Three years ago, I started a brand-new career in writing. It was a 180 from forty years in finance. The change was made official by a short stack of shiny new business cards that said “Writer.” Excited about my new venture, I shared my news and plans with everybody I met. As the list of ‘informed people’ grew, I began to feel a greater duty for completion to them that I did to myself.  

But there was something even more powerful going on that I had not consciously intended at the time. Years earlier, I’d read a book with an intimidating title Psycho Cybernetics, by Dr. Maxwell Maltz. Published in 1960, his book changed the way psychologists, self-help authorities, athletic trainers, behavioral experts, and the rest of us understood the way our imagination works with our central nervous systems to accomplish great things.   

The first and most important step in Maltz’s process is to conceive an important goal as “already in existence,” either in actual or potential form. Sharing my goals with more people had the incremental effect of marketing my book ‘already in existence,’ even while it was a mere idea. 

Maltz says that our imagination is creative in all of us, not just poets and inventors. Scottish philosopher Dugold Stewart said “The faculty of imagination is the great spring of human activity, and the principal source of human improvement . . . Destroy this facility, and the condition of man will become as stationary as that of the brutes.” 

Maltz demonstrated that our brain and nervous system work together with our imagination as a “Success Mechanism” (SM), like a guided missile, to automatically to make corrections as needed to meet any goal we set before it. It works as follows:  

• Imagine a goal or target as “already in existence now,” either in actual or potential form.  
• Don’t be discouraged if the means to your solution are not readily apparent. The sub-conscious works automatically in the background to supply the necessary steps and resources for achieving the goals we set. It is tempting to interfere with the process by getting caught up in the how, before a goal is clearly established. But once the mental image of the goal is clearly established, the how comes to you in time.  For instance, I once used the technique to eliminate a nettlesome business debt. When the goal was imagined as real and embraced, creative ways of eliminating it began tumbling into my conscious mind. Progress in paying it off was remarkable, you could say automatic.  
• Don’t be afraid of mistakes or temporary failures. Your guided missile works on negative feedback, by going forward, making mistakes and immediately correcting course. 
• Skill learning is accomplished by trial and error, mentally correcting aim after errors, until a ‘successful’ motion, movement, or performance is achieved. After that, continued success is accomplished by forgetting past errors, and remembering successful responses, so they can be imitated continually. 
• Trust your Creative Mechanism to do much of the work automatically in the background without “jamming it” with too much conscious effort. “Let it” work rather than “make it” work. Maltz encourages. There’s a Creative Mechanism operating below the level of consciousness, so we cannot ‘know’ what is going on beneath the surface. Moreover, its nature is to operate spontaneously according to present need. There are no guarantees in advance. It comes into action as we act, and place demands on it by those actions.

“You must not wait to act until you have proof – you must act as if it is there, and it will come through,” says Maltz. He goes on to say, “Do not tolerate for a minute, the idea that you are prohibited from any achievement by the absence of in-born talent or ability. This is a lie of the grandest order, an excuse of the saddest kind.” Maxwell Maltz.

I’ve found that my creative process works best when I simply trust and assume it is working and be ready when the tide rushes in. Routines, places, and conditions are important, but they don’t guarantee results. When the creative tide ebbs, I leave specific mental notes, imaginings if you will, at the doorstep of my subconsciousness and let it work out the questions and problems. More times than not, the solutions are soon delivered in the shower, on a bike ride, even in conversation. It is truly amazing. We simply have to trust or act as though the goal is achieved, move forward to make it so, correcting for mistakes, and let our creative mechanism do the work to provide the solutions.

Maltz encourages, us saying, “in his infinite wisdom, God manufactured our self-image putty-like, so it remains malleable enough to work and rework throughout our entire lives. No one is ever too old, too jaded, too frightened, or too traumatized to wet the clay and begin remaking it as we imagine and desire.” 

Whatever your aspirations or goals, the means to achieve them are inside you. Write as though your book is already published, and soon, it will be. 

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This past Friday night, I attended a monthly poetry and prose reading at the History Museum of Carteret County. I was taken by a story read by Millie Sparks. It was a heartwarming and hilarious story about a Down-East six-year-old little girl named Cassidy. Millie graciously agreed to let me share it with you.

