Leveraging LinkedIn

Do you use LinkedIn effectively? If you are interested, I'm leading a workshop at Graylyn International Conference Center in Winston-Salem, NC on September 16th "Leveraging LinkedIn."

Details and Registration HERE.

A Poem about Renewal

Renewal

frozen limbs bound in fear

eyes too dry for anymore tears

my heart lies latent in my chest

hoping, longing for endless rest

where are the dreams of days gone by

was it all some cruel perverted lie

can i move from this coffin skin

will my iced soul ever live again?

pain within, pain without

too parched my voice to release a shout

all that moves in this locked cage

is the glimmer of fire known as rage

where are the dreams of days gone by

was it all some cruel perverted lie

can i move from this coffin skin

will my iced soul ever live again?

explosion within, shattering these bonds

screams of life, demanding a new dawn

i will live, this day again will be

found zeal for life for i've been freed

here are the dreams of today my friends

laughter and wonder as this drama ascends

playing a part, living again

freed for the journey, ever to begin

freed for the journey, freed for this quest

living again to discover the rest

Truth's guided quest, a path of delight

ever onward, strive for the light

here are the dreams of today my friends

laughter and wonder as this drama ascends

playing a part, living again

freed for the journey, ever to begin

Beneath Still Waters

placid ripples radiate

out from the stone's wake

it falls into silence

downward

from a nameless toss it came

flying in a moment

failing to break gravity's spell

downward

descending the abyss

parting waters of primeval ways

stirring the reservoir of rage

downward

what life lies beneath

what longings to be stirred

what hopes become reacquainted

down there

a small pebble settles on deepest sediment

nests into it's new dark home

and something, disturbed, moves

down there.

Clean Up #FF: Number 3 - Don't Forget the Day!

(see below for explanation)

Time got away from you and Saturday rolls around. As you check your mentions from the previous day, you notice a long list of #FF that came in during West Coast time. What to do? You think about RTs and Replies. Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! Resist. Don't do it! It isn't Friday. Stop.

Clean it Up! It is just confusing to see #FF tweets on Saturday and (heaven forbid but it is true) on Wednesday!  If you need to reply or mention those who mentioned you (not a bad thing as long as you follow #2 above), file it away until the next Friday. Perhaps go ahead and pre-schedule your #FF tweets for the future. Resist the urge to #FF tweet like there's no more Fridays.

So move along now my Clean Up #FF crew. The clock is ticking. Today is FRIDAY!  #FF

Thus ends the Clean Up #FF List of 3.

Note: Lately #FF has become a post fest... It's insanity tweeple. Can that many people really know and like that many tweeple? All at once? It just feels wrong, phony and bad. Bad tweeple. Bad.

What to do? Options abound.  So we shall have a list. We shall. Let's call it the Clean Up #FF List! It will be a list of 3 (I love talking in rhymes). I'll be posting a daily list of 3 #FF Clean up ideas. Please join me in my quest to clean up #FF!

Clean Up #FF: Number 1 - Don't be a #FF Pimp

Are you tweet pimping? How many people do you suggest for #FF? If the answer is in three digits, you're a PIMP! Yes, I'm name calling you. P-I-M-P! PIMP! And I don't mean that in any warm and affectionate hip-hop kind of way. Na sir.

Clean it up! Take a few moments and choose from among your follow list the newest, brightest or dearest. Then mention them one or two at a time. Then - here's the hard part - stop! Return to your regularly scheduled tweeting. That's right. toss off that fur coat and top hat and pimp no more.

NOTE: Lately #FF has become a post fest... It's insanity tweeple. Can that many people really know and like that many tweeple? All at once? It just feels wrong, phony and bad. Bad tweeple. Bad.

What to do? Options abound.  So we shall have a list. We shall. Let's call it the Clean Up #FF List! It will be a list of 3 (I love talking in rhymes). I'll be posting a daily list of 3 #FF Clean up ideas. Please join me in my quest to clean up #FF!

Clean Up #FF: Number 2 - Don't waste the Tweet

(see bottom of post for explanation)

Now you are selecting your #FF few and preparing to tweet. If you just in mention them by name and some generic line like - let's see - "Here's @WilliamsKim and you should #FF him" - although it rhymes beautifully (and come to think of it that might make it tweet worthy) it doesn't REALLY tell me why I should. You have all that extra space. We do get a whopping 140 characters to tweet, so don't waste the tweet.

Clean it up! This recommendation was actually given to me by @DHatfiled.  Tell me why I should follow someone. Give me a adjective or verb (you remember those. right?) to describe the tweetworthiness (ok. I made that one up) of your #FF mention. Go ahead. Be kind. You can do it.

Note: Lately #FF has become a post fest... It's insanity tweeple. Can that many people really know and like that many tweeple? All at once? It just feels wrong, phony and bad. Bad tweeple. Bad.

