal and professional development. Working with hundreds of teams, companies and a wide variety of organisations on numerous continents over the last twenty years has given Craig a unique insight into, and understanding of, human performance and all its variables. Craig has an ability to educate, inspire, challenge and make people laugh all at the same time!

Renovate Your Life Blog

Friday, August 31, 2007

Don't forget the GYST challenge....

Hello you crazy kids.
A couple of things before you read today's post (below).

(1) Don't forget the GYST challenge starts this coming Monday... get your submissions in.
We have had a great response and it's fantastic to see so many people who are prepared to stop talking, thinking, procrastinating and dreaming... and start doing.

(2) Yesterdays post produced some of the funniest comments... ever.
If you haven't read them, do yerself a favor and check them out; hilarious.
Here's my personal fave from Ange in Sydney:

"I admit I would be embarrassed to fart in front of a guy. Actually this is one major reason I don't want to get married. Silly I know but it's the truth. I'm terrified I will wake my husband up with a fart and then he'll tell all his friends about his 'farting wife'. Is that something men do when they get together, make fun of their 'farting women'?"

Maybe it's 'cause I'm a simple male... but geeeez that made me laugh.
Ange wins a copy of 'Fattitude' for pure entertainment and honesty.
Thanks Ange.

Today's post is below...

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Mr Glass-Half-Empty 2007; and the winner is...

I know a guy.
Actually, I know a bunch of guys.
But yesterday I bumped into this particular guy.
This guy is the poster-boy for pessimism.

(To all you frustrated, wanna-be English teachers who keep writing to tell me that I can't start sentences with words like but or and or so or anyway... and that I can't use dots like this..... all the time and that I over-use and inappropriately use parentheses ((( ))) ... like I'm doing right now and that I am massacring the English language... and that I'm constantly desecrating all the rules of grammar, I'll do my very best to keep ya'll happy from now on).

Or perhaps not.
So anyway...

So this guy's not a besty (best friend) or anything but I'd guesstimate that I've spoken to him (in various situations) about fifty times over the last twenty years.

He's more a 'friend of a friend', so I kinda know him by default.
He's a nice (enough) guy... but geeeeeeeeeze he's hard work.
And I really hope he doesn't know what a blog is.
This blog anyway.

In all the conversations I've had with him, I've never (ever) seen him smile or laugh.
That's gotta suck.
Imagine being that miserable.
Bummer.
He's never got any good news to share.

Life is never great.
Things are never going well.
He needs a trolley to carry his bottom lip around.
And his back must be killing him from carrying the world on his shoulders.

And unfortunately for me.. every time we meet he seems compelled to tell me about his crappy life in excruciating detail.
Of all the people to have a connection with, he's picked me.

If he actually wanted to change and do something about his 'problems'... I'd be okay with it, but he seems to delight in his misery.
His woe-is-me.. ness.
He has an ability to be able to pluck misery out of joy like your mother would pluck that tiny splinter from your hand when you were five.

You know how you always wanted a super-power when you were a kid?
(It's probably another boy thing).
Anyway, I always wanted the invisibility thing.
Now I know why.

So I decided to dig a little 'cause I thought... it couldn't always be that bad.

I spoke to one of his best friends and asked a few questions.

"He's always like that... he's the original "Mr Glass-Half-Empty".. I was told.

And while his life is not without challenges (that's called being alive), he is married to a great girl, has couple of kids, has a good job and apart from his attitude, he is healthy.
There is plenty of good but he always finds the bad.
He is a misery magnet.

And when there's nothing to worry about, he'll find something.

As he was unloading on me about his crappy life, I tried to find some good.
He keep steering us back to the bad.

"Yeh but... " he kept saying.

He didn't want my help; he just wanted my attention.
And sympathy.
I left.

"See ya, wouldn't wanna be ya."

Left him and the grey cloud hanging over his head to enjoy his terrible life.
Today's lesson is relatively short and simple.

But very important...

1. Every day we have the choice of having a great day... irrespective of what happens (or doesn't happen) during that day.
A good or bad day is a choice, an attitude.
It's a philosophy and mindset that we take into every situation, circumstance and conversation.
It's no coincidence that some people always seem to have good days.
It ain't luck.

And then there are people who consistently make life harder than it needs to be.
While others (like a friend of mine who has been told she has three months to live six times) always find a way to make each day special.
She squeezes every precious drop out of her life while others languish in their own self-induced misery.

2. There's stuff we can control and stuff we can't.
Don't waste your time and energy on the stuff you can't change or control. (many do).

Waaaay too many people live in (agonise in) the past... what coulda, shoulda, woulda happened.. if only... GET OVER IT.
It's done.
Move on.
Stop wasting your time, your gifts and your potential in the NOW.
Stop being held captive to your past.

3. Bitterness, anger, resentment (and all the other negative emotions).. will kill ya... one way or the other.
Choose different... even when that negative emotion may be seemingly warranted or reasonable.
So many people live in those negative, destructive, paralysing emotions.

And then one day they wake up only to find they're old, grumpy, lonely, bitter people... looking for someone to be mad at.... for their crappy life.

4. Ask yourself this question.. "Am I the kind of person that people want to be around".. if your answer is no, don't feel sorry for yourself, make a decision to change.

This doesn't mean being obsessed with, or insecure about, what people think of you.
No, it means being more socially aware, less self-indulgent, more realistic, more practical and more solution-oriented.

Be the that person.
By choice.
If you don't wanna be the perpetual pain in the ass, ignored and avoided by the masses... then think different and do different to create different.
Give people a reason to want to hang out with you.

Sympathy... not a good reason.

5. Real happiness is much more about the internal stuff than it will ever be about the external stuff... so stop letting the external stuff dictate your level of joy, happiness and fulfillment. As I've said many times on this site "your world will change, when you change".

