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understanding

Today, I happened to glance over at four women sitting at a table on the patio of a sidewalk café. They appeared to know each other well. They spoke casually as they began perusing their menus.

Jauntily approaching their table was the waitress, stepping out of the café. She asked if they’d like something to drink. Each of the women stopped momentarily to consider the waitress’ question, but before any of the other women answered and without consulting the other three the fourth woman, without looking up at the waitress, haughtily replied “You can bring us all waters, for now.” She then proceeded to begin telling the rest of the table what she thought looked interesting on the menu, essentially “dismissing” the waitress.

Wow…..I must say, I was flabbergasted by this woman’s callousness. I was also struck by her comfortable willingness to completely invalidate the relevance of another human being. Additionally, she was doing this to a person who was graciously “serving” her.

I, in my time, have worked in many diverse of occupations. My career has been a fascinating and constantly winding path for me, always rich and full of diversity. I don’t like to sit in sameness for too long.
However, one of the professions I have never explored is being wait staff.

Yet, while I have never been a server or a waitress I have ever been aware of how much I admire the work they do and the occupational hazards they face, as today’s view was reminding me.

Their profession is a complex and intricate one. It is one requiring infinite patience to be well done.

The best waiters and waitresses I have watched are some of greatest managers of human behavior I have ever observed.

Food and drink can only carry an establishment so far. If people don’t feel appreciated or well tended to by the wait personnel they will not keep coming back.

Yet that delicate balance of humanness has two sides and there are humans on both sides.

The person who serves you is the person who you serve.

I do not mean to confuse you.
Allow me to explain.

Not one of us came here greater than any other one of us.

Not one of us, because of
where we live,
how much money we make,
what we own
where we go to school,
what we do,
how we worship,
what we play,
where we work,
what we drive,
who we’re married to,
how many degrees we have,
what clubs we belong to,
how many pairs of shoes are in our closet,
what we drink,
who we know
is greater than any other one of us.

Not one of us came here greater than any other one of us.

The person who is serving you is committing their energy to your comfort.
They are attending to your needs. They are being kind to you.

They deserve our consideration.
They deserve our respect.
They deserve our appreciation.

Often they will they will tell you their name. Try to catch it. Then try to use it in a caring way when you’re speaking to that waiter or waitress. You know what I mean; it’s nice when people remember our names. It acknowledges that they recognize us. We humans like being recognized in caring ways, no matter what our profession is.

Many CEO’s the world over count experiences when they were wait staff, in their youth, as priceless learning opportunities. Some of the most valuable times being when those whom they were serving treated the errors, the youthful CEO-to-be made, with kindness or generosity. They report those situations provided them with powerful lessons in benevolence. In addition, numerous Fortune 500 executives have noted they hire, in high regard, the person who treats the wait staff as highly regarded. Moreover, they do not give a second thought to the candidate who does not give the wait staff a second thought.

Many of these executive’s also report that their final decisions about whether to trust signing onto a multi-billion dollar business deal can hinge on their observations of how pleasant and considerate the other CEO is their exchanges with the wait personnel. This demonstrates to them the open-mindedness, fairness and collaborative energy the other Chief Executive brings to the table.

We have a great amount to learn from one another,
perhaps, almost as much as we have to teach one another.

But first, we must begin by valuing each other.

Whom you serve is the person who serves you.

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The Calling

by Brooke Leigh Sheldon on October 13, 2009

The three of us wander aimlessly along the path next to Mission Creek in San Luis Obispo. Surrounded by the gracefully clumsy sounds of tumbling water and the flutter of October’s cool easy breeze ruffling leaves beside me, we amble.
Smiling, I silently remind myself “if I don’t look where I’m going I’m gonna fall on my face”.

We lope across the creek on a set of strategically laid boulders. Conversation is non-stop. The talk between us is fluid, expanding like water between glass.

We stop. I stand. I take it all in. My eyes drink the blue of a fall sky in early afternoon. Above me to the right, people pass on the bridge. The clumpy, thump, clump of each person’s passage echoes within the hollowed trestle of wood and stone. I love that sound.

Suddenly, I’m caught.

A voice is singing. I’m listening. He captivates me.

The depth of his crusty, aged understanding of the poetry he winds fascinates me.

His first song runs through me. The next song flies by me. Then, the song after that hovers all around me. He’s calling. And it’s as if he’s pulling me up the path with each collection of notes he strings together.

“C’mon!” I say to my companions, “I feel compelled to check out this singer.”

Off I am striding to discover the wizened troubadour of mystery who had locked my interest in his lyrical refrains.

I’m tracking the acoustic guitar’s picks and strums, all the while loving the unusual rendition of a song I don’t get to hear often enough, as I hunt my destination. Behind a brick wall atop the path, I round the corner and there he is….

Huh,……

He’s wearing a black golf cap, black shirt and a pair of black of shorts. His shorn hair is white blonde. He’s maybe… what? Twenty-six years old!

He has a smile that speaks tomes about his love of tune and desire to please. He is sweet. He is touchingly vulnerable. The fixed image I had in my head, while down below, of what this balladeer was going to look like made me have to laugh inside, at myself.

He finishes playing that song I know so well.
His vision of it is tender. His voice slips easily into the creases of unresolved hurt and sorrow that this specific love song defines.

He sits on a tall stool on a patio stage facing twenty or so tables filled with a rambling collection of people. Many sit chatting with each other, some are working, while others read or eat. One intriguing woman places her small dog on top of the table and proceeds to converse with it at great length, as she grooms and hand feeds it.

But, all the people, at every table, choose to ignore the gracious songster before them, song after song.

He covers familiar songs. He sings original songs of his own penning. It does not matter. They do not care. They cannot spare the time, the attention, the courtesy, or the kindness to glance his way. Nor can they be bothered to place their hands together to offer him the simple appreciation of applause.