What to do? Options abound.  So we shall have a list. We shall. Let's call it the Clean Up #FF List! It will be a list of 3 (I love talking in rhymes). I'll be posting a daily list of 3 #FF Clean up ideas. Please join me in my quest to clean up #FF!

Can We Clean Up Follow Friday? Please.

If you are using Twitter then you know about Follow Friday (#FF). It is a bit of a tradition and one of the oldest practiced in the Twitterverse (Twitter talk for the stuff on Twitter).  Lately I've been less than a fan of the day. It boils down to my opinion about the manner in which some tweeps (that's Twitter talk for people who use Twitter) are practicing the tradition.

The idea originated from @Micah (according to Mashable) as a way of suggesting a couple of people to follow and soon spread rapidly. The intent is great. You suggest people you like to follow to me (and your other followers ) and we all do the same. The process is simple. You just include the hashtag #FF* (Twitter talk for using the # sign in front of a word of letters to tie it to a specific theme)  in your tweet and mention the people you would like others to check out. The timing is concise. You do this on Friday and on Friday only. Before and after #FF we are about our regularly scheduled tweeting. So, what's not to like?

Lately #FF has become a post fest. Many people are listing the maximum number of people in a single tweet with only the #FF hashtag. They do this not once or twice but incessantly as if going through their entire following. Several times I have visited an individual's tweet stream (more Twitter talk but I'm not explaining. Use your imagination) and seen nothing but a long list of hundreds of #FF posts packed with peoples user names and the hashtag. Then there are those who get crazy with the Retweets (RT is more Twitter talk. Buy Twitter for dummies if you are still lost) of their #FF mentions. Someone #FF with my user name and I RT it. Then someone else RTs it and I RT it again. Last Friday I saw so many #FF packed posts, I felt - well - dirty - as in "solicitation" dirty. ugh. 

It's insanity tweeple. Can that many people really know and like that many tweeple? All at once? It just feels wrong, phony and bad. Bad tweeple. Bad.

What to do? Options abound.  So we shall have a list. We shall. Let's call it the Clean Up #FF List! It will be a list of 3 (I love talking in rhymes). I'll be posting a daily list of 3 #FF Clean up ideas. Please join me in my quest to clean up #FF!

Tomorrow #1 - Don't be a #FF Pimp!

*Note: the original hashtag for Follow Friday was #FollowFriday, but it got shortened to #FF so the #FF pimps to get in more mentions (yes. I'm ranting).

On Hiking the Grand Canyon

I spent a few days hiking at the Grand Canyon a few years back. I penned these words from the experience.

These Walls

These walls, these cascading rocks of harden earth, earthen toned history revealing centuries of the never ending dance between water and stone, hold me in awe. Is not this chasm grand in span and even grander yet in spirit, for it calls not only for all that the body can give it while every muscle screams for relief and each sinew claims finality. This brilliant abyss wants for the release of more, the conquest of ones very being, the devouring of all spirit. Give to it this, this measure of your existence, all body and spirit and therein, perhaps therein, weary traveler of this land, you might just discover more of who you are, or more complete still, you and I may just become more, more complete, more wonder-full. These walls can caress the very earthen vessel of humanity and breathe again into us, a vital wisp of that delicate mixture of earth and water and their waltz through eternity.

Reflection on Imagination - Talons, Fist and Fur

My breath dances in and then out while I wait in the darkness of veiled eyes. Then it comes...

My meadow beneath me, again, welcomes me home. I raise my fist to the sky and he descends. I feel the familiar tearing of my flesh as he settles, talons slicing into my fist. With the agony, I welcome my ancient friend. Blood trails down my arm for a moment and as talon and flesh merge, I heal.

Breath in the darkness...

She strolls to my side, padding heavily upon the turf. She leans against my thigh. Lowering my free hand I find her -fur, thick. Kneeling, I wrap my arm around her and lower my face into hers, breathing deep her scent, scents of death, decay and blood. I so love her primitive cause.

Now we are one, us three. And there, hidden in darkness we know - I miss them when I cannot imagine.


NOTE: Do you value your dreams, your visions beyond reality? Do tell...

Local Bloggers to Gather to Support Ronald McDonald House

ATTENTION LOCAL BLOGGERS

Host: The Ronald McDonald House of Winston-Salem
Location: The Ronald McDonald House, 419 South Hawthorne Road, Winston-Salem, NC 27103
When: Saturday, September 11, 10:00AM to 11:30AM
Phone: 336-723-0228 x 38
Please join us and meet other Carolina Bloggers for breakfast & a tour of the new 17,000 sq. ft. expansion!