Enjoy your day (or night) Groovers, make it amazing by choice, surprise yourself, do something generous and kind for someone else while expecting nothing in return... and here, let's all have a group hug...

( ) ... just for the English teachers.

Say hi and lemme know where yer from.

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Thursday, August 30, 2007

Sure, girls are cool.. but I so don't wanna be one.

If you've come in search of some life-changing, mind-blowing wisdom, insight and self-help gold... then you may be a little disappointed because today I'm opting for tongue-in-cheek frivolity.

Just read over my last few posts.
Kinda intense.
Thought-provoking, challenging, confronting.
Somewhat serious.
That's okay; we need some occasional serious.
And some regular fun.
Today we're goin' for fun.

If you have a propensity to be somewhat precious and easily offended, or if you missed out on the humor gene.. you may wanna come back tomorrow when I explore something a little more grown-up and sensible.

So I just cut my hair.
Myself.
Always do.
It grows like a weed, so it gets a fortnightly trim.
Use my own clippers.
No.1 comb.
It's a man thing.
Four minutes start to finish.
There's something liberating about having hair that's three millimetres (an eighth of an inch) long.
Clippering (is so a word) my hair is like my meditation.

Which doesn't really say a whole lot for my spiritual life I guess.
Hmm.

Just love to feel those bad boys pressed hard up against my skull... the cold steel, the constant, single-note hum of the motor (a 'D' I think), the vibration through my cerebral cortex and the undeniable smell of testosterone hanging in the air... oh yes, it's a ritual.
It reminds me that I'm a man.
A low-maintenance, high-performance, alpha-male warrior.

Or as my mother would say, an insecure, high-maintenance, dysfunctional idiot.
So not fair.
Oh well.
Love you Mary.

Anyway, I gotta tell ya girls, I've given it some serious thought and I really think that, as a gender... you're missin' out.
Being a bloke.... waaaay more fun.
No doubt.

I don't wanna depress you or anything... but seriously, you guys (er.. girls) have so drawn the short straw with a whole buncha stuff.

Not only is it fun and convenient to have no-maintenance hair... but waddabout all those additional hours you woulda accumulated over the course of your life-time without having to fix your hair all the time?
You coulda saved years.
Decades even.
You coulda got that PhD.
Or another one.

And then there's the money you woulda saved on visits to the hairdresser and on hair-care products... you'd be driving a new Porsche if it wasn't for those time-consuming, expensive locks.

If you wanna give it a go... drop over and I'll cut your hair personally.
We'll take photos.
We'll make a day of it.

I think deep down most girls have short-hair envy.
And who can blame them?
Er, you.

So anyway, my four-minute trim was followed by the shave, shower and shampoo.
Okay, no shampoo; don't need it.
More hair on my legs than my head.
Maybe I should shampoo my legs?
Probably not.
I'm digressing.
Again.

My point is this: total Craig grooming time... eleven minutes start to finish for the whole process including hair cut and getting dressed.
Let's see a chick do that!
I think not my female counterparts...

And that includes a pre-shower toilet stop.
Standing.
Say no more.
I can hear the envy from here.

Ya gotta be hatin' that whole sitting down thing... right?
A life-time of that's gotta suck?
Bummer.
Bad luck Dudes.
Sorry, Dudettes.

So the low cost, low fuss, low-maintenance 'being a man' thing got me to thinkin' that while I love girls (I mean that respectfully), I'm so glad I'm not one.
Mean that respectfully too.
I'm sure you're all glad I'm not a woman too.
I'd make one big, ugly chick that's for sure.

Apart from the fact that I can't multi-task, dance or talk when the TV's on... and I'm not pretty enough, there's probably not a big chance I'm gonna be a woman any time soon anyway... but you know what I'm talking about.

However I will admit that, as a rule, girls smell much better than us blokes.
Mostly.
Except of course, for my grade five teacher; she smelled like cheese.
Gouda, I think.
On a hot day, Parmesan.

And a warm hello to you Mrs Fraser.
Hope you're well and hope you eventually got yourself a good anti-fungal spray.

But other than a few small advantages.. being a girl kinda sucks (from over here in Boys-ville, it seems to anyway).
It's way too much hard work.
I've watched... and it's a tough gig being a female.
Much harder than being yer run-o-the-mill bloke.

I get up, clean my teeth, shave (maybe), go to the toilet vertically (jealous), shower and I'm done. Jump in the car (my-much-larger-than-necessary-and-I've-got-no-issues-man's-car) and head off to work (at my very manly gym).

Yes girls, you've definitely drawn the short straw.

So I've given this considerable thought (four minutes in the shower) and I've come up with a a pretty solid case for being a bloke... feel free to convince me otherwise.

1. Well, we've covered the hair thing and our ability to perform certain skills vertically but let's not forget our amazing ability to laugh at our own farts for eighty years.
Farts = laughter = happiness = improved emotional, mental and physical well-being.
Therefore... farts are actually therapeutic.
Didn't know that didya girls?
See, always a lesson.. even when I'm being an idiot.

2. If you're a male news-reader you can work until you're a hundred years old.
Girls.. thirty-five.
Tops.
(In this country anyway).

3. Childbirth; an incredible gift and privilege.... but jeeeeeeeez, that's gotta hurt.

4. Removal of body hair... waxing schmaxing, I say. You can have that all to yerselves.

5. Menstruation and menopause; all yours.

6. When a guy gains a few pounds; people say he's cuddly... girls don't seem to get off so lightly.

7. If a guy is good at football, he can get paid an obscene amount to kick (or throw) a ball and to try and kill other guys. On the other hand, if a girl's good at football... aah, not so advantageous.