Millie Sparks lives in Davis, NC and works for the Carteret County Public Library System as the Programs and Outreach Coordinator. She has been married for the past 17 years to Destry Sparks, who proposed to her by putting her engagement ring in a McDonald’s apple pie box. Millie and Destry do not have children because they both are fond of Sunday afternoon naps and do not like to share their food. Millie took up writing at the age of eight. Today she writes both humorous fiction and serious essays about mental health. She has always found writing to be cathartic. Millie’s six-year-old fictional character, Cassidy, is based on her own experiences growing up in a Pentecostal Holiness Church. She is a Christian and loves Jesus, but she does cuss a little and has been known by her nieces and nephews to cheat at the card game, Uno.

You have the option of reading Millie’s story or listening to her wonderful style of telling. I strongly encourage listening.

“This Little Light”

by Millie Sparks

Used to, before I would go to sleep at night, Mama’d read to me out of this real big book ‘bout Jesus.  I liked to listen to my Mama talkin’ but I didn’t never know what she was talkin’ ‘bout ‘cause Jesus and them ‘postles sure did talk funny.  One time I asked my Mama who wrote that big book, and she told me it was The Word of God.

I said, “Let me see,” and she showed me the inside of that big book.  “It’s called The Word of God?”  and she said yes.  “But Mama, that book’s got whole lots of words in it.”  And I told her maybe she had it mixed up, and it was The Words of God, and then I made her count to ten with me, ‘cause my Mama was usually real smart, but she done forgot how to count that night.

After my Mama’d leave my room at night, I’d scream and holler and tell her that them monsters was goin’ to get me.  So for my birthday she bought me a red flashlight and told me to shine it in the dark corners of my room, and it’d make the monsters disappear.  And I told my Mama I didn’t know she knew magic and she just smiled and smiled.

Now, when I turn on my flashlight, I shine it on her picture ‘side my bed.  My daddy put it there and he said, “Don’t she look like an angel?”  And I told my daddy that I hain’t never seen no real live angel only the angel at church they put on top of the tree at Christmas and it had a head that’d pop off.  I asked my daddy if angels got heads that pop off like the one at church ‘cause I sure would like to see one if they do.  My daddy just puffed out some air like he had too much inside of him and then he kissed me and said, “Night, Pumpkin.”  And then I asked him if he would read to me ‘bout Jesus and the ‘postles and he said, “No, I don’t think so.  Not tonight.”  And left my room.

I’ve always gone to church for as long as I can remember, and one Sunday we sang This Little Light of Mine.  Ms. Dexter, my Sunday School teacher, made the primary class all hold candles and sing it so that we could practice for the Christmas pageant one more week away she said.  So I don’t know what that song was talkin’ ‘bout, but I was glad when it was over, and I got to blow out my candle because wax had started to roll onto my hand and it was very hot and hurt real bad.

After church, Ms. Dexter drove me home in her big blue car.  She had stinky hair that wouldn’t move and there were crinkly lines around her eyes that got even more skinny when she smiled.  She had a lot of cigarette butts in the ashtray of her car, and I thought probably Jesus might have been ridin’ with her, but I was pretty sure Jesus didn’t smoke and that Jesus wouldn’t like it if Ms. Dexter smoked.  An insurance salesman came to my house one time, and he couldn’t stop smokin’.  I kept lookin’ sideways at Ms. Dexter and wonderin’ if maybe she had let an insurance salesman ride with her.  My grandma says that insurance salesmen are the Devil, and I was kind of scared to be ridin’ in Ms. Dexter’s car right where the Devil had been sittin’.

While we was ridin’, Ms. Dexter asked me what did I think ‘bout maybe havin’ a new mommy someday, and I told her I already had a mommy and she sat beside my bed at night and made sure them monsters didn’t get me.

“Cassidy,” Ms. Dexter said, “how would Jesus feel about you lying?”

Then I asked Ms. Dexter how would Jesus feel ‘bout the Devil ridin’ right there in her car with her and she just kept lookin’ at me like she was mad and would tell my daddy I’d been bad so I got real quiet and didn’t say nothing else till we got to my house.

When I got home, my daddy was sittin’ at the kitchen table lookin’ a little sick.  I kept holdin’ my breath, afraid that Ms. Dexter might tell on me, but she just kept sayin’ stuff to my daddy like, “I’ll fix you something to eat.  Let me stay and clean for you—this place is a pigsty.”