We are opening 18 more bedrooms to out-of-town families with sick children being treated at local hospitals.
Come tour our home away from home for families and spread the word about the Ronald McDonald House of Winston-Salem!



More Info Here : http://ow.ly/2oqEg

Are You Bum Material?

As I strive for self actualization

Demanding more of my mind, spirit and body each day

Determined to succeed, to claim yesterday’s distant horizon

As today’s dawn

It occurs to me that I might have it all wrong

What if these images of status and position

That haunt my mind each evening are self contrived

And the resistance that pushes me backward

Each hard fought day is prophetic

What if my truth is that

This world simply needs another bum?

What if that bum should be me...

[Pausing to consider. considering. seriously considering...]

nope.

Getting Down Uptown

We are fortunate that our city has multiple outdoor music events uptown during the summer months. Last weekend my wife and I attended one of the Summer on Trade events. We had a good time, but the little guy below was hands-down having the best time of us all.

5 Lessons My Father Taught Me From the Dead - Number 5

My father died in 1964. I was 6 years old. Even though most of my life has been lived in his absence, his life has taught valuable lessons. This 5 part blog series is about those lessons.

5. We all have a life to live - Live It!

Shortly after my mother and father met he told her that he would not live past 36. Strange thing was there was no physical illness or history of family disease to indicate that he would be right. Yet, he was insistent that he knew he would not live past 36. He told my mother this and she believed him. They decided to live life together anyway - until death do we part.

In the 13 years that they had together - they laughed, learned, and enjoyed life. They parented three children and set the stage for their future. They would often forget the ticking of time but for my father's occasional reminders.  He was gentle with his belief, but serious.

In June of 1964 at the age of 36, my father had a massive heart attack and died. He left behind more than his widow and three children. He left behind a life powerfully and well lived that has inspired us to live with death in sight. Life should be lovingly and joyfully lived each day.

5 Lessons My Father Taught Me From the Dead - Number 4

My father died in 1964. I was 6 years old. Even though most of my life has been lived in his absence, his life has taught valuable lessons. This 5 part blog series is about those lessons.

4. Be Playfully Mischievous

I'm not sure I can illustrate this lesson clearly, but here goes. It is more the way my mother tells the story than the facts of the story that tell the tale.  My mother is not and never has been a morning person. She does well to drag herself out of bed and make a pot of coffee. Somewhere between the first and second pot, she will become somewhat awake and mildly social. She would sit, head in hand at the kitchen table - internally fighting her way into the day. My dad would always offer a cheerful "Morning Lib!" and lean over and give her a kiss. She would fain a greeting and turn back to her coffee. There was however a wickedly playful side to my father for at some random and totally unpredictable occasions he would lean over to kiss my mother and instead, playfully tap her under her breast. This always startled her and - as she would tell it even today - cause her to be aggravated to the point of amusement.

I believe it was the impish intent of his actions that always charmed her. Void of any ill, he was often playfully mischievous. He kept all of us one our toes and smiling. 

5 Lessons My Father Taught Me From the Dead - Number 3

My father died in 1964. I was 6 years old. Even though most of my life has been lived in his absence, his life has taught valuable lessons. This 5 part blog series is about those lessons.

3. You need some regular time alone.

My father dug a hole under the house, poured some concrete and laid a few concrete blocks to create a workshop for himself. It was his place and we were not often allowed. I'm sure this was partly because of the many pieces and parts (see #1 below) too valuable and/or dangerous for children's hands. As time has passed, I came to know that this was also his place of solitude. When dad went down to his shop we didn't bother him. He would return soon enough and he always seemed happier than when he left.

This was his place of working it out. It was his time alone creating, repairing, and fixing things that refueled him. I think we all need that time away. I know I do.

5 Lessons My Father Taught Me From the Dead - Number 2

My father died in 1964. I was 6 years old. Even though most of my life has been lived in his absence, his life has taught valuable lessons. This 5 part blog series is about those lessons.

2. Profanity is a sign of a limited vocabulary

My father, reportedly, never swore. My mother claims she can count on 2 fingers (i think that means twice) the number of times he used profanity.

In a moment of frustration, my mother uttered the "S*#!" word to which he calmly replied, "Lib, you've got something in your mouth I wouldn't want on the bottom of my shoe." My mother and my father encouraged me to learn new and exciting words to express myself. To this day I marvel the power and expanse of words.

Dictionary.com has an iPhone app that delivers a "word of the day" to my phone.  Why, just this week I had the good fortune of having the word "spatchcock" taught to me. Finding ways to properly spatchcock new and unusual words into my daily speech sure beats the "H#&^" out of profanity. :)

5 Lessons My Father Taught Me From the Dead - Number 1.

My father died in 1964. I was 6 years old. Even though most of my life has been lived in his absence, his life has taught valuable lessons. This 5 part blog series is about those lessons.