8. If a guy turns up for a date in jeans and a cap, he's cool.
If a girl does, she's a slob.

I could go on but I don't wanna depress you.
Or incite you.
Any more than I have.

I'll leave you with these few questions. Feel free to answer one, all or none.

1. Who has it easier, guys or girls?
2. Why?
3. Has there ever been a time when you would have swapped if you could?
4. What is the best part about being a guy / girl for you?
5. Do we live in a world which is unfairly geared towards men?
6. What men don't get about women is.... ?
7. What women don't get about men is.... ?

Okay, I'm off to put my ample testosterone to good use on the bench press.
Then I might punch something.
And then eat a whole farm animal.
With my fingers.

And then laugh at one of my own farts.
For hours.

It's therapeutic, ya' know.

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Tuesday, August 28, 2007

The Inaugural Get-Yer-Shit-Together Challenge.

So we're always talking about the theory of change here at craigharper.com.
Okay, I'm talking, you're listening.
Er, reading.
You know what I mean.

Always exploring, discussing and analysing the nuts and bolts of self-improvement.
How to make a better version of... us.
The 'new and improved'.. you.

Not that we shouldn't take time to appreciate and enjoy who we are and where we are right now.. but we're always a work in progress on some level.

Anyway, as you know from Sunday's post, I'm the Action Dude (sounds like I need a cape or something.... "is it a bird, is it a plane... no, it's Action Dude!).
Alright, I'll stop.
Clearly I missed out on the embarrassment gene.
Feel free to cringe and feel uneasy at my expense; I won't know.

And if you're a regular on this site then you'll know that I'm all about removing one's ass from one's couch and taking one's head out of the sand and getting shit done.
Now, If I'm getting too technical for you at any stage, lemme know and I'll dumb it down a bit for you.
And why is one talking like the Queen anyway?
And in the third person?

Well my faithful readers, today is an opportunity (if you choose to make it so) for you to stop reading, thinking, talking and waiting and to start doing.
Well actually, every day is... but sometimes we need a little shove with love.

I'm giving you the chance to participate in my twenty eight day...(cue the trumpets) "Get-Yer-Shit-Together-challenge".
GYST challenge for short.
Just rolls off the tongue doesn't it?
Dunno how it's gonna look on the posters though.
Oh well.
My PR guy told me that I should probably go for a more PC name for the challenge or perhaps something a little less offensive and more marketable; I told him he had smelly breath and to go clean his yellow teeth with his nicotine-stained fat little fingers.

Sure we could call it something fancy-schmancy like "The Harper Behavioural Modification Program" but..
1) That's the most lame-ass name I've ever heard and
2) When we're completely honest, all we really wanna do is... get our shit together right?

So the name was a no-brainer.
And as I've said before.. "my site, my rules."
Everything else I write (for mags) is perused (and periodically mauled) by editors... so ya gotta love the creative freedom of a blog.

By the way (yes I know I'm digressing), have you ever noticed how people write completely differently to how they speak?
To their friends they say "C'mon Charlie... get yer shit together man you're being a total tool."
But in the written form that sentence translates to "Excuse me Charles, I feel there are some underlying behavioural issues which may need to be explored and addressed."
Glad I'm not smart enough to write like that.

Now while most challenges have an agenda (use our products, pay our registration fee), my only 'agenda' is for you to climb out of that very deep hole you've dug for yourself and see what it's like up here where the sun's shining and the birds are singing.
For you to step out of Groundhog day and into a world of new possibilities.

That's right; it's a practical opportunity for you to start doing and stop talking.
We all need a catalyst.
And a cheer squad.
And a start date.
And we all need to create some momentum... so I'm gonna give you a little nudge.

If you're a person who has a history of 'almost' doing stuff... then this little challenge might be the opportunity for you to break that destructive, repetitious, frustrating cycle of blaaaah that you seem to have embraced so often.

If you've been the Captain of the 'SS Monotony' for too long... then maybe it's time to jump ship.
But you need to be ready.
The water's cold... but it's oh-so refreshing!!

So why twenty eight days?
Well, my experience tells me that four weeks is long enough to create real change and short enough to stay focused and on track.
And if done properly, these twenty eight days can be the catalyst for life-long change.

Okay, here's how it works:

1. The start-date is Monday, September 3, 2007.
Yes I know we could all start tomorrow (Wednesday August 29) but some of you won't even read this until after that date and some of you will need to make some practical arrangements in order to really get the best out of yourself over the twenty eight days. Use this time wisely and productively to get your head, heart and life (practically) where they all need to be for you to create FOREVER change. This challenge is not about four weeks... it's about starting the wheels turning on life-long change.
It's a beginning.

2. Identify what needs to change in your life (you already know). Tell someone that you trust what you're doing and why. Ask them to kick your ass, keep you honest and to encourage you through the four weeks (get them to read this post so they know what you're talking about). It doesn't matter what area of your life those changes relate to (health, work, relationships, destructive habits, attitude, self-talk, overcoming fears)... as long as they have something to do with creating positive change in your life.
And no, it's not a weight-loss challenge (as such)... but if you need to drop some weight then I would love you to get involved.

3. Set some specific goals (regarding that thing/issue/habit).

4. Write NO MORE THAN two hundred words to tell me (and perhaps a few thousand others) what you are going to achieve over the twenty eight days and why it will be different this time. This is your public commitment and yes, this takes a little guts.
If I can reveal my head and heart to you guys every single day... you can do it once. Yeh?
If you don't want to reveal your identity, use your initials.
By the way, if you can't take a risk, you can't succeed.

5. All of your submissions (goals, objectives, commitments) will be displayed in a separate area on this site. There will be a link in the right side bar on the home page (where you are now) below the 'Life Renovation' advertisement. It will be up this Friday and it will be an orange box saying 'GYST Challenge'... click on that link and it will take you through to where all your goals and commitments will be displayed. You can send those from now.
They will be displayed on the site from this Friday.

