My path in life is to help thinkers use technology to become thought leaders. One of the best things about this path is that I can do it from anywhere! I choose to live in Algoma Wisconsin on the shores of Lake Michigan about 30 miles east of Green Bay and every day on my grueling 3.3 mile commute I get to pass by the lake and admire the view. This morning’s sunrise was particularly spectacular! Inspiration like this gets my juices flowing so I can do better creative work for my clients. How can I help you?
I don’t know why…
I really need to do this more often… Updated!
Father’s Day Without My Dad
An atypical — but powerful — Father’s Day story with a lesson from Rhonda Britten:
The last time I saw my dad was on Father’s Day in 1975. It was rainy and cold much like most June days in the U.P., short for Upper Peninsula. I grew up in the part of Michigan that looks like the mouth of the wolf. The wolf being Lake Superior. The mouth being the Keweenaw Peninsula, or the Copper Country.
It’s a little-known fact that more millionaires were made during the copper rush of the U.P. than the gold rush in California. But I digress — as I tend to do when I am talking about my father.
You see, the last time I saw my father, he had a rifle in his hand and he was raging at my mother, bullets flying. When all was said and done, both my parents lay dead by my father’s hand and I was the only witness, the one left standing.
Most people assume I hate my father. Or worse, that I am glad he’s dead. I feel neither.
You see, I have forgiven him for that horrid act and that forgiveness has softened my heart and turned into love. Yes, I love my father.
He has taught me more about love than anyone, because he has taught me everything about fear.
The first thing you read when you crack open my book, Fearless Living, is this:
Fear is a killer.
It kills hopes.
It kills dreams.
It kills careers.
It kills relationships.
In a flash, it killed my parents.
It almost killed me.
How is it killing you?
I know this because of my father. He killed because he was afraid of the emotions he couldn’t control. He stewed when he was hurt. He blamed and attacked when there was an inkling of embarrassment or shame. Humiliation? He’d rather die.
After my mother’s announcement that she was leaving him after enduring his jealous rages, infidelities and abuse for over two decades — they were buried on what would have been their 20th wedding anniversary — he put two bullet holes into her while repeating over and over again, “This is your fault. You made me do this. This is your fault.” He was a victim until the bitter end.
My father killed (and died) because he was afraid. Afraid to lose, afraid to feel, afraid to be human.
This is why fear has become my specialty, my obsession. I am not going to let fear decide my life, my future, my fate. It isn’t going to tell me what to do, or convince me to blame the ones I love how wrong they are, or suck one ounce of passion out of me. No siree.
I was a witness to the horror of a life lived in fear.
But fear is so subtle, so seductive, so invisible, I have had to learn all of its tricks to stop myself from following the easy path of a fear-driven life. That’s what I have done for the past decade plus. I have devoted my life to understanding how fear works, learning how to process it in a healthy, loving way and master it so I can live the life my father was afraid to.
So here I stand. A daughter of a murderer. A daughter of a man who lived in fear. A daughter of a man who taught her how to love.
My father lived in fear and died in fear. I’m not going to do the same. I choose love. I know he’d be proud.” via Rhonda Britten: Father’s Day Without My Dad.
Before I moved to Wisconsin, there were two times in my life that I witnessed a sunrise; once in Montauk, NY and once in Newport, RI. There are few things in life [for me, anyway] than witnessing a sunrise from total darkness to a glorious sun over the water. Now that I live in Algoma, I can have that pleasure every day if I like. Althought Lake Michigan doesn’t have the same salt tang as the Atlantic, the sunrises are every bit as beautiful and no one does a better job of bringing them to you than Bill Pevlor at Pops Digital…
Algoma or Atlantic?
Hmmm. Seems like the windspeed should actually be higher looking at these photos, but apparently it only takes a 22mph wind to make Lake Michigan look like the Atlantic…
Here I am experimenting with two different ways of viewing pictures in WordPress…
Clicking an image below will pull up a nice photo gallery. Both are great native features in WordPress.com!
Lake Michigan ride…
Just another beautiful view as my wife and I took a bike ride in our neighborhood…
Taken with picplz.
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