When you’re bogged down with writer’s block, creative fog, even brain freeze, what do you do to break free from its hold? Here’s one way to purge the hive of such impediments. Go to an opening, an art exhibit, perhaps one which deals in a medium that you know little of. In my case, think fabrics, paper and ceramics and other materials—either in combination—or crafted exclusively with fabric. An oversimplification, but a few photos can better illustrate the creations displayed at the exhibit, Beauty is Resistance, our Fall Art in the Barn Exhibtion. I was impressed with the inventiveness, originality, concept development, creativity, and overall execution of the various pieces.
At browngrotta arts, co-curators Tom Grotta and Rhonda Brown have managed original art, crafted by internationally recognized artists for more than 3 decades. My “introduction” to the pieces of art at this exhibit was an A-1 engagement of diminishing my brain fog, creative block and so on. Neither words nor photos can describe the pieces. This is a case of what I actually see and feel is amazing, because of what is physically in front of me. A demonstrative be-in-the-moment activity, to say the least. So, please take a moment to peruse a small sampling of what was on display.
A special thank you to Tom Grotta and Rhonda Brown for their hospitality and sharing their knowledge about the artists, the scope of this exhibit and their anecdotes of life in international Art. Photography: courtesy of Tom Grotta. All rights for the images and the Art are those of the artists.
Home artist Lija Rage; mixed media, wooden sticks, linen and copper [2-panels; detail shown in second image].
From Chaos to Reality artist Aleksandra Stoyanov; sisal, cotton
Shred dollar artist Chris Drury; US currency [detail shown below]
Female Husk II artist Anda Klancic; torso [from Momento Mori composition] with cone; palm tree bark, synthetic filament, acrylic, and metal wire
Ce qu’il en reste IX artist Stephanie Jacques; willow, gesso, linen thread
Flower Colors artist Mary Merkel-Hess; paper, cord, paper
Rhonda Brown co-curator
Tom Grotta co-curator
Photography a professional photographer, Tom Grotta created a display showcasing some of the literature and gear he has used through his ongoing career.
In our current state of dystopia, many of us choose to distance ourselves from news media in all its forms. All that noise creates too much anxiety, along with all the other discomforts that accompany “news and information.” We are exposed to a colossus of news briefs, articles and “breaking news at this hour” enough to ignite [or bore] the minds of writers/authors well versed in our state of fear, hopelessness, frustration, suffering et al.
Misery knows no bounds, but so does hope and happiness.
Relevance and purpose can hold both good and bad in thoughts and actions, but your choice in one or the other adjectives relies in your beliefs and values that help you deal with your day-to-day. You may not realize–or even think about–your own stoic qualities.
Consider the opening paragraph of Charles Dickens A Tale of Two Cities.
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way–in short, the period was so far like the present period that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.”
When you realize you can’t control everything, but manage the ones you can, then you’re in a better place than many others.
[Dylan Thomas, poet; Do not go gentle into that good night.]
Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
The British Medical Journal [BMJ] is a one of the world’s most respected and referenced publications on everything that deals with human health, wellness, disease and fields of medicine. Imre J. P. Loefler, MD [1929-1977] was a frequent contributor and an accomplished surgeon, conservationist and writer.
I came across one of his BMJ articles, “Is Longevity a Sustainable Goal?” archived in the U.S. National Library of Medicine [NLM]. The points he made in his article 22-years ago are as timely now as it was in 2002. But are they….?
Immortality and longevity are 2 distinct subjects, where the former is a philosophical if not spiritual notion that an individual has a soul that exists in perpetuity. It’s a construct that moves aside the real limitations of the physical self. Longevity is a span of time in one’s life or a specific span such as a career or avocation. You can draw parallels to both nouns, but longevity poses the question to many other things in our lives: how much longer will this car/fence/water heater/ roof last…? Assuming one’s in reasonably good health, there’s the question of, how much longer will I, or can I, live….?