Daddy just shook his head and patted Ms. Dexter’s arm and said, “Thanks for all you do, but we’re okay.”  Then Ms. Dexter just sighed real big and shook her head and left.

After she left me and Daddy sat down to eat Sunday dinner.  Daddy sure did eat a lot to not be feelin’ well.  When I get sick, I cain’t eat nothin’.  We ate peas and pork chops and slices of bread with lots of butter.  As we were eatin’ I kept wonderin’ how come Ms. Dexter kind of looked like those clowns my Aunt Sylvia always gives me for my birthday with all of that blue and red stuff on her face.  So I asked Daddy and he got real quiet.  He had some peas on a fork but the fork stopped just before it reached my daddy’s mouth, and he just gave me that look that my kindergarten teacher sometimes gives me when I won’t be quiet in class.

He said, “Young lady, go to your room and think about what you just said.  Would Jesus have liked what you said?  You can finish your lunch after you’ve thought on it a while.”

So I just got up and walked to my room but my bottom lip was shakin’ because I felt like I was goin’ to cry.  When I got to my room, I just kept staring down at those stupid ol’ white tights that Daddy makes me wear to church.  There was a big hole in them at my knees, and I kept pickin’ it to make it bigger.  I sure did wish Jesus was there.  I kept hopin’ he would walk through my door.  ‘Cause Ms. Dexter told us that in the Bible it says that Jesus don’t want nobody to lie.  And Ms. Dexter said it was in the book of Exit This.  So I went to my dresser to get my Bible, but I cain’t read much so I don’t know what that Bible said but I sure could count them words, but I got tired of sittin’ in my room countin’ words so I took my Bible and opened the door to my room.

I peeped ‘round the corner, and Daddy was talkin’ on the phone in the hall.  I knew he was talkin’ to Grandma, ‘cause she’s the only person he ever calls.  I walked out in the hall and showed him my Bible.

“Daddy?  Find the book of Exit This for me.  ‘Cause Ms. Dexter said in the book of Exit This that we ain’t sposed to lie.  And I won’t lyin’, Daddy.  Ms. Dexter does look like a clown.”

Daddy started to laugh and ruffle my hair.  He told my Grandma what I just said, and I could hear her laughin’ on the phone too.  I won’t sure what they were laughin’ at, but that usually means I’m out of trouble.

“Daddy?  Ms. Dexter wants me to hold a candle and let hot wax run down my hand, and that hurts.  Why can’t I hold my flashlight instead?”

Daddy kept holdin’ the phone to his ear and looked confused.

“What are you talking about, honey?”

“I got to be a little light in the Christmas pageant.  Why can’t I hold a flashlight?”

My Daddy just sighed and rubbed his forehead.  I think that I give him big headaches all the time.  He started talkin’ in the phone to my Grandma.

“Mama, can you call Paula for me and tell her that Cassidy wants to hold a flashlight instead of a candle in the Christmas pageant?  Yes, thanks.  She’s been coming on a little strong lately.  Yeah, it’s been almost a year, and I guess she thinks the mourning should be over.  No, Mama.  I’m not ready yet.  Thanks, again.  Good-bye.”

My daddy hung up the phone real fast before Grandma could finish talkin’.  My grandma can talk on and on forever.  She has the whitest teeth I ever seen.

I knew that “Paula” was Ms. Dexter’s ain’t-sposed-to-call-her-that name.  I got a whoopin’ one Sunday ‘cause my daddy said I don’t never listen.

The next Sunday night, I got to wear a pretty long white robe.  Everybody else was holdin’ those ol’ mean candles, but I got to carry a bright red flashlight like the colors of Christmas.  After we sang ‘bout our lights and the pageant was over, Ms. Dexter came over and started fixin’ my robe ‘cause it had got all wrinkly.  Her perfume made me feel sick and I thought I was goin’ to throw up.

“Ms. Dexter?”

“Yes, sugar?” she asked like she was ‘bout to give me a piece of candy.

“You need to stop wearin’ that stinky perfume.  Daddy was right.  You have been comin’ on too strong lately.”

Ms. Dexter looked like I might have hit her hard on her face.  She kind of screamed a little bit and then she went and found my daddy and I saw them arguing outside.  I went and got in our old red car and waited for Daddy to come drive us home.  When he finally got in, I thought about askin’ him if he needed to go to his room and think about what Jesus would have done ‘cause we ain’t sposed to argue with folks, but he looked like he might get mad at me so I just sat there real quiet.