6. You can send your submission via the comments link at the bottom of this post or you can email me via the 'email Craig' menu option in the left side bar. Either way, it will make it through. If a photo is appropriate (and relevant) please send it in a JPG format.

7. Even though it's called a challenge.. you're the only competitor and you are.. your major obstacle. If you can get out of your own way, you might do what you've failed to do in the past. While it's not a competition, I will be giving away a few goodies (books, T-shirts, a place in my next Life Renovation program) to people that I feel have made an outstanding effort. Don'tcha think it's funny that these days we have to motivate people to change their life for the better with prizes... surely the change is the reward?

"I'm not losing weight unless I win a car."
"Then I'll get fat again."

Am I the only one that thinks this is stupid?
I don't get it; I must be missing something.
Lemme know if you've figured it out.

8. Find a reason to succeed. Stop rationalising why now is not the time for you.
If you want to continue to sabotage your life and waste your potential, feel free.
If you want to break the cycle, change your attitude (it's a choice).

9. Every Monday (for the four weeks) you will be required to send us a one hundred word (or less) brief progress report. This is so we can all see how you're going and encourage and support you... and so that you have a whole bunch of accountability partners to report to and keep you doing what you need to do.
Just so you know, I will read every submission.
I will comment when I can..

10. I would encourage you to read other people's submissions and to send through your support and encouragement... either by clicking on the comments link or via email. We will get them and post them either way. I have a good feeling about the potential of something like this concept; no money changing hands, no agendas, no ulterior motives, no products to sell... just a bunch of like-minded people with good motives helping each other towards a better life.
Call me old-fashioned.
It may or may not work; it's up to you guys.

Start sending your submissions from today and feel free to add your (general) thoughts and comments as well.

Cheering you on,

Craig ( ) - group hug.

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Sunday, August 26, 2007

The Attraction of Action

Why do we come to sites like this?
And attend workshops, seminars and lectures?
And read self-help books.
And go to therapy?
And spend money on life-coaches?
And trainers?
And gym memberships?
And all kinds of pills, powders, potions, programs, gizmos and gadgets?

We do it (hopefully not all of it!) because we want... different.
Something else.
Something better.
Better than what we have or experience now.
We want more.
And of course, more means different things to different people.

But I think it's fair to say that we all want to experience positive change in some area of our life or existence.
Our finances, our career, our health, our relationships, our spiritual life; it's individual.
You know what it is for you.

And when we step away from the personal-development fluff, the feel-good jargon and emotional melting pot that is... you (and me), how do we create real change?

That is, be forever different?

Not some temporary change or short-term phase (sound familiar) but a totally different reality.
When we stop looking for the short-cuts and quick fixes and we start to look for long term, life-changing solutions.. what do we find?

When we objectively and methodically study high achievers (how they think, live, choose, behave), we find several common denominators.

I've already discussed a few of them on this site:

1) They are adaptable (our world and everything in it is dynamic, ever-changing... therefore to thrive we need to be adaptable).
2) They have an exceptional attitude (by choice).
3) They consistently choose to deal with discomfort (as they understand that's how we develop skills and strength). They will do what most people won't. When most people are saying "nuh; too hard".. they're just getting fired up.

And today I'm going to add another ingredient into the success recipe.

Successful people are proactive; they do stuff.

While others are thinking, talking, waiting... they're doing.
They consistently take action.
Whether it's convenient, easy, comfortable, practical, popular or not... they always find a way.. to do.

And as someone much smarter than me once said:

"Wisdom lies not in the amount of knowledge acquired but in the degree of its application."

We all know a lot.
(Well, enough anyway).
But many of us don't do.. a lot.

A couple of short stories:

Story one.
I remember my first ever run.
I was fourteen, I was desperately unfit and I weighed ninety kilos (two hundred pounds).
And as you would imagine, I was a chick-magnet.
Hot.
I ran one lap of the soccer field across the road from my house and I nearly died.
Then I walked home.
Slowly.

Every week at my school we were required to complete a compulsory five kilometre (three mile) cross-country run.
I was too fat and unfit, so I walked.
Every week I came last out of about one hundred and thirty kids in my year; always great for the self-esteem.
I was nothing, if not consistent.
Pretty, no.
Consistent, yes.

Even though that first run nearly killed me, I felt a sense of achievement.
The next day I dragged my chubby little self back to the same field and took my sore muscles around for another lap.
I repeated this ritual every day.
I didn't tell anyone; I was too embarrassed.
Over the months my distances and my confidence increased and my weight decreased.
My daily run progressed from a painful four hundred metres to an exhilarating twenty kilometres (twelve miles) at times.
I lost thirty kilos (sixty six pounds) in five months.
What started off as a painful, daunting experience, turned out to be a life-changing, paradigm shifting, mind-blowing thrill ride for the fat kid.

I loved to run.
And my body loved me for it.
And my mind loved what was happening, not only physically, but emotionally and socially also.
Yep, there was a lotta love goin' on for little Craigo.
And not being socially-invisible was nice too.

Even today I am so glad that I decided to take that first painful run.
Some short-term pain definitely led to some long-term gain for me.
I am so glad I decided to take action.

Story two.
As you may or may not know, I began working as a personal trainer in 1987 after working in a range of teaching and instructing roles in gyms for about five years.
Within six months, my personal training work had overtaken all my other work in terms of income and the investment of my time and energy.
I loved the work and I could see that there was huge potential in it.
It was fun, it gave me great pleasure, it was financially attractive and it (personal training, the profession) had not been established at all in this country.
Personal training centres did not exist at all.
After training my clients in a busy commercial gym for a year (not always the ideal environment), I decided that the way to go was for me to set up my own centre; no members, no memberships, no crowds, no waiting for equipment, no mess and no meat-heads staring at my female clients.

