I’m tired. It’s early, and I awoke this morning in spite of wishing for more sleep. It’s rare that I wake up tired; today I’m still fatigued after driving about seven hours yesterday. But I was returning to the lake, my muse, the most cherished place in my life, after a few days of stark contrast in the Boston area to provide my son with the educational opportunity of a lifetime: the Congress of Future Scientists and Technology Leaders. It’s an annual event, by invitation only to 7,000 kids from across our land, to get access to and opinions from the great minds of our world. I was pleased to be a fly on the wall and a VIP guest, and pleased to give my son a chance to hang with the luminaries of science.

Objecting to the Move

Though this lake has become my inspiration as an artist, a place where we can spend our summers to reconnect as a family, and a place to reconnect with nature, it didn’t start out that way. In fact, I didn’t want to be here.

Thirty years ago, my father told my brothers and I that he was selling his summer home on Lake Wawasee in Indiana and moving to a lake like the one in the movie On Golden Pond, but lacking JetSkis and rumbling racing boats. I was not thrilled. We were the third generation on that lake, which had memories of ice fishing with my grandfather, summers with friends, learning to drive a boat, and feeling freedom for the first time.

Seeking Quiet

I also didn’t like his reason for leaving, which was that our lake had become noisy, busy, and crazy. It struck me as a retirement mentality, and at the time I was in my 30s and loved the buzz of the lake. Quiet was not on my radar.

I was resistant to visiting the new place in this park they call the Adirondacks, which turned out to be miles and miles of preserved beauty, larger than Yellowstone, Everglades, Glacier, and Grand Canyon National Parks combined, and equally stunning.

Where’s My Noise?

Upon arrival, I thought it was too quiet. In fact, it was so quiet that it made me uncomfortable. Nothing but beauty, chirping birds, loons crying out their eerie calls, and no boat noise to speak of. The 100-year-old house had no television, was remote enough to have no radio signals (a tough thing because I was in the radio industry), and no noise-making gadgets other than the cassette player in the car. Oh, and there was a piano.

I was put off about being stuck in the middle of the woods, inhaling the fresh air laced with pine scent. Leaving early was on my mind because being stuck here for a week, as planned, did not fit my idea of a good time. I missed the lake of my home. This one didn’t seem like it was going to be much fun. It was too far away for my friends to visit. It was not the bustling activity I was used to.

I was an activity junkie and I needed a fix, but there was no fix to be had. If only I could return to the city, to the noise.

Waking Up to Dead Silence

I recall waking on day two in a deafening silence. Though it was mid-August, as I popped out of bed and looked out the window of the bedroom in the old boathouse overlooking the lake, the water was still. The island and the mountain in the distance had been blanketed with a sheet of snow that clung to the needles of the pines, weighting their branches.

Snow was a foreign substance to me — something I’d not been around since I left Indiana at age 17 to spend my winters in Florida. My first reaction was to crawl back into bed, pull the covers over my head, and try to sulk myself back to sleep about this unfortunate event. But something got into me that day. I put on my warmest clothes — I had very few warm clothes for my summertime visit — grabbed my camera, hopped in the Jeep, and drove around the area taking pictures of the snow. Mine were the only tracks that morning, mine the lone car on the surrounding country roads. Then I jumped in the boat and photographed the snow from the lake.

I never knew such silence. Snow covering the world, absorbing all noise, creating the most quiet I had ever known. It was magical.

Several years of Christmas card photos came out of that day, but that wasn’t the best part. It was the day I transformed from needing constant stimulation and the noise of life to craving silence. Suddenly and unintentionally, I gained an appreciation for the silence of this lake.

My New Muse

As an artist, the Adirondacks became my muse. I became enthralled by the distant blue mountains, the depth of the forests, the 200 shades of green, the brooks babbling through rocks inside the forest, the massive waterfalls from high peaks.

Decades of photography consumed me in this place before I graduated to painting, and the mountain view from our place has become the challenge I’ve never completely conquered, painting it many times each year and never getting it to a point of perfection. Each year I think, “This will be the year I capture its true essence and the sense of quiet in this place.” No two days are alike; in fact, no one day is the same minute to minute.