We didn’t never go back to that church again.  We hain’t never been back to no church again.  But Daddy always makes sure that I gots lots of batteries so that my light for Jesus don’t never go out.

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The delight I felt in finishing Boys on the Edge after ten years of coaxing and two years’ writing was wonderful enough. However, the joy received since, from the warm reactions of friends and family, has totally eclipsed it. Your comments, reviews, reflections, and shared memories have touched me deeply and I want to thank you from the “bottom of all four chambers of my heart,” as my mom used to say.

Stories Knit Us Together

Running through all these conversations there’s been a common thread. Stories have an amazing power to bring us closer to one another. They reveal how similar we are, in hopes, dreams, and fears. Drawn in to a story, we find that we are more willing to accept our similarities than our differences. While life circumstances are as diverse as our unique personalities, we all want to be loved and included, we want to succeed in our aspirations and purposes, and we want to leave our part of the world better. If our lives are a book, even the shortest moments are elements of our larger story. A phrase as simple as how was your day provides an opportunity for us to share a happy, sad, or exciting short story, as part of the greater narrative of our grand story.

I’ve been amazed how your comments have revealed connections and relationships that I never knew existed. Many have opened doors to exciting new relationships. Comments have ranged from readers being reminded of a simpler place and time, how close adventure, joy, and agony were when we were 16, how amazing the music was then, and how anxious were the times.

Some have shared stories that I’ve never heard before. In some cases, stories they’d never shared with anyone else. Some passage in Boys urged or nudged them to weave in a part of their own story that relates us in ways they hadn’t realized before. Discoveries of relationships, common interests like music, activities, places, and events, and more than a few “I was there when you were,” or “I used to feel that way too.”

Stories reveal how much we have in common, but at their core, they have the unique ability of connecting our hearts. We can become dearer to one another by sharing our stories. As Eugene Peterson describes storytelling, “a kind of intimacy develops naturally when men and women walk and talk together, with no immediate agenda or assigned task except eventually getting to their destination and taking their time to do it.” [1]

One Story Compels Another, and Soon, You Have a New Friend

When writing Boys over the past couple of years, life continued, but differently. I was no longer running a company with its structured relationships and requisite conversations. I had to go out into my new coastal community to seek new relationships and conversations. One of the first questions asked by people was – ‘what do you do?’ To my total surprise and delight, each time I answered the question with something like – “I’m writing a memoir about growing up at Cape Lookout,” – my new acquaintance invariably and enthusiastically shared one or seven favorite stories of local lore from their personal experience, or that of a grandmother, cousin, or co-worker.

I marveled at how much closer and faster the bonds developed than any time in recent memory. The difference was that I was able to take the time for the one-on-one sharing of stories that make our hearts smile, glow with pride, and beat a little faster. I’ve learned that when we’re invited into someone’s story, we unwittingly lower our guard and set aside our superficial judgements, that we so reflexively make as humans. Instead, through story we quite naturally and casually incline ourselves to listen, to enter in, and fully experience what the other is sharing, so much so that their stories become part of our own. I believe I’ve shared every one I’ve heard over the last two years.

Who can resist the captivating invitation – let me tell you a story? And who can resist not sharing one or more of our own in response? In the back and forth of the telling, we realize how much we are enjoying the company of a person who moments earlier, may have been a total stranger. We hardly notice that the foundations of an enduring friendship are being laid.

[1] Peterson, E. (2008). Tell it Slant. Colorado Springs: Wm. B. Eerdmans.

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Some 80% of us report we are unhappy in our jobs. We find them dull, monotonous, even life-draining. Simon Sinek, in his book Start with Why: How Great Leaders Inspire Everyone to Take Action, shares a story of a pair of stone masons working mere feet from one another.

The first mason is asked, “Do you like your job?’ He looks up and replies – ‘I’ve been building this wall for as long as I can remember. The work is monotonous. I’m in the scorching hot sun all day. The stones are heavy and lifting them day after day is backbreaking. I’m not even sure if this project will be completed in my lifetime. But it’s a job. It pays the bills.'”