1. You can learn from taking things apart. 

My dad was a tinkerer. Because he rebuilt and repaired watches for a living, he was accustomed to dealing with pieces and parts of things.  He was always taking things apart and sometimes reassembling them to repair them. Sometimes, they just remained in pieces in his workshop.

As I grew I was encouraged by the memories and stories of my dad's repairs and fixes to take things apart. Radios, TVs, Hair Dryers (the kind with the plastic cap), door knobs, toys - nothing was safe around me. I learned from those disassemblies and often would bring broken things home just to dissect them and learn. Sometimes I could make a good something out of two broken somethings. Through this process I learned to be quite handy. I enjoy fixing things.

My philosophy is that if it has screws - it was meant to come apart. Go ahead. Take it apart. What's the worst thing that could happen and I promise you, you will learn something.

Roadway Epiphany

[NOTE: I've not shared this piece here before, but it isn't new. Enjoy.]


Introduction

I stood in the gallery, surprised. The new Rural Life photo contest had caused me to leave my normally secluded life and travel to Charlotte to view the collection of photography from across the state. I had been enjoying the various landscapes, pictures of freckled faced, overall clad youths and studies on various farm-life objects: plows, daisies growing in tin pots, wagon wheel sentinels on dirt drives. Then there it was; a black and white photograph of a too familiar road, that road. That road, eternally dark and damp, always leading out of town to the same house, the same now seldom remembered history. The story is all but gone as are those who where there, but I, I alone drift back again tonight, to a time before I knew of malformed creatures and a darkness so completely void of light that it could seized your spirit in terror, a time when I was waiting beside that road.

Chapter 1

Evan strained with the tire iron, once more, trying to loosen that last lug nut. The muscles on his back burned, he felt a spasm grab between his shoulders, as the sweat dripped from my brow onto his hands. The iron slipped and he bashed his knuckles on the rim, again.

"Damn it! " he cursed under his breath, dropping the tool and standing, shaking his hand. He checked to make sure he wasn’t bleeding...a little drop hung on his knuckle. "Shit. That hurts," he mumbled to himself.

"How do I do these things?" he thought. He stood, the left front tire, flat and torn. One final lug nut remained immovable, between him and the installation of a perfectly good spare

"Gentle now. Breathe man. “Just calm down,” he told himself.

His frustration turned to internal condemnation. "This road. Nobody drives this old road. It goes nowhere. Well, I guess it goes somewhere, or at least did, but, in the last two years of living in this county, I’ve never been down this road. So, why today? Why today do I decide to let my mind wander, clear my head with a drive?"

"Simple. Kelly. I can see the words from her note. They followed all sorts of comments about growing a part...traveling different journeys...yada, yada....then there they were in her own characteristic simple, wonderful, lovely, elegant hand...'so, I’ve decided that the country is not for me at this point in my life, and since you need the space, I’ll not crowd you with my needs. Goodbye.'"

Evans mind started to swim just remembering those words. "Crowd you with my needs," what the hell does that mean? Women!" he shouted to the empty road.

The old truck turned the bend in the road, back toward town where he had come from. "Finally," he sighed in relief. He brushed the dirt from his jeans, grabbed his shirt off of the roof of his old Sebring, made a metal note to get the thing painted soon, and pulled on his shirt on over his chest, just as that rusted old hunk of junk-truck slowed and stopped by him. Evan leaned in the passenger window as the driver asked; "flat?" The voice was as thick as he had heard leaden with a southern twang that almost hurt to hear. The face from which it came had a toothless, unshaven, floppy eared crooked eyed look that made him think of one word, "Deliverance."

"Wanna ride wid me," the driver asked as he grinned and revealed his green teeth?

"I'm ok," Evan lied, "just about finished changing the tire. Thanks anyway."

"Hum,” he grunted, in what was certainly some sort of hick code for disappointment and off he drove. Evan stood and watched as he passed around the bend, and felt relief that he had avoided the world of deliverance, today.

He turn to face his car, again, and reality set in. He was still stranded and the only hope of “deliverance” just drove away, without him. It was getting well into the afternoon, and the only option he could figure was walking. He gathered a few things from the car and decided to hoof it back the 20+ miles. Stiffing his well worn red canvas backpack with a half full bottle of Aquafina, he pulled his ball cap out and flapped it on his head. Turning back to the car, he grabbed an old jacket, watch, and keys from the driver’s seat, tossed them in the pack, zipped it up, and with a click of the key remote, locked the Sebring and began the walk toward town.

The sun was instantly warmer than he'd like, building its heat on his neck and back. Flipping the bill of his cap backwards to shield his neck Evan walked toward town and soon found a rhythm to his stride and room to think. His mind went back to Kelly. Last week...