In terms of our human life, common denominators hinge on several factors that can impact a decision. We understand the variability of culture, country, diet, healthcare among a myriad of other attributes and factors, which play roles in the longevity equation. And yet there are several things that gnaw into my own sense of self, and in the process posits this Jekyll-and-Hyde aspect that is very much entangled with our human existence. Results for the greater good, and bad ones created to our detriment. I’d like to think on the whole that we as living beings understand the moral zenith, which is all things living deserve to live out their lives. While we like to think that some things in life contain order and purpose, a much larger question is this: Is the quest to prolong one’s life a mission to extend life, or is it to ameliorate guilt and sadness expressed by friends, relatives, colleagues, etc. at a time when that life is so close to expiring? Who’s right? What are the “side effects” of prolonged life for family, society, resource utilization….the very survival of our planet?
Mayfly-ephemoroptera courtesy: Fly-fish Circle
From the brevity of a Mayfly [some adults have a 5-minute lifespan] to the Galapagos Turtle [100 plus years], Nature–for the most part–has the first right of refusal regarding the lifespan of all living things. We just don’t know when it expires. We do know that medical technology is finding ways to prolong life. As more and more discoveries point to the possibility of prolonging life, where is the end point?
Ultimately, prolonging life boils down to not only diet, sleep, exercise, preventive measures and so forth, but the details at the smallest and likely most complex of things microscopic. Think things at the cellular level and the knowledge we glean from things such as DNA and mRNA.
In 2020, French microbiologist Emmanuelle Charpentier, PhD and US biochemist Jennifer Doudna, PhD received the Nobel Prize in Chemistry for discovering the CRISPR/CAS 9 genetic scissors. They are the first women’s team to earn a Nobel prize. For us mortals, it means there is now an extremely precise way of changing the DNA in plants, animals and microorganisms. Taking that to the next level, it means near endless possibilities that can help those involved in the Life Sciences: research in potential cures for the most virulent and deadly of diseases can now be scrutinized by their genomes and subsequently altered.
Can you imagine the 2 most obvious yet divergent results from genetic modification? One modification for the greater good [cure for ALS, Alzheimer’s Disease, cancer, e.g.], the other for something wholly individualistic [changing genes for eye-color, height, e.g.]. And who determines areas or potential end-results as intractable?
I’ll let Dr. Loefler have the last word on this:
“Ultimately, the pursuit of longevity as a cultural goal lacks moral content and can be regarded as a form of hedonism. All great religions and all great philosophies would have agreed that the question of how long one lived was subordinate to the question of how one lived and what someone had done with his or her life. Nowadays, however, there seems to be one agreement only: that to live longer and longer is a good thing. Vouchsafing a long life for everyone seems to be the driving force of contemporary world culture. The consequences need to be pondered.“
I’ve come across a lot of A-words lately: amazing, atomic, artificial, augmented, abstract, auspicious, audacious, accountable, admirable, apathy, appreciation, affection, accomplished, alarming, Arctic, Antarctica, abysmal, appalling, anachronism and so forth. Like a daisy chain made of paper, these words are linked and yet each easily broken free by the slightest of tension. And while some connections may not make a whole lot of sense, there are reasons however small, that connections take place. Anxiety, lack of focus, melancholy, fear, joy, anticipation, distraction, etc. etc., the Yin-Yang of this is that the very same attributes that prompted the connections can be the same to break them. It depends on time and place. Context is everything.
Audacious. Approx. 35-degrees on a starboard bank.
The words come from various sources, anything and everything that shapes our life experience. With this exercise, the empirical nature of each word puts aside the rational, and instead embraces sentience, that ability to feeldepth of things experienced. It’s certain that others who feel existential—rightfully so in our fractured society—may feel embarrassed yet genuine. What could be more human than to feel concern about our current state of affairs [macro] and our relationships [micro]?
Anachronism. At the stable. The Mount: Edith Wharton’s summer residence.
I’m feeling abstract [visualize Cubism Art] and yet oddly auspicious because many things in life and living are not rational. We are prone to rely more on our senses, the very emotions that can either ruin or celebrate moments in our lives. Yes, I’d rather feel embarrassed and genuine versus being stymied with self-serving, deductive reasoning. The former brings a sense of order, the latter a chance to improve our emotional intelligence and increase a capacity to further understand each other.
Abstract: The Slave Market & Disappearing Voltaire.
Life imitates Art, or is it Art imitates Life? Similarly in marketing, it’s not what you’re getting, but what you think you are getting. Perception is everything and even more so in the here and now. It’s a refrain that frequently echoes in my thinking.