By the end of 1989 I had a clear picture in my mind of what Australia's first personal training centre would look like.
I had visualized it, planned it and researched it.
A lot.
Just hadn't done it.

There was just a few small but terrifying issues I had to contend with; the signing of the five-year lease, the spending of every cent I had in the world (and a bit more), overcoming the critics who said it wouldn't work, dealing with my commitment issues (re the five-year lease)... and of course there was the paralyzing fear that kept me awake at nights wondering how the ex-fat kid, with zero business experience, no college degree (at that stage) and no management skills or experience could make this all work.

Sometimes it was hard to differentiate between the fear and the logic.
"Am I just being fearful or is this a reasonable, logical concern".. I would ask myself every day.

For months I fluffed around talking to real-estate agents, equipment suppliers, business owners and a range of 'experts'.
I learned that if you ask ten experts one question you'll get sixteen different answers... that didn't really help.
I also learned that sometimes you gotta trust yerself and figure some stuff out on your own.
I think we often don't trust our gut enough.
In my head I knew it would work but because of fear I kept finding (very logical) reasons to wait.
To do nothing.

By the time I signed that lease I had been visualizing, planning and researching forever.
Seemed like it anyway.

I remember ordering the equipment and signing the lease all in the one day; it was the scariest day of my life.
And the most liberating.
Strangely, I slept well that night.

As soon as I overcame those emotional and psychological hurdles all the practical stuff started to fall into place.
As soon as I determined to be more proactive and less reactive, things started to happen.
Sure there were challenges but it was like I went from being a kid to an adult in one day.
I had to deal with things, so I did.
I had to make it work... so I always found a way.
When before, I often found an excuse.

As painful and as terrifying as that process was at times for me, I could never have imagined how much joy, personal and professional growth, learning and satisfaction would come from it.
The opportunities that have arisen (directly or indirectly) from the action I took and the commitment I made that day never cease to amaze me.
I am so glad I got off my ass, dealt with my fear and committed to be a person who would consistently take action and do what needed to be done.
I didn't know it at the time but that day (the lease-signing day) was the genesis for an amazing, crazy, wild, incredible, fulfilling ride for me.
And just think... I nearly didn't do it.

Today my business in Brighton is the biggest and busiest personal training centre in the country and one of the busiest in the world.
I'm so glad I actually did something.
I'm so glad that I signed that lease and stopped waiting, procrastinating, rationalizing and 'planning'.

I don't share this story with you to impress you... but rather to impress upon you what average, ex-fat kids (normal people) can do when they are proactive.
When they 'get busy'.
When they get off their ass.

In my work I am fortunate enough to meet some amazing people from all walks of life and at all stages of their journey.
One of the things which always strikes me about high-achievers is that they are always doing.
Always getting stuff done.
They are all about taking action... "talk less, do more".. one of my friends always tells me.

So what's the attraction of action for me?
It forces me to grow and learn.
It produces results.
It produces change.
It produces amazing... and I love amazing.

Yes, we make mistakes.
Yes, we get hurt periodically.
And no, it ain't always fun.
But for the most part, it's incredible.
And it's a shit-load better than dying with our music still in us.

Can I speak like that?
Apparently.

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Friday, August 24, 2007

The Parable of the Fat Kid.

Once upon a time... there was a kid.
A kid who loved to eat.
Not unlike many kids, really.

But this kid was different.

He didn't just enjoy the occasional cookie or bowl of ice-cream.
Or burger and fries.
No, he lived for food.
And when he wasn't eating... he was thinking about eating.

At school he struggled to concentrate in class because he was always fantasizing about his next meal.
Food equaled pleasure.. and who wouldn't want an instant 'pleasure fix'?
So easy, so convenient, so accessible and so... instant.
He was the poster boy for the quick-fix generation.
By the time the kid was five, he was fat.
By the time he was seven, he was really fat.
Fortunately for him though, it wasn't real fat; it was puppy-fat.

His loving mother had taught him all about puppy-fat.

It was a temporary condition which affected some boys and girls.
She told him that when he got to a certain age, it would all go.
So that was kinda comforting.
Temporary fat... okay.
Nothing to really worry about.

Although... the kids at school didn't really buy into his mum's (mom's) whole puppy-fat theory.
They came more from the... "hey-you're-a-big-fat-pig-and-we-don't-wanna-play-with-you"... school of thought.

While the taunting got him down at times, a chubby little finger in the peanut butter jar always proved to be somewhat therapeutic and relieve his pain.
Food was his escape.

"How do they squeeze all that pleasure into one little jar"... he would ask himself.

"So much peanut butter and so little time"... he would joke with his family.

They always laughed at his jokes.
Always supportive.

They loved him so much.

"He is so funny and creative..." his parents would tell their friends.
"And gigantic"... the friends would be thinking.

By the time he was twelve he was huge.
Morbidly obese.
And according to dear-old mum, still in the puppy-fat phase.
She still loved to cook for her "little boy" because it was one of the few things that "gave him pleasure".
And making him happy, made her happy.
And a happy home, is a good home.

At school he was mis-understood.
His mother wondered why everyone in his class was so determined to make his life a misery.
Ironically, everyone in his class wondered why he was so determined to eat himself to death.

Yep, home was his refuge, mum was his protector and food was his only joy.

By the time he was fifteen he weighed over a hundred and fifty kilos (330 lbs), he was a diabetic, had joint problems, respiratory problems, high blood pressure and was the subject of constant ridicule.
But not at home.