A few steps further, a second mason is asked the same question, “Do you like your job?’ He looks up and replies, ‘I love my job – I’m building a cathedral.  Sure, I’ve been working on this wall for as long as I can remember and yes, the work is sometimes monotonous. I work in the scorching hot sun all day. The stones are heavy and lifting them day after day is backbreaking. I’m not even sure if this project will be completed in my lifetime. But I’m building a cathedral.’”

Am I just ‘working in the hot scorching sun,’ or am I ‘building a cathedral?’

The answer to this profound question lies in whether or not we have discovered and are pursing our life’s purpose and passion – our why. Those who can answer yes have discovered a treasure that knows no scarcity. The 80% who are busy competing with others for the fleeting stuff of life can so easily miss the real, sustaining treasures that lie within each one of us – our purpose and the subsequent passion that inevitably follows when we pursue it. All that is required to cut the chains of life-draining work is some serious soul searching and practical observation.

When you discover your purpose you “find it’s something you’re tremendously passionate about,” says Steve Pavlina. You’ll find new energy and direction in life. Triumphs come more often, and hurdles become less formidable. Emerson said, “It is a fact often observed, that men have written good verses under the inspiration of passion – who cannot write well under other circumstances.” I can certainly testify to that statement.

However, as with anything, passion to excess is dangerous. Ben Franklin wisely counsels “If passion drives you, let reason hold the reins.” Few doubt the importance of good planning, but still, very few do it.

Jim Collins, in his landmark book “Good to Great,” sets out four stages to guide organizations from mere goodness to greatness. His principles are equally applicable to purpose-driven individuals.

STAGE 1: DISCIPLINED PEOPLE

Leaders are ambitious first and foremost for [their] cause, the organization, the work—not themselves—and they have the fierce resolve to do whatever it takes to make good on that ambition. A leader displays a paradoxical blend of personal humility and professional will.”

STAGE 2: DISCIPLINED THOUGHT

Confront the Brutal Facts—the Stockdale Paradox. Retain unwavering faith that you can and will prevail in the end, regardless of the difficulties, and at the same time have the discipline to confront the most brutal facts of your current reality, whatever they might be. It may take a financial belt-tightening to make the change, but if you have assessed well and aligned your skillset with your purpose, the triumphs will follow.

The Hedgehog Concept. Greatness comes about by a series of good decisions consistent with a simple, coherent concept—a “Hedgehog Concept.” The Hedgehog Concept is an operating model that reflects understanding of three intersecting circles: what you can be the best in the world at, what you are deeply passionate about, and what best drives your economic or resource engine.

STAGE 3: DISCIPLINED ACTION

Culture of Discipline. Disciplined people who engage in disciplined thought and who take disciplined action—operating with freedom within a framework of responsibilities—this is the cornerstone of a culture that creates greatness. In a culture of discipline, people do not have “jobs;” they have responsibilities.

The Flywheel. In building greatness, there is no single defining action, no grand program, no one killer innovation, no solitary lucky break, no miracle moment. Rather, the process resembles relentlessly pushing a giant heavy flywheel in one direction, turn upon turn, building momentum until a point of breakthrough, and beyond.

STAGE 4: BUILDING GREATNESS TO LAST

Preserve the Core and Stimulate Progress. Adherence to core values combined with a willingness to challenge and change everything except those core values—keeping clear the distinction between “what we stand for” (which should never change) and “how we do things” (which should never stop changing). Great [people] have a purpose—a reason for being (their why)—that goes far beyond just making money, and they translate this purpose into BHAGs (Big Hairy Audacious Goals) to stimulate progress.

Howard Thurman offers this wonderful challenge to us all: “Don’t ask yourself what the world needs; ask yourself what makes you come alive. And then go and do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” Go and build your cathedral!

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In the next few days, my new book, Boys on the Edge will be available for purchase on Amazon. I’m also excited to invite you to two new websites, BoysontheEdge.com and StoriesFromTheBanks.com in the next few days. The Boys site contains a rich pictorial and documentary history of Cape Lookout in the years leading up to the Cape Lookout National Seashore. You will be able to make dozens of discoveries for yourself, like – where the trees came from, see that shipwrecks used to be visible, and the lighthouse was hundreds of yards from the water.

The second site, Stories, is my personal website. I’ll use it to post blogs on a range of topics including what I’m currently working on, learning from my writing, and simply want to share. I’ll keep you updated on the progress of my next book too. Hope to make the posts both fun and informative.

Will be back to you soon with the good news, Sam    

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