Admirable.Augmented.Appreciation.Arctic-Antarctica: an aftermathAuspiciousAugmented.Affection…with my favorite “cup-of-tea”
There will be no “B” collection, existential-word-dump, involving any other letter, or a character for that matter. An exercise with one letter is enough for me, and probably for you as well.
In conversations, and things written, a question posed usually prompts us to reconsider a position we hold, maybe a perspective quite different from what’s already been established in our own thinking. This collage, this tapestry-of-a-post may not mean much to anyone, but it could be provocative enough to slightly encourage another perspective. Why not?
The seasons are moving quickly and as I get older my own temporal reality is based on just how fast time seems to go by. I lean towards the empirical and the sentient qualities of the here and now to help me keep it all together.
I never thought I´d grow up so fast so far. To know yourself is to let yourself be loved. Do you ever get me? Shower me with affection and I’ll return in kind. I have no hidden motive, I am blind. Do you ever get me?
It was home back in the day. Situated on 48 acres, the “cottage” contains 44 rooms.
Have you ever tried to look at something right in front of you and discern one particular detail. It could be anything: color, shape, texture, scale/size, any specific object and so forth. I’m referring to a single element that piques your attention, whether the element is large or small, plain looking or colorful, simple or complex by design. Naumkeag offers history, a feast for your senses and options to indulge in a location that’s an antithesis to our present-day way of living. So, with an unhurried pace, walk the grounds, examine the gardens, enjoy the vistas and of course the house that was the summer home of prominent lawyer, Joseph Choate and his wife, Caroline. They referred to their residence in Stockbridge, MA as a “cottage.” You don’t need to be a cognoscenti to appreciate landscape design, flowers, stonework, or architecture. No agenda, just a dose of quiet time in a locale that puts you in the Housatonic River Valley, a place in the Berkshires as pastoral as any you’ll find across New England.
Naumkeag is a cornucopia of details. You’re offered a buffet of elements that rightfully distract you from monitors, traffic, deadlines, meetings along with other indeterminate noises. Granted the elements–or distractions–are innocuous, there’s a realization that having these very details shrink the less important, stressful elements that occupy your mind. Well, at least in my mind.
Where’s my focus? Is it obvious to you? Can it as much be yours as it is mine?
You might say this is an exercise in discernment, a way of sharpening perceptions, a means to refocus on other details/elements that may lead you to another level of thinking. The process is still your own, but this time, you’ve given yourself the beginnings of a map that’s genuinely yours.
A benefit of these sorties is this sense of life copacetic; in spite of the routines and doldrums, there are moments that are the opposite of what ails us. In the world of art and the written word, we can see and feel just about anything. Having a sense of place, in this space and time, not in your past and where the future is not promised to any of us, the now matters. That’s it. Don’t waste it. Appreciate don’t pontificate.
The exercise of pulling a detail out and away from everything else pushes me to consider and associate with another perspective of whatever detail I look at. The reds and yellows in the tulips appear even more intense when surrounded by the middle greys in the photographs. The broadleaf in one corner of the greenhouse looks healthy, in large part because of the depth of its green color. Nothing has changed really, and neither have the proprieties of the object or the surroundings. What’s changed is the manner in which you deconstruct details.
Those with a proclivity to capture details can notice more than what meets the eye. Beyond colors, tendrils of an iron chair, the gradation of a solid color to one of a lesser though similar hue, I tend to go toward an object, experience or what have you, that’s relevant to my personal history. You might say it’s akin to a word association game, a yin-yang of opposites as well as things similar. The associations can be personal, simple or complex, a source of light-heartedness or burdened echoes ruminating within your memory.
This is a modification of the immemorial saying, Stop and smell the roses [or tulips]. Instead, reframe your perspective: You can see the big picture, but details bring you closer to the value of the picture.
It’s been said that everything you needed to learn and know in order to get through a day was taught in kindergarten. That was the early-in-life primer, essentially a course in fundamentals: polite behavior, expressions of gratitude, common courtesy and common sense in all things you say and act upon. Some life lessons around loyalty, unconditional love, patience, trust, kindness–among others–were influenced by my dog, Humphrey. Naturally, various experiences with family, teachers/professors and good friends added to that mix as well, as well it should.
