It’s my experience that many people have no clue when they’ve “lost the room.” That means they continue talking but don’t notice that no one is listening.

Successful comedians and successful teachers have developed their sensory acuity to the point that they immediately can tell when they’ve gone off course, and that sensation leads them back to a workable path.

Some people will throw up on you if you let them. That means that their only purpose is to say what they want without any idea that their spewings are alienating you. You’ve got to interrupt them or you’re in for a long, smelly encounter.

Like most flaws, it’s easier to spot them in others than it is to notice them in yourself. The exercise is to start noticing how you’re being received.

We can all imagine the guy at work in the break room telling an off-color joke to someone, not noticing that there are others within earshot who may be offended. But can we begin to notice that lack of sensory acuity in ourselves?

The key is to pay attention while you are speaking. Start noticing others’ reactions in real time. Also, pay attention when someone is speaking to you rather than going inside your head and planning what you are going to say next. That practice is at the top of the list of communication killers.

There is a very successful self-help author who is the worst “professional” public speaker I have ever encountered. He is intent on getting out his message but isn’t getting the message that half the room has disengaged. That’s lack of sensory acuity. Good thing he writes well.

His attention was completely on himself. It never came out to see what others were up to. I’m genuinely surprised he didn’t trip on his way to the podium.

Just giving a bit more attention on how you’re being received will give your message a greater chance of getting through and not have people mentally check out on you.

All the best,

John

What’s your reward for doing what you do? That was a question The Grasshopper posed this morning.

We do lots of “necessary” stuff in a day, a week, a year, a lifetime, but do we ever stop and consider the reward?

Is there one?

My guess is that if there wasn’t one, we would eventually find a way to stop doing what we do.

I invite heresy when I assert that Mother Teresa wasn’t entirely altruistic when doing her missionary work for a lifetime. There was a reward in there or she would have stopped doing it long before death stopped her.

Even selfless people get a reward.

Notice it’s easy to complain about what you do, but if you keep on doing it, there’s a likely reward that you’re overlooking.

With the advent of social media, it’s easy to read parents’ complaints about doing what they “have” to do. Rarely do I read about the reward they get for doing it.

We won’t stop complaining anytime soon, but it just may be worthwhile to balance our complaints by considering the rewards.

What’s your reward? If there isn’t one, my guess is, sooner or later, you’ll pursue something else that provides one.

My suggestion is to become a bounty hunter and find out what your reward is. It will tamper down the complaints long enough to have a rewarding experience.

All the best,

John

The Grasshopper was singing in the shower this morning and belted out this tune: “I Don’t Care is a Lonely Place to be.”

It dawned on me that the more things you don’t care about, the more isolated you become. The more isolated you become, the less you care about. It’s a downward spiral.

There is a priority to things we care about. For example, #3 on your list may be #497 on mine and vice-versa. But at least we have a list.

People who live the “I don’t care” mantra don’t have a visible list.

There is a new trend going on in Facebook-ville. You are “called out” by a friend or family member to post three things a day you are grateful for and do it for 5 days.

It’s really a focusing exercise to find out what you care about.

The practice forces you to come up with a list, and a byproduct of the exercise is reconnecting you to what you care about.

If you’re lonely, call yourself out and make a list of what you care about. It’s a catalyst that leads you to connection, leaving “list-less” isolation behind.

All the best,

John

The Grasshopper offered up a new definition this morning: “Evolving: When new thoughts come more often than judgements.”

I think it is helpful to notice there is a difference between discernment and judgement. My sense is that discernment is fact based; judgement is based on pre-judgement. Based on my definition, that makes judgement an old thought.

When we have a judgement, it’s nothing new, just an old judgement revisiting. We don’t learn anything new with a judgement.

A new thought comes in un-judged. There is no prejudgement to compare it to.

So how do we evolve to new thoughts vs. judgements?

Notice the difference.

When a thought pops in, take the time to notice whether it’s old or new. By doing so, you are putting your thought apparatus on notice that you’re paying attention to what it’s delivering.

Just by noticing the flavor of your thoughts, you set up a filter that makes old thoughts harder to get through. New thoughts are much faster and more porous than any filter can handle, so they just breeze on by, while the older, slower thoughts get stopped at the border.

Want to evolve? Start noticing your judgements.

All the best,

John

Just for the record, I’m not yet a believer in predestination, but I do believe there is a mold for us to grow into. Let’s call that mythical shape a “Star.”

I’m not sure we arrived on Earth to do some specific, predetermined thing, but I know for sure we can grow into something specific.

You can be a star at something. You just have to grow into that shape. One is waiting for you to put yourself into and take form.

It takes willingness and effort on your part but you can condition yourself to be a star.

Look to the night sky as an example. There are a zillion stars out there with room for zillions more. The universe sends you a message every night to join the club.

Grow into the mold that’s waiting for you.

You can choose your starring role. It takes more than wishing on a star to make it happen. You have to participate in your own stardom. That means to go to work on something that attracts you. It doesn’t have to be anything major, just something that has some gravitational pull. Reminds me of a story . . .

Some 30 years ago I was on vacation and watching a morning TV show. They had a guest on talking about pain management for childbirth using hypnosis. I was fascinated. I had read a few books on hypnosis and tried my hand at it on an amateur level, but nothing like what I had just seen. I was propelled forward by my interest to contact the producer of the TV show to get the name and contact information of their guest.

I made that call and this fellow told me his former business partner had moved back to Boston and was always looking for good people for his seminar business. I lived in Rhode Island, a stone’s throw away and called this man’s former partner and got an invite to come view his seminars.

I learned quite a bit from watching what he did and within a month, I was working part-time for him. I worked at this new found passion and stepped into a career mold that was waiting for me.

Was I destined to do this? I don’t think so. There were a number of molds out there waiting for me; this is just the one I chose to give effort to and grow into.

There is a star mold waiting for you. It doesn’t matter how young or old you are; it’s there waiting for you to make a concerted effort to pour yourself into it.

You can get moldy if you only think about it. When you take actual steps towards that mold, that’s when you start to take shape.

I’ll leave you with a guiding principle and the signature phrase of the late Casey Kasem, “Keep reaching for the stars.”

All the best,

John

“The price of admission is admission.” So said the brown-as-a-berry Grasshopper who must have been vacationing at a seaside resort these past couple of weeks.

I wondered what he meant.

You can’t get in if you don’t know you’re out came to mind. In where? Out of what?

What is it we need to admit? One answer that came to mind is that we can’t do it alone. Thinking that we’re an individual entity keeps us outside looking in. We are not included. That keeps us outside and feeling unloved.

In puts us in the same melting pot as everyone else.

As long as we can’t admit that we’re like everyone else, we will not be admitted and will feel an ever-present sense of exclusion.

If you have ever had the thought “No one cares about me,” you have not paid the price of admission, which is to admit that you’re just like everyone else.

An “excluder” lives in a world of differences. The more difference we can come up with, the more we remain outside.

Setting your differences aside is one step towards inclusion. We have enough innate differences without having to manufacture a litany of additional ones that make joining the human race a lot harder.

Everyone can afford the price of admission; it’s just a matter of noticing that, up until now, you’ve been unwilling to admit that you need to pay to get in.

All the best,

John