Capturing Hearts

Over almost 30 years in this place, I’ve watched this region capture the heart of every visitor who comes here. Busy, insanely uptight business people, like I was, come here, and soon they melt into the peace of these woods. I’ve never been in a place where one can relax so easily, almost instantly.

I’d spend my busy business-filled year looking forward to a week at the lake, which is all I got most summers, and some summers I couldn’t get here at all. Yet I knew that week would ground me, soothe my soul, reconnect me with nature, and wash away a year’s worth of stress.

Healing Summers

My summers here are my healing. Walks through the woods, painting in front of misty waterfalls, absorbing deep forest greens with my eyes, filling my ears with the sounds of loons crying in the night or even, oddly enough, the patter of tiny mouse feet inside the walls of our 100-year-old cabin. It is all very comforting, and the experience I crave all year when we’re not here.

I spent many years getting my business in a position so that I could be here all summer, something that was also impossible before Internet by satellite came here to the woods. When the kids were pre-school, we would stay from June through November, through the first couple of snows. One day, once the kids hit college, our time here will increase so I can experience as much time here as possible without putting up with the 30-below temps of the deep winter. After all, our house has no heat, no insulation.

Saying Goodbye

Tears fill my eyes when I leave this place as each summer ends, knowing that one day we may be unable to return, and knowing that I’ll long for it all year. Summers here are getting shorter because our high school-aged triplets have to return a month early for marching band practice. I want to be selfish and stay, but that’s not what good fathers do.

The woods are medicine to my soul.

Perhaps it was youth that fostered my addiction to activity, but it was the woods that coaxed me out of it. Solitude with nature has become my temple, my place to communicate with my thoughts and my maker.

Walking a Woodsy Trail

My morning ritual, my commute from our small cabin among the towering trees, is a five-minute walk down a tree-lined dirt road to the lakeside boathouse where I do my daily work, and where I longingly look out over the lake, hoping to knock off early for a visit to the other shores.

No man could ever have convinced me that the woods would become part of my DNA, or that I’d thrive away from my busy addiction. But I could not fight it. I tried, but it won me over.

I recently heard a quote: “Build pockets of stillness into your life. Presence is far more rewarding than productivity.”

Summers beside the lake surrounded by deep woods do my soul good, but it is the solitude and the presence, the quiet, that stimulates thought, that matters. My quiet mornings to myself help me find that presence, and they help me reconnect with my true self, getting away from my busy self.

I feel especially blessed to have experienced this place and been able to call it home for many summers. My kids have never known summer anywhere else. We are very fortunate.

Small Screens Create Stress

Though we are easily seduced by small screens, tweets, and Instagram posts so we junkies don’t have to let a minute pass without glancing at the screen in our hands, waiting to see who tweeted what, we need to understand that it’s an addiction, and it creates dopamine, just like opiates do. Like heroin addicts, we cannot let go, yet we need to.

We all need solitude, whether it’s a place to escape, woods to walk through, or just mornings free of activity so we can quietly hear the ticking of the clock and the chirp of the morning birds. Seek it, and embrace it, because it feeds the soul.

During the school year, getting the kids off to school and having each morning be an insane one, my strategy is to awaken, and sit peacefully with my coffee, with the quiet, with the peace, with my thoughts and prayers.

Delaying Addiction

Though my addictive side wants to glance at that small screen to see who is paying attention to me with their tweets and posts and e-mails, and though it’s become our way of finding out what’s going on in our world, I try to resist and preserve my quiet time. The moment I glance at a screen, my mind begins to race for the day and the peace and quiet is lost.

The Sounds of Silence

This Sunday morning I encourage you to seek silence and peace. It’s a gift, and it’s therapy in preparation for a busy day. If you have a place nearby you can go to get back to nature, it’s a blessing for sure, but all you really need is a quiet spot in a corner of your home to ponder life each morning before your busy day kicks in.