Humphrey
Humphrey was a miniature cockapoo, but there was nothing small in his character or demeanor. Simply put, he acted like he was the biggest, baddest, dog east of the Mississippi. He possessed a radar that had a way of measuring and reading the nature of most grown ups, and of course other four-legged creatures [read: neighborhood dogs he didn’t quite like]. I’ve heard it said that the size of the dog doesn’t matter as much as the size of its heart. And that little guy had a huge heart. Children were another story. He was comfortable around them. Humphrey was just as curious about kids, as the kids were with this little guy. Throughout his life, many thought Humphrey to be a puppy. In a sense he was that in many ways.
Our winter dress code.
It makes sense to me that the weight and burden of grief that comes from the loss of a pet correlates to the amount and type of affection you gave the pet, and vice versa. Reciprocity at its finest. Quite frankly, that equation is the same for family, significant others and close friends. When you truly care about someone or something, you give it your all, certainly your heart and soul as a minimum. MJ and I support each other in all of this. She did, indeed, have a big part in Humphrey’s life, as did our kids and grandkids. Those connections or bonds don’t disappear at death. Not surprisingly, we had thought about ways to extend Humphrey’s life, perhaps just a bit more care or special intervention would’ve helped, but time waits for no one. Second thoughts arose wondering if any intervention for Humphrey could still help him. I think part of understanding what love is revolves around one’s willingness to let go. We’d like to think that as the end drew closer, that that pup knew he added so much to our days, and vice versa. Life lessons arrive from many points. From the smallest of vignettes to those large and complex, there’s something one can glean from experience and interaction.
Two happy, ol’ dogs…
Not surprisingly, other events or milestones reach out and overwhelm us, including one in particular. About a week after Humphrey died, one of our daughters and her husband added to the number of grandchildren. Their second child–and our fifth grandchild–was a welcome sight!
Welcome, dear grandson…!
He was the salve to our sadness. The sounds and expressions of loss and affirmation differ. Death and grief are shadowed by life, not the other way around. That new baby dampened down some of the grief we’ve been carrying. The creation and arrival of a new life, affirms the reality that dying and being born are conditions each of us cannot deny. With one, comes the other.
Fate added another exclamation point to all of this. Just before the end of March, MJ’s sister suddenly passed away from heart failure made more complex by cancer. And just like that, death set us back yet again. Nostalgia, sadness, regret and second guessing returned in force. No sooner than when the new baby arrived home, MJ and I were thinking about an obituary and a funeral to attend in short order.
In all of this, I’m reminded of what MJ’s mom said about the passing away of loved ones: remember them on their birthdays, not just on the day they died. That notion has stuck by us for quite awhile now. With birthdays come celebrations, the gathering of family and friends, and an opportunity to reconnect with good times and the people who are and were a part of that. To auld lang syne, to “times that have gone by.” We can think of any number of experiences that raised a smile, a laugh, a few tears, but don’t mistake this as longing or living in the past. It’s really a time to be in the moment, a key one at that, to share recollections with those in attendance and in doing so, our connections to each other are again [or for the first time!] affirmed.
My take on all that’s happened is that our willingness to interact with each other can never be replaced with the efficiency of Facetime, Zoom Meetings, teleconferencing and any other present-day digital communication. The attributes of efficiency cannot separate us from emotions and empathy. There are lessons woven into experiences that can be shared, indeed as some should anyway. It’s what makes each of us a wholly unique, sentient being.
The peaks and valleys this past March, made clear that we need to nurture our connections to family and friends, to dogs and cats and pets, and to others outside our zones of comfort. Good or bad, joyful or sad, the confluence of your feelings shared with others enhances many of life’s lessons…
This is the view from my office. Because this window faces north, changes in weather often come this way, and today was no exception. A front was slowly moving through bringing with it some drizzle if not showers and a pinch of wet snow for good measure. I go through some days feeling creatively barren, as if covered with a fog. My brain cannot keep focus of what’s important, nor can it generate a spark of an idea. I’d welcome a nugget of thought that morphs into a theme, a sentence, a paragraph and even a photograph.