At home the "F" word was never mentioned.
Too painful.
His family would 'love him at all costs'.

His mother was always desperate to 'protect' him.
And feed him ten thousand calories a day... er, I mean... love him.
If anyone labelled him fat, she would bare her fangs.
The fact that he weighed as much as two or three of his classmates didn't seem to register with her.
"Sure he's carrying a little fat" she would admit to her concerned friends but "like his father, he's big-boned."
Her friends would roll their eyes and bite their tongues.
Mostly.

"The whole family are endomorphic; genetically predisposed to be... bigger", she told her best friend one day.
"Maybe the whole family eats too much and moves to little", her friend replied.
They never spoke again.

"How dare she attack my family like that... why do people need to be so cruel?"
"Bitch."

By the time the Junior reached his final year of high school, he could barely walk.
He would struggle for fifty feet or so and then have to lean on something or preferably, sit.
He missed as many days of school as he attended.
And when he did make it to class, he had to sit at a specially built desk.
He looked like an animal in a special enclosure at the zoo.
He and his industrial-strength desk sat there like an island in a sea of 'normal-sized' people and desks.

His ever increasing mass meant that he now had a permanent wheeze, endured constant painful chafing where his massive thighs rubbed, sweated profusely and smelled like a yak.
A smelly yak.

He also had some practical challenges when he went to the toilet but I don't want to ruin your lunch or dinner, so I'll leave it at that.

More and more concerned people offered their support and help to the mother.
She told them to mind their own business.
"I know what's best for my son", she would snap at them.
One day the phone rang.

It was her son's school.
The blood drained from the mother's face, she dropped the phone and screamed a scream that only a mother could.
Her whole body began to shake and she fell to the floor.

Her husband picked up the phone and spoke to the person on the other end.
He too dropped the phone and began to sob uncontrollably.
The woman lifted her head, turned to her husband and moaned "how could this have possibly happened?"

The end.

*While this story is just that, a story... for an increasing number of people, this tale is a tragic reality. I have seen this story (or similar) in the flesh many times over the years.
Scenarios like this are playing out more and more every day, despite us being more educated, informed and equipped (to fight obesity) than ever before.

As long as we choose to call our fat kids anything but fat, we're doomed.
It's not about being offensive or insensitive, it's about being real, practical and honest.
It's not about inflicting emotional damage, it's about preventing physical damage.
It's about creating forever change.
It's about helping, not hurting.
It's about changing thinking, culture, habits and bodies.
Forever.
It's about being less concerned with political correctness and more concerned with doing what's right.

And to the 'expert' who argued with me on radio last week that we should never weigh kids because of the potential emotional damage, maybe you should be more concerned with finding a practical, physical solution for our fat kids... because based on our current trajectory, some of them will be dead from obesity-related conditions before they have a chance to really embrace all those 'emotional issues' anyway.

* Let us know your thoughts on this emotional and provocative subject (either way)... and tell us where you're from.

Peace.

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Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Living the Dream... or Nightmare.

Warning:
This post is long and kinda heavy.. but a thought-provoking message nonetheless.
You may wanna get y'self a coffee before you start.
And get comfy.

He was thirty years old.
Or possibly forty or fifty.
Maybe sixty.
For this story he was thirty.. but it doesn't really matter.
He... may even have been a.. she.
He may even be you.

He had been swimming in circles for years.
And when he wasn't swimming, he was treading water.
Or peddling backwards on his not-very-cool bike.
His career, finances, relationships, education, attitude, goals and dreams were all like the pond at the end of his street; stagnant.
Stinky.
Unhealthy.
He knew it.
And he hated it.

He was the master of incompletion.
He had 'almost' done a million things.
He had threatened greatness... but never delivered.
He periodically felt sorry for himself.
Okay, often.
He played the blame game.
He was a time waster.
An excuse maker.
He had spoken far too much and done far too little.
For far too long.

He had rationalised, justified and explained away half of his life.
Or more.
He was talented.
Talented and fearful.
Talented and lazy.

He tried to be the big funny guy.
But underneath, he was the big sad guy.
The big lonely guy.
The big frustrated guy.
The big angry guy.

But one day something happened.
The time had come and he was over it.
The switch had flicked.. and he was ready.
At last.
Ready to do whatever it would take.
Ready to change.
He would do anything.
ANY.. thing.

He was sick of himself.
His pathetic existence.
His inability to get the job done.
He wanted more.
He wanted success.
Fulfilment, happiness.
Money.
Heaps of it.
And toys.
Cars, houses, incredible clothes... stuff.
Plenty of that too.
He was tired of scraping by and making do.
Surviving... instead of thriving.

And he was sick of being out of shape.
He wanted to be hot.
Irresistible.
Buffed, ripped and rock hard.
A six-pack would be good.
Maybe a well-placed vein or two.

He wanted it all.
And why not?
If others could 'live the dream' why couldn't he?
Just gotta work for it right?
He was prepared to work.
Finally.
He was prepared to change his attitude.
And at last, he was prepared to get uncomfortable.

The Genesis.
He decided that his metamorphosis would need to start with some serious study and research.
He began to devour self-help books; reading at least one book every week.
He wanted to learn from the best.
The richest, the smartest, the coolest.
The best of the best.
He loved those rags to riches stories; they inspired him.
He looked up to the rich people who came from nothing because he saw himself in their story.
He visualised himself with money... in his big house.. with his expensive car; it was a pretty picture.
He felt drawn to one particular personal development guru who happened to live on his own island.
"The coolest thing ever... would be to have your own island", he fantasized.
"One day..."