Seek out your special time, and protect it with your life. Use that time to journal, to read, to think, to pray. You can achieve it in the middle of a busy city or in the solitude of the woods.

Seek silence, seek quiet. Pull away from the noise, the activity, the screen, and feed your soul.

This morning the rain is pounding the house like Niagara Falls. The noise is deafening, yet somehow makes the house feel more quiet, more secure. It’s almost like a giant hug from nature, and it’s saying, “Stay inside, don’t be in a hurry to go outside to get to your day. Take a day for yourself inside to relax, to read, to think.”

I cherish early mornings like this because of the quiet and solitude, and the chance to put my thoughts down on paper. It’s therapeutic. It’s also the calm before the storm, when the whirlwind we call family awakens noisily and in a hurry to get to their day — though the rain may keep them snugly nestled in their bunks since the sun won’t be tickling their eyelids on this soaked morning.

Last week I wrote about the melancholy of friendships when we have to part, following my Publisher’s Invitational paint camp in the Adirondacks. Over the course of the last week, I’ve received some e-mails and calls from people who were in attendance, and one such note got me thinking. You see, this one person sent me a note that said, in part, “You’ve changed my life. I don’t know what I would have done if I had not found you.”

Um, ahh, I’m a little uncomfortable telling you that, because I don’t want to appear for a split second to be full of myself or to make you think I’m arrogant or self-centered.

The full note said this…

“I don’t know how you do all that you do, and I don’t know why you chose to do what you do, but you’ve changed my life. I don’t know what I would have done if I had not found you. My life was a mess, and because of you, I discovered painting, which has given me purpose and peace. This event [the Publisher’s Invitational in the Adirondacks] helped me find my tribe, helped me make new friends, and helped me see how other painters approach painting, which not only made me a better painter, but helped me feel like I’m a part of something bigger.”

I get shivers when I hear things like this because it’s nice to know that I’m making a difference.

But I also have to tell you that my mind plays tricks on me and says things like, “Why me? Why was I chosen to be the one to help others find their path? Why do I do what I do? “

A Valuable Mission

I’m on a mission to help 1 million people discover painting, because painting changes lives. It changed my life, opened my eyes, and gave me purpose, a creative outlet, a whole new set of friends, and a whole new life and career.

I realized that something as powerful as the process of learning to paint will change others. I want to share that with the world. This got me thinking back to the times we created PleinAir magazine, Fine Art Connoisseur magazine, and the Plein Air Convention & Expo (PACE). Each was started out of passion. Each was based on seeing a need, and realizing that someone had to fill that need.

A Logical Step

At the time I began plein air painting, I was already making my living as a publisher, and I saw what I thought might be a growing movement. And I felt that since plein air painting was changing my life, perhaps others would get some benefit from it. By starting a magazine, I could amplify the movement. At that moment, I didn’t ask “Why me?” I asked, “Why not me?”

The same was true for the Plein Air Convention. It became clear that as the movement grew, there would be a need to see the quality of painting rise, so that all the people coming into plein air painting could grow as painters as quickly as possible. It was also clear that there needed to be a central gathering place to form a community where we could learn, grow together, and work toward ensuring a strong future for outdoor painting. Again, I thought, “Why not me?”

Rooted in Passion

When I started Fine Art Connoisseur, it was rooted in my passion for the new realism movement, based on the heritage painters of the past. Few artists were working that way, but I could sense it would catch on and that it was worth someone’s time to push and develop it. So at great financial risk, I followed my beliefs and launched the magazine. For many years I was shut out by skeptical advertisers, but I decided to be patient and do all I could do to keep it going. Someone needed to do it. Why not me?

Something New That Needs to Be Done

Now that community of realists is in need of a central event to bring them together for growth, training, for a strategy to build the industry, and for a sense of belonging. And I’ve had to ask myself once more, “Why not me?” The result is a new conference this coming November, called the Figurative Art Convention and Expo (FACE), for people who create museum-quality figurative and portrait artwork, and those who want to, to come and learn from top masters.