When that kind of fog moves in, I used to double down on my brain as if I could purposefully, indeed consciously command by merely thinking, “I need something to work with here! Get it off the ground.” A couple mugs of green tea or coffee later, nothing appears on my creative radar. And so I apply a way of thinking and visualizing to help reveal something/anything beneath that fog. I imagine what’s lying beneath not only my creative fog, but the cloak draped outside my window. Somehow the symbiosis of such processing helps clear my brain fog. It doesn’t reveal something monumental; it’s not a Eureka! moment at all. Some real right-brain elbow juice comes into play. I’m from the school that believes there’s no such thing as a “dumb idea or answer.” Possibilities abound depending on your attitude.
The transition time varies, sometimes in an hour, other times a day or 2 later. I suppose other efforts have probably taken longer to render that creative crumb-of-an idea or concept. If I knew how to sketch, perhaps it would be easier and at times faster to arrive at the idea. However, it’s just the way this person works. Not very exciting. The excitement–if you can call it that–is more a feeling of relief and satisfaction.
Whether I’m looking at a blank sheet of paper, a clean page in my journal or through a camera viewfinder [yes, very old school this guy], I sometimes think of Occam’s razor, a philosophy that states when troubled with competing solutions or ideas for a desired outcome, often the simplest version is the very solution that makes sense.
Time, energy and focus are 3 KPIs [Key Performance Indicators] for mulitasking. And likely there are other indicators, and for those, I’ll need an ombudsman to help reset my already overloaded brain. In any one of these factors, you either have it, lose it or want it. For the most part, I’d say most people want them all, or to at least hold onto whatever’s in you.
However, multitasking is not really multitasking.
Ms. Nancy Napier, Ph.D. and contributor to Psychology Today identifies it more as “switch-tasking.” For decades we’ve heard that new electronics and computers and software are supposed to help make our professional lives much easier and faster, that’s rarely the case. Many of my marketing projects are open—actually minimized—on my screen. Perhaps “minimizing” those open windows and apps is in actually diluting the strength of your project[s]. Dr. Napier points out switching between projects is counter productive. In fact, it takes a good amount of time and energy to realign your mental details jumping from one open project to another. All of this creates stress [but we already knew that].
As Dr. Napier puts it, multitasking is mentally and physically rough on anyone. The mode of working start-stop-start-stop-restart becomes a catalyst for mistakes, inefficiency and time lost. As the saying goes, “Well, there’s 30-minutes I can’t get back.”
Did you happen to notice the bee in the first photo [the sunflower]? No, well, were you multitasking….excuse me, “switch tasking?”
What a strange, odyssey we are on. Are we in the initial stages of a pre-dystopian epoch? That’s an unnerving take on our tomorrows. I am as guilty as the next for failing to live in the moment. Thus you could–and perhaps should–interrupt my ruminating about the past while also worrying about the future.
No one can undo history and the future is not promised to any of us. So, it’s the here and now, the very present moment where we consciously or rotely go through our lives with purpose or with routine motions of day-to-day life.
Fly fishing for many, for me, is part of life. Time spent on the water delivers familiar notions of preparation, anticipation and the knowledge that the day is, quite frankly, a gift. With all that’s going on in the world, I would say most readers looking at this are doing much better than many others. And having the gift, a day such as being able to go fly fishing is one that should not be taken for granted. Getting to a favorite spot–whether somewhat new or all-too-familiar–jump starts my awareness for the here, for the right now. For those few important things that are usurped by the ephemeral things that entangle us, yes, we all need to live in the present moment!
So, on this Independence Day weekend, take a chance. Make the most of whatever day you have. Any one is a gift. Even when things go awry [I fell into the water moments after releasing this trout!], or not according to plan [I could’ve left the water empty handed but for the wet clothes that chilled me to the bone!] , don’t dwell on what might’ve-could’ve-should’ve happened. That’s done.
I think you’d be much better off acknowledging how far you’ve come.
