Transformational Change Institute

One thing I learned from my father was "be yourself". He never said it. He did it. And there is no better example of this than his love for Studebakers. The quirky Studebaker was made from 1902 to 1967, and my dad's first Studebaker was the 1962 powder blue Lark that my mother drove. He fell so in love with it that eventually there were Studebakers everywhere. At one point, there were 15 or more of them in various states of disrepair parked all over our suburban yard. As a style-concious teenager, I was horrified. Today, I am ecstatic that I had someone to model following my desires without caring what other people think. To my father, rebuilding those flathead six engines long into the night was “the work”. I still remember the sweet smell of brake fluid and the ozone and whir of the electric drill as my father polished the pits out of wheel cylinders.

Andrew and I are taking a break from painting. With our easels set up on the sidewalk, we're sitting on a bench looking out at the ocean north of the lighthouse in Santa Cruz. This morning, the ocean started out a beautiful pale sage green, and now, around noon, it's an emerald color with purple highlights. Just a few moments ago, a man walked up to us and said, "Hey, can I give you an easel?" Turns out, he'd seen us painting here on the cliffs for a while and he'd bought the expensive easel for his daughter who never used it. A few minutes later a woman walked up and asked if she could buy one of my paintings. It's been a wonderful morning, and I feel so blessed.

I have a friend who frequently yells at drivers in other cars, honks the horn and generally gets into a pretty stressful state when he drives. If you are like this, and think “it’s just the way I am”, I’m going to show you where you actually have choices in a stressful situation like this. 
A Tricycle we’re on all the time
There's a cycle that happens so often and so fast inside you that you might not realize it’s happening at all. The truth is, this tri-cycle is happening all the time, and it has three steps: Experience, State, and Action. Most of us aren't aware of it because it has been driven underground into our unconscious minds.
How does it happen that we aren’t aware of many choices we have? How can it be that we’re so unaware of things? Think of when you learned to drive a car, or ride a bicycle. When you were first learning to do these things, you were very aware of everything you did. Feet on the pedals in a certain order, steering, correcting the wheel or handlebars after a turn. An error could cause injury. Now think if someone had asked you to turn on the radio at the same time. What a ridiculous idea. Like most people you probably no longer give a great deal of conscious thought to driving or riding a bike. Some people even drive to work asleep. I knew a man who drove into the back of another car because it was parked in his space in the parking lot at work.

How can you tell when you are burning out, and what can you do about it once you know? You might be able to tell whether you are burning out or just under stress by doing a simple test. Ask yourself if it seems like it's too

I've been talking to a lot of people about failure recently. Sometimes it's hard to see failure as a good thing, but it's actually required for growth. Think about the term "trial and error". Trial and error is just a nice way of saying "make small failures till you get it right." Think about how you learned anything. Standing, for example. When you were very young, you probably pulled yourself up toward something, maybe a small table. Then you fell. You tried it again. You fell again, but this time you fell in a different direction. Maybe to the left, or to the back, or to the right. Each time you fell, you were learning how to catch yourself, to keep from being hurt. Sometimes you did get hurt, but not too bad.

Anything you do from riding a bike to learning calculus is done this way: Make small errors till you get it right. That's how you learn the task.