Doors Slammed in My Face

As I look back on a career filled with pain, failed businesses, having doors slammed in my face, almost losing everything I owned at least two or three times, and, yes, an occasional success, I’ve realized that the best things that come to us are not planned. They come accidentally and are fueled by passion.

Though I set out on a clear mission to be an on-air radio entertainer, starting at age 14, pretty much everything good in my career happened because I had a passion, saw an opportunity for a future, and jumped on it without a plan or any idea how I would make it work. Because I saw a need, believed that maybe I could fill that need, and said, “Why not me?”

In every instance my brain first told me, “Why me? I’m not capable. I’m not worthy. I’m not sure I can pull it off. I don’t have the money. I don’t have the time. I don’t have the expertise.”

When Self-Doubt Strikes

Self-doubt slips in every time, and sometimes it wins. So many times my mind played games and I told myself that I was not the right person, that someone else should take on this responsibility. But then I think…

“What if no one else sees what I see?”
“What if no one else does what needs to be done?”
“What if it never happens?”

That seems to convince me. So I either act on it, or in some cases, if I feel it’s not right for me, I’ll share the idea and suggest it to someone else.

So what about you?

Why not you?

I read a lot of biographies. Most great women and men had little confidence in themselves when they had their best ideas. Most did not feel deserving. Most did not have any special status or expertise. But they believed in their ideas, and in the changes their ideas would make in the world. So instead they asked, “Why not me? If not me, then who?” They believed that if they pursued their ideas, they would find a way.

Don’t Assume People Have Advantages

It’s easy to look at the people who have accomplished great things and assume they had special gifts, special contacts, special knowledge. Most did not. They had the same thing you and I have: passion and an idea that needed to happen. So they asked, “Why not me?”

You have special gifts. You can see things others cannot see. You have passions others don’t have. Why not you?

I’d like to encourage you this week to think about something that should happen, but won’t if you don’t take it on.

Don’t let that negative inner voice get in the way. Kick him or her out of your head and go for it.

When an idea or a cause is bigger than the negative voices in your head, that is the time to pursue it. Instead of asking, “Why me?” ask, “Why not me?”

Have a great week!

You’re looking especially fine this morning. If you’re a dad, happy dad’s day. If you’re missing your dad, please know my heart is with you. I always look forward to what the kids come up for me to do with them on this day.

I’m up early … the sun has been coming up about 4:30 these days, and these early mornings are so peaceful. The lake remains still. The light has not yet hit the “golden” moments, but it won’t be long. Meanwhile, the mountain is reflecting a deep bluish-green-purple color in the water, and we’ve got some puffy clouds. Hope it’s not rain. I’m sitting in a bright red Adirondack chair, which is entirely appropriate, considering I’m at a lake in the Adirondack Park.

Mixed Emotions

Today, I’m happy and I’m sad. Happy because it’s Father’s Day and I’m blessed to still have my dad around and in excellent health. Happy because it’s my day and the kids pay a little more attention than normal.

But I’m also sad. Not “someone died” sad, but “friends are leaving” sad. You see, this morning as I awoke, the reality set in that today we all go home, and some of us may never be together again.

The Last Day

This morning is the last day of my Publisher’s Invitational in the Adirondack Mountains. We have been together since last Sunday, when everyone checked in and we had our orientation and opening dinner. Then we got up each morning and had breakfast together, went out and painted in the most amazing scenery all day every day, then gathered for dinner together each evening. We sat up at night telling stories, viewing one another’s paintings from the day, having drinks together, painting portraits, and playing some music. It’s a pretty festive week.

The best part of the week, other than painting all day with no pressure to be anywhere, and no pressure of competing in a show, is that we all become very close. We develop some fabulous friendships during the week, and for those who return year after year, we get even closer and look forward to the following year.

Summer Camp

I can remember having this same sad, sinking feeling after summer camp as a child. I was nervous going to camp not knowing anyone, but by the end of a couple of weeks I did not want to leave my friends, who all went to different schools in different cities. I also remember looking forward to returning year after year. This week is a lot like that because, after all, I call it “paint camp.”