And for the aspiring fly-fisher, that beautiful brown was caught and released on an an unusually cool late June, mid-morning [10:00 am?]. The details: o I used a #16 pheasant’s tail nymph I tied with a barbless Partridge hook [unweighted]; o tied to a 5X fluoro tippet about 2-to 2 1/2 -feet in length; o attached to a tippet ring on a 6-foot furled dacron [?] leader; o to a 4WF fly line; o spooled onto a Grey’s cassette reel with #20-backing o all collaborating with a Winston Biiix 9-foot 4WT fly rod
……From a distance You look like my friend Even though we are at war. From a distance I just cannot comprehend What all this fighting’s for. From a distance There is harmony And it echoes through the land And it’s the hope of hopes It’s the love of loves It’s the heart of every man It’s the hope of hopes It’s the love of loves This is the song for every man. God is watching us God is watching us God is watching us From a distance.
On a recent flight home, 2 songs came to mind. An epiphany of sorts became apparent as I looked down on Springfield, Massachusetts and Ski Sundown in New Hartford, Connecticut.
Ski Sundown in New Hartford, Connecticut
In light of the Ukraine-Russia war, it’s not a stretch to understand the effect of distance when watching something from afar. Things are not always as they seem, but up close, enough details emerge to create a clearer picture. Most of us see what’s happening from a distance, from the safety of our screens playing out “breaking news” of the terror and the maddening reality of one country imposing its incorrigible intentions on an independent nation.
At 29,000 feet [8,839 meters]
At altitude, it’s easy to “not see” the actualities of what’s coming and going at ground level. And yet what impacts me the most is how the innocents and defenders suffer and die, of how the children struggle to understand this detestation that arrived from nowhere. Modern journalism can report events as visceral and undiluted, anywhere at anytime. In that sense, we see more than what we want to.
I leave this post with the words Enjolras sang during the scene At the Barricades, from the musical, Les Miserables.
Do you hear the people sing? Singing a song of angry men? It is the music of a people Who will not be slaves again.
When the beating of your heart Echoes the beating of the drums. There is a life about to start When tomorrow comes.
Les Miserables by Victor Hugo Les Miserables, the London Musical, trademarked by Cameron Macintosh Overseas.
A benefit of changing seasons is precisely that: change. Here in New England, the 4 seasons do more than adjust amounts of daylight, colors of sunrise and sunset, the appearance/disappearance of flora, the transitions of both diurnal and nocturnal activities, owing in part to the amount of daylight/nightlight available for particular pursuits from tennis to star gazing. The change in seasons are as much physical as they are metaphysical, philosophical and experiential. The seasons are what you make them to be.
25th Floor–Just after a rainstorm
Often my cleansing breaths are interpreted as sighs of disappointment, or relief, a reaction to someone or something that gives purchase to both feelings. Since the arrival of Covid, I’ve made a conscious effort to use more cleansing breaths. I’m reminding myself there are far worse things to be disappointed with, and using some calming behaviors can make a difference.
25th Floor–North
The benefits of regularly using cleansing breaths has a way of taking edges off of things [vis a vis, the stress produced by today’s level of uncertainty]. Deep breaths and exhales do have physical and mental benefits. Gentle stretches [another cleansing breath, please] coupled with a proactive mindset that focuses on out with the bad, and in with the good has a lasting effect on our overall demeanor.
Ground Floor–Cape Cod
By extension, whenever I see a changing sky—especially one with clouds or on windy days—I attribute these shifts of clouds and air to cleansing breaths. However these are done by Mother Nature on behalf of our troubled planet. Earth is having a hard time rejuvenating much of what humankind has taken for granted, even wasted or destroyed.
Colorado
Whenever I’m out and about, feeling that need for solitude and distraction-free thinking, I load up on cleansing breaths and allow myself the chance to attain “groundedness” a term, I believe, coined by Stephen Hayes, Ph.D., professor of psychology at the University of Nevada. To avoid any confusion, I’ll merely say that attaining a semblance of groundedness means accepting and facing the here and now [however uncomfortable], and to make a commitment or shift of working on things that can mentally/emotionally help you.
Boulder, CO at sunset
The simplest example I can think of is this feeling or acceptance that one’s worklife/career is a dead end and wouldn’t be a dead end if the company your worked for was “better.” There are a myriad of other reasons to choose from. Instead of losing yourself and using up energy on this discontent, nurture a way to make yourself stand out. This isn’t about writing the great American novel or closing on a stupendous sale; it’s more in the line of working from your known strengths to optimize your “here-and-now” going forward.
Nantucket Island, Massachusetts
Now, before you do anything else, take that cleansing breath….
Carlo Centeno 