So, the three of us sit listening to a kindly street artiste, deserving of more respect than he is accorded.

And in the halcyon weather along the path next to Mission Creek in San Luis Obispo we drink in the richness of fine song. And we look our minstrel in the eye, we smile at him and we applaud his songs, his talent and his courage.

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I am not Catholic.

Father Damien

Father Damien

Yet I recognize the tremendous honor Pope Benedict XVI bestowed upon Father Damien De Veuster. Catholics
everywhere now recognize Father Damien, canonized on October 11, 2009, as a saint.

But, I am one who has already spent much of my life inspired by the life and work of Father Damien.

If you are unfamiliar with the work of Father Damien, then I am honored to be the one to introduce you to this fine and noble man. He was born in 1840 in Belgium. Growing up he chose a religious life, eventually becoming a Roman Catholic

priest. While offering his energy in service to others he longed to travel and see other lands. Twists of life brought him to the Hawaiian Islands where the scourge of Hansen’s disease, more commonly known as leprosy, was ravaging the native population of the beautiful island chain.

This was a time of increasing global movement. Indigenous people throughout the globe lacked immunity to diseases existent in other parts of the world. They suffered devastatingly high death rates as sailing crews, travelers and traders inadvertently introduced numerous infectious diseases to these previously isolated populations. The Native Hawaiians suffered a similar, tortured fate. Leprosy was one, but the list of diseases included syphilis, influenza, smallpox, even measles, which in the decade of the 1850’s alone killed a full 20% of all the Hawaiian people living on the islands.

But leprosy was different. Today we know a bacterium, treatable with medication, transmits Hansen’s disease. Historically, however, it was not only untreatable, but misunderstanding also caused it to reek with connotations of a “cursed soul” or implications of “a punishment for sin”. The disease was interpreted as a divine judgment cast upon those who required extreme penance by bodily mortification.

Mind you, these were not the views of one single religion or culture. They were perceptions the world over and were, no doubt, born of the quite human tendency to vilify the things we fear. People so feared the severe physiological disfigurements of advanced leprosy that even tiny children with the disease were shunned and stigmatized, perceived as ill of spirit as much as body.

Father Damien saw otherwise.
Father Damien saw other.
Father Damien saw wise.

Hawaiian King Kamehameha V, confronting a public health crisis paramount in its proportions, created a government-funded medical quarantine on the island of Molokai to stem the continuing advance of the disease on the island chain. He assigned the area of Kalaupapa on Molokai to become the point of relocation. Kalaupapa is surrounded on three sides by the Pacific Ocean and cut off from the rest of Molokai by 1600-foot sea cliffs.

Father Damien stepped on the shore of Molokai seven years after its establishment as a “leper colony”.
But Father Damien did not manage Molokai as an isolation ward nor did he view its citizenry as less than.

At the time of his arrival in 1873, the isolated shoreline of the relocation colony had fallen into lawlessness. Damien took it upon himself to begin enforcing basic rules of law. It was an extremely dangerous, but necessary task. Coming to Molokai with the intention to minister to the ill and dying, Damien found and became the truth of himself.

Father Damien

Portrait of Father Damien, attributed to Edward Clifford, 1868, Honolulu Academy of Arts

He dressed ulcerated lesions, built furniture, negotiated disagreements between residents, erected schools. He constructed coffins and houses, dug farm furrows and graves, created sports teams and musical bands. Father Damien created a community.

Where people had resigned themselves to extinction, he generated a desire to live.
Where hope had been abandoned, he instilled quality of life.
Where a waiting room for death had stood, he built a society.

In 1884 Father Damien recognized he had contracted leprosy.

The remaining four and half years of his life were a race to complete the projects of importance to him and the community he had dedicated his service to.

Father Damien was an evocation of true humanity.

Father Damien made his moments count.

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A Leader ?

by Brooke Leigh Sheldon on October 1, 2009

Are you a “Leader”?
I don’t ask you the question as a challenge.
I don’t ask you the question as an insight.

I’m simply asking you a question.
And, I don’t know whether or not you have your own answer.

But, I will ask you to consider my question with honesty.

If you are a “Leader” you are tremendously necessary to this world of ours.
We are a gifted and an empowered planet.
We need leaders.

We need conscientious and informed debate and problem solving.

The answer to my initial question will be “no”, for many of you.

To those of you who in pride or in hesitation choose “no” as the most honest answer to that question allow me to hand you an observation to twirl around in the elegant light of your consciousness.

Your current truth of yourself may be changed by an act that moves you,
an idea that motivates you,
a horror that challenges you,
an adventure that educates you,
a crisis that alters you,
a milestone that compels you,
a phenomenon that excites you,
an emergency that galvanizes you,
a life that inspires you,
or,
a love that defines you.

I am not attempting, in anyway, to deny your understanding or belief in your “self” or your concept of your “self”. My point is simply, our life redefines us in ways we never expect. When this happens — we change. It is as if the energy swirling within us and around us marshals forces of movement, impelling us to engage capabilities, skills, powers and understanding seemingly greater and/or more directed than we’ve retrieved before.

And I offer you this additional thought. Trust the change.

But, until it comes, if it ever comes….. I ask you to be the leader of that, which by its very definition, ONLY you can be the leader of – your INTEGRITY.

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57 Cents

by Brooke Leigh Sheldon on September 21, 2009

57 Cents

September 21, 2009

What do you have to give? Are you holding back because you think you can’t do enough?

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Are you LISTENING ????

August 18, 2009

Are you LISTENING ????
August 18, 2009

Most moments are about a point of view. The person sharing the moment is as important as we are. We cannot control another’s point of view, but we can choose to be open, to listen, to hear, to learn.

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