The concept of this event started out simple: friends getting together to paint and play for a week, because the painters’ circuit is busy and competitive and we simply never get to do that. We started with seven painters, and they began bringing their friends, and this week we had 77 painters.

Hanging with Friends

Though my intent with the Invitational was to spend time with old friends, the unexpected benefit has been the new friends. When friends bring their friends, suddenly your circle of friends grows. I’ve always got room for new ones, and just when you think you have enough really close friends, something deep develops unexpectedly.

My Grandmother Luella, at age 92, told me, “You have to work at friendships to keep them alive.” She taught me well. She was always calling friends around the country and updating them on the family. She had hundreds of friends accumulated over 90-plus years. My dad is the same way. Learning this was a gift that has enriched my own life. I hope I can pass it on to my kids. This little Sunday missive is one of the ways I keep in touch.

We make discoveries by accident, but what my grandmother said was really true … you have to work at friendships. I create a lot of things to nurture friendships. I invest in finding time with special people.

Cycles of Life

I tend to believe that our lives have friendship cycles. There were times in my life when I spent a lot of time with certain people, had lots of good times, and then those people naturally faded from my life. They were little gifts. In some cases we served a purpose for one another for a time, and then we grew apart, intentionally or unintentionally. My radar is always open to new people for a new cycle in my life. Not all friends need to stay forever.

What I’ve found is that friends grow apart when the circumstances bringing them together change. I can remember friends I met in the radio business, people I spent a lot of time with because we were at the same meetings and same events and we grew closer, but then a few years passed and they moved on to other jobs or industries, and we simply don’t run into one another anymore. Sometimes too much time passes and you discover you can’t even find people anymore.

Difficult Friendships

Another hard lesson I’ve learned is that sometimes you have to shed friends. Though I’m never calling anyone and saying, “We’re not friends anymore,” there are times you just have to lay low because someone has become toxic. It was a hard lesson, because I never want to let anyone go, but when people become abusive to themselves or others, when they are doing things that are not healthy for themselves or the relationship, I have to keep my distance. Fortunately, it hasn’t happened often.

Of course, there are also the pretend friends. They tell you one thing and tell others another, and it gets back to you. It’s pure evil. I still hurt thinking about how I believed in some people and I was betrayed, yet they still pretend all is well.

Deadly Gossip

I recently lost a good friend because I told another mutual friend, out of concern, about something I’d heard — and that friend told my friend, who called me on it. I’ll think twice before I do that again because the loss of friendship leaves a gaping hole. It’s best just to keep my trap shut. Gossip is deadly even if you didn’t intend it as gossip.

The best friends are the lifers, of course. Sometimes you’re not in touch for years, even decades, but you still consider one another friends, and when you’re back together you don’t skip a beat. Facebook has been great for staying informed on the lives of friends I don’t often see in person.

My best lifers are the ones who nurture their friendships. It’s forced collision — I try to force it annually.

Together All Year

One of my closest lifer friends and I are like the two characters in the movie Same Time Next Year. I do an annual event at the Harvard Club in New York for my radio magazine, Radio Ink, and he likes to attend, so he always comes in and we room together at the National Arts Club, go to dinner and breakfast together, and get caught up on families and feelings. It’s something we both cherish because we talk for hours.

Though we talk randomly throughout the year, this is a way we carve out time for one another. It’s a big sacrifice for him to make the trip, and it’s one of the most meaningful times of the year for me. I look forward to it all year. We’ve done it for probably 10 years, and last year he missed it for the first time because he had a chance to go to Asia. It was truly lonely without him, and a time when I realized that one day that friend could be gone. As they say, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

I’m not sure why I feel so strongly about friendships. Maybe it was not getting picked for either team as the fat kid in elementary school, or being so weird that me and the kids I hung out with were the school losers (according to others, not us).