When he wasn't selling fridges at 'Fridges R Us', he immersed himself in his new 'success mindset'.
Learning the lingo and the culture.
He started to weave terms like 'paradigm' and 'Neuro-Linguistic Programming' into the tapestry of his daily conversations.
His work colleagues were confused.
And amused.
He didn't really want to be like them any more.
He started to resent what they represented in his life.
He began to mock their 'ignorance' and lack of drive.
Which made for an interesting dynamic in the lunch room.
He didn't care.
"If people don't share my vision, that's their loss", he would tell himself.

One of his numerous books made it very clear..."You have to look after number one in this world, because if you don't, no-one else will".

"Kill or be killed.. the corporate world is a jungle and only the strongest survive".. he told one of his bemused workmates over his skinless-chicken sandwich one lunch time.

He enrolled in numerous courses and programs.
Got himself a 'life-coach'.
Became a personal development aficionado.
Some would say.. a self-help slut.
Not me though; I don't speak like that.

He couldn't get enough of the 'get-rich-in-record-time'.. stuff
He walked on hot coals.
He flew on a trapeze... to overcome some kind of childhood fear.
Or something like that.
He wasn't exactly sure about the circus bit... but his life-coach said it was a must.
As part of his image and attitude overhaul, he got himself a shoulder tattoo; apparently some Chinese symbols meaning something about a 'warrior.'
And some chest and arm waxing.

In the car, his favourite rock station was replaced with Personal Development CD's.
Positive affirmations were posted throughout the house.
Gems like:
"I am a high-achiever"
"I am a millionaire"
"I am a winner in the game of life"... adorned every spare inch of wall space.

He got himself a trainer.
She was hot.
He loved to be seen with his hot trainer.
She didn't love to be seen with him.
He thought he was a chance with her.
He wasn't.

He had his teeth bleached.
Twice.
NASA could have guided the space shuttle back to earth with those teeth.
White would have been an understatement.
His confidence grew like a weed.

He gave up booze, salt, sugar, fat and cigs.
And anything wrapped in plastic.
Except of course, the get-big-and-lean-in-no-time sachets of 'miracle powder' kindly supplied by the afore-mentioned Uber trainer at the 'wholesale price'.
She made fun of him behind his back.
He asked her out fifty times.
She declined fifty times.
He didn't care.
He had a new attitude.
Nothing would get him down.

He trained like an elite athlete.
His trainer's bank balance grew as his ample gut disappeared.
And while the body-fat melted and the muscles grew, he enrolled himself in a real-estate course. He was driven, focused and passionate and he was about to hit pay dirt.
Property was going to be his ticket.

Within twelve months boy-wonder had become a qualified real-estate agent (realtor), had begun working in the industry, had traded his nine year-old Ford for a new BMW and was about to buy his first investment property.
Not long after, the organisation he worked for acknowledged his drive and value to the company, and promoted him.

He lived his job.
He ate, slept and breathed his career.
They promoted him again.
He had no social life or fun.
But he knew the fun would come later.
It could wait.
"People don't understand sacrifice".. he would tell himself.

All he did was work, exercise obsessively and eat over-priced organic food; brown bananas, spotty apples and chewy half-cooked rice.
Friends and family had to "take a back seat for a while".
And for the most part, he found his family to be something of an 'emotional drain'.

Within three years he was a partner in the company.
Unheard of.
He had set a record.
The BMW had made way for a Porsche and his personal portfolio had grown to eleven properties and significant investments in blue-chip stocks.
He was making some serious cash.
Just what he always wanted.
He was on a roll.
He was indeed walking the talk.
Some people thought he was obnoxious, arrogant and one-dimensional.
He thought they were losers who were trying to get in his way.

His body-fat was seven percent, his teeth were whiter than ever, his confidence was at an all-time high, he was waxed within an inch of his life, he had his own personal assistant... and best of all, his gorgeous trainer had realised that she did love him after all.
Swell.
Who'da thunk it??

Just before his thirty-sixth birthday he set up his own real-estate company.

Within two years he had branches all over the country, couldn't remember how many properties he personally owned, had more luxury cars than he could ever drive and had been featured in 'Success' magazine.
He did TV and radio interviews.
He bought a forty thousand dollar watch.
And he bought more and more... stuff.

Finally, he was living the dream.
Even his assistant had an assistant.

His amazing metamorphosis had brought with it a whole new group of... friends.
He was so much more popular now.
People noticed him, knew him, wanted to hang out with him.
He didn't speak to his old friends any more.
Or his family much.
Apparently they were pretty jealous.. and had really changed.
They didn't really 'understand' him.
"Oh well."

Two days after his forty-first birthday and eleven years after his first personal development workshop, our super-achiever sold his business to a large international company for hundreds of millions of dollars.
He was richer than rich.
He would never have to work again.
Ever.

Even though he hadn't spoken to his family for two years, he thought they might ring to congratulate him when they heard the news.
They didn't.
"Typical", he thought.
He was mad at them for being so dysfunctional and resentful.
He vowed to never to speak to them again.
"Don't need that anchor around my neck anyway."

Two months later he bought his own island.
It wasn't Australia or anything... but as islands go, it was nice.

He built his dream house; a mansion overlooking the ocean, complete with gym, theatre and a walk-in wardrobe as big as his parents house.
He had his own air-strip, a helipad and of course enough toys to keep him happy and occupied forever.
He and the trainer (who was now his wife) fought a lot but he had learned to pacify her with some regular 'retail therapy.'
"Give her the credit card, send her out the door and I get some peace and quiet" he would tell his rich buddies.

And while she was happily spending his money, he and his 'assistant' would indulge in a little therapy of their own.
Yep, he had it all figured out.
"Best of both worlds."

Sometimes he marvelled at how smart he was.
Even though his best friend in the world, an old school buddy, had stopped talking to him.
"Better off anyway".
"We were socially-disconnected; no common ground.."
"We're in different places now..I've grown, he hasn't".. he would try and convince himself.

