All we leave is a memory

The subject of immortality has tantalized imaginations for, well, ever. Perhaps the thought of living forever is appealing because we really don’t know what will happen when we die. There is a lot of speculation and debate about that but this post isn’t about all that fuss. No, this post is another gentle reminder. This post is about the only sure way we can live after death. And that one way is as a memory for other people.

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A Human Common Err?

Do you think it is a human err to assume everyone is at the same level as you are? This is difficult to opine about without actually falling into the trap itself. So I will make it personal and see if anyone else struggles with this problem. I tend to assume that because I have reached a level of understanding everyone else already arrived. It’s as if I expect to be the last one to the party.

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Life Lessons from the Volleyball Court

I blame volleyball for the fact I’m still single. That’s right. It’s all volleyball’s fault I sit at a table for one.

Okay, okay, so the real reason is my lack of desire to play the game. Ever since it was on the rotation in grade school’s PE class, I have had a strong dislike of playing the game. “Please don’t hit the ball to me,” I’d think to myself in a prayer-like chant. That continued through Jr. High and High School’s PE rotation as well. I never developed an appreciation for the game. And since it is the go-to fall back in single wards, I’d avoid it. Hence, singledom. Just not my thing. So imagine my surprise when my youngest niece develops a liking toward it. Enough liking to be on the High School’s volleyball team. That is the only reason I’ve been watching the sport lately. As I sat at her game recently, I thought of how the sport can relate to life. Continue reading

My Quest for Personal Power. But in a good kinda way.

I recently read this blog post by my friend Stephanie.  Two days later, I was embroiled in a family conflict.  I could feel gray hairs popping out from my latest dye job from stress as I thought about Steph’s words.  But it was stress I brought on myself.

If I would have communicated better early on, I may not have gotten an upset stomach.  Nor would I have been tempted to play the blame game.  Or label a certain someone as a bossy brat (even if it is apropos).  And perhaps, I wouldn’t have been tempted to become a hermitess and disown certain extended family members  (I admit, I muttered, “who needs family?”).

There is a finesse to good communication skills.  A person, especially a woman, who takes charge, is quickly labeled with the negative connotation of being “bossy.”  I know I’ve done it.  Personally, I need to learn positive communication habits.  Or in other words, how to say what I want and then hear what I may not want to hear.  I believe poor communication habits have led to 90% of the stress in my life.  And maybe even my premature gray hair (just kidding, that was genetic).

Perhaps, perfect communication skills will be a key in obtaining the utopian society we all strive for.  Until then, in the words of John Mayer, I need to say what I need to say.  If I don’t, I can’t blame other people for my stress.