One evening after enduring World War Three (thousand) with 'Mrs' super-achiever, our hero went outside to sit on his massive balcony, in his very expensive chair and look at his very expensive view on his very expensive private island.
He collected his thoughts and looked down to admire his waxed, muscular arms in the light of a brilliant full moon. The veins he had once longed for were now permanently on display just below the skin of his lean, athletic body.
His teeth were now so white, they were almost fluorescent.

He rested his protein shake on his rock-hard abs and stared at the waves.
It was the most beautiful view in the world.. but it may as well have been a black hole.
For a man with everything, he felt distinctly poor.
And alone.
And foolish.

For the first time in years he was completely honest with himself.
A lone tear rolled down his cheek.
And he let himself feel.
Really feel.
No distractions, no noise, no ego.
And finally, no bullshit.

For over a decade he had lived 'in his head.'
And for the first time in an eternity, he listened to what his heart had to say.
That single tear turned into a torrent.
He felt pain like never before.
Instantly he had a heightened sense of awareness through every cell of his body.
It hurt to breath.

The tears were liberating.
Slowly the pain turned into joy as he began to really understand success for the first time.
All of a sudden wealth had nothing to do with money.
He walked inside and calmly picked up the phone...

"Dad, it's me..."

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Monday, August 20, 2007

Beware the Dream Squasher.

Sat down to eat my lunch yesterday, turned on the TV to take a little time out and there was a re-run of Everybody Loves Raymond on.
Perfect.
Couldna planned it better.

Food, couch and Raymond; nirvana.
Such simple creatures, us men.
So easy to please.
But maybe that's just me.

I love that show... even the re-runs.
Very well written.
Clever.

Anyway, Deborah (Ray's wife) had decided that she wanted to re-enter the work force after an extended period of time raising kids and managing the home.
She was very excited.

Predictably, this notion was met with underwhelming support by the socially-inappropriate, selfish and emotionally-challenged Ray and his mother (Marie).

Ray felt that his wife shouldn't 'need' to work and should have all her needs met by being a mother and a wife... somehow he found a way to bring the situation back to himself and his needs.
As he always does.
Fancy a man doing that?
Strange.

Anyway... the more Ray and Marie tried to simulate happiness and enthusiasm (for Deborah's job-hunting endeavours), the more it was apparent that they didn't want her to re-ignite her career at all; they wanted her to fail.

Deborah was hurt by their lack of support.
She labelled them both 'Dream Squashers.'

I loved it when that term came out of her mouth because it so accurately and succinctly describes so many people that I've met over my journey.
You've met a bunch of them too... they're everywhere.
If you try (even a little bit), you can picture at least one or two of them.
Right?
They are a first cousin of the Energy Vampire.
You may even be related to one.
Closely perhaps.

They feel compelled to tell you why you can't or won't achieve your goals and dreams.
Or why you're silly to try.
Or why now... is not the right time.
Or why it's not safe... and why.. "I'm telling you this for your own good."
Or how they tried something similar.. and it's just not worth it.
Or how chasing your dreams doesn't pay the bills.

Dream Squashers work under numerous pseudonyms... here are a few of the common ones:

1. The voice of reason.
2. A concerned friend.
3. An 'expert'.
4. Dad.
5. Mum.

Now, before I receive any abusive comments, let me clarify one thing... Dream Squashers are not to be confused with the people in your life who are genuinely trying to protect your best interests... there is much great advice to be taken (graciously) from friends and family.
But sometimes they are one and the same.
They don't mean to be, or want to be.. but sometimes they are Dream Squashers.

Here are some tips for dealing with the Dream Squashers who might come into your world:

1. Realise that they don't understand dreams.
Your dreams anyway.
They don't need to... only you do.
Don't try and persuade, convert them or convince them.

2. Be direct with them...
"If I want your feedback, advice or input... I'll let you know, thanks."
Don't let other people tell you what your dreams, goals or standards should be.
Many will try.

3. Be selective about who you share your dreams with.

4. If you want your dream to become a reality, it needs to be attached to a practical action plan. Dreaming is great.. but not enough (of itself) to create results.

5. Avoid the career Dream Squasher at all costs... they exist.
They delight in bringing others down and strategically and viciously raining on your parade.
They are typically sarcastic, condescending, critical, arrogant and self-righteous.
They resent the success of others (I think I've met most of them).
Usually they are miserable and have achieved nothing (much) themselves.
Other than that.. they're great.

6. Don't be precious... there will always be critics, 'experts' and Dream Squashers.
Toughen up.
Don't expect universal support.
Enjoy it when it's there.. but don't expect it.
If you crumble every time you encounter resistance, your therapist will be rich and you'll be frustrated.
And poor.
Successful people are resilient.
Use the resistance to make you stronger and to develop those much-needed skills.

7. Succeed.
Apart from the sense of satisfaction, the joy, the fun and personal growth you'll experience.. it will annoy the crap out of the Dream Squashers.

And ya gotta love that.

Lemme know your thoughts on Dream Squashers and where you're from.

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Saturday, August 18, 2007

Sitting at Life's Train Station.

It's five fifteen in the morning.

You wake up excited with a day of new and amazing possibilities ahead of you.
You bounce out of bed and hit the floor

Motivational Speaker

Exercise Scientist

Motivation Melbourne

Renovate Your Life Blog

Don't forget the GYST challenge....

Mr Glass-Half-Empty 2007; and the winner is...

Sure, girls are cool.. but I so don't wanna be one.

The Inaugural Get-Yer-Shit-Together Challenge.

The Attraction of Action

The Parable of the Fat Kid.

Living the Dream... or Nightmare.

Beware the Dream Squasher.

Sitting at Life's Train Station.