Driven by Friendships

As I look back on my year and my events, I’ve realized that friendships drive the whole thing. We really do get close at painting events like this week’s Adirondack Publisher’s invitational, next October’s Fall Color Week in Acadia National Park in Maine, and trips like the one I’ve taken painters on to Cuba and New Zealand in the last 18 months, or even our annual art cruise (this year, for the first time, it’s not a cruise — we’re going to Russia). I’m sure I’ll make friends on next year’s African Art Safari. Of course, the Plein Air Convention (PACE) and the Figurative Art Convention & Expo (FACE) will be filled with new and old friendships.

Though I started kinda melancholy this morning, I’ve just realized how fortunate I am to be in a position to make so many friends. I can always be a better friend, I can nurture more, call more, and stay in better touch. Some friends I rarely see, others I see frequently, and it’s still not enough.

My grandmother had a rich life with deep and meaningful friendships, and I think her advice to stay in touch and nurture those relationships has paid off. It makes life so much richer when you can share it with others.

I feel like the luckiest man alive…

Today may be Father’s Day, which comes with its responsibilities, but why not seek out and nurture some friends today and this week?

I’m in a relaxed state of mind as the fog lifts off the lake this Sunday morning. There is a loon about 30 feet off the dock and she just took a dive, startled by the noise of my fingers on my iPad’s keyboard. The lake is quiet and peaceful, no boat noise. I did see an early morning canoe in the distance, in the shadow of the mountain. There are layers of trees, each a little lighter and grayer as they recede into the distance, and the water is still as a statue. The lake is like a giant amplifier, and I can actually hear the conversation of the couple in the canoe though they are a half mile away. Nothing interesting, just small talk.

Last weekend I was invited to be a part of something I consider pretty special: the Putney Painters, a painting group in Putney, Vermont, headed by legendary artist Richard Schmid and his wife, Nancy Guzik. As my Grandmother Luella used to say, “a red letter day.” I’ve been once before, when Richard painted my portrait. But this time I was invited to paint with the group.

This was the second-to-last official Putney Painters gathering involving Richard Schmid. He has decided to end it officially because of other things he wants to accomplish drawing his time and attention. The group has been meeting weekly, certain times of the year, in a lovely old red barn called Village Arts of Putney for the past 10 or so years.

Sometimes I get invited to places because people want press or coverage, but that wasn’t the case this time; no one was over-promoting or asking for coverage. It was just a calm, easygoing day, where we all painted. And because I set up directly behind Richard, where I could see every brushstroke, I learned while I observed and painted.

I’ve had the privilege of seeing Richard paint before, and one day I set up in the garden next to him and did a painting of him painting. Of course, I’ve watched all his DVDs, and I’ve read his books, including the new version of Alla Prima, the must-read bible on painting. He also told me how excited he is because before Christmas, he is re-releasing his book The Landscapes with more content, and even more brilliant scans and printing, making the few remaining copies of his current Landscapes book a rare collectible.

What I learned in painting with Richard this time was that he is not in a hurry, as I tend to be. Everything is slow and deliberate, even though his paintings look like they were done rapidly and are filled with energy. He takes time in observation, then takes time mixing, then more time observing, then he lays down a perfect stroke. He once told me he used to spend his time correcting mistakes, so by being more deliberate and careful, he eliminates mistakes up front.

I also noticed how softly he paints. He spends a lot of time laying down soft brushstrokes, and in some cases he softens them still further, with a sable brush or even his hands or a rag. It was an important lesson for me … slowing down and being soft.

He talked about how likeness is achieved by squinting down and painting the big shapes, saying that one does not need to know anatomy, but just to paint the shapes one sees. He talked about the importance of squinting for shape — but not making things as dark as they appear when squinting.

But I’m not here to provide an art lesson today.

Richard finished his painting early and walked through the room to talk with and help most of the painters, people who had all been painting with him — in some cases, over decades. It was amazing, the quality of the paintings by the people in the room … people like Kathy Anderson, Stephanie Birdsall, Charlie Hunter, and many others I’d met only once or twice before. Stephanie was like a giddy little girl after Richard spent 10 minutes showing her how to get perfect soft edges on her painting. “I’ve been here on and off for years, and this one day was one of the most important lessons I’ve ever learned,” she told me.

I shuddered inside when the master sauntered up to my painting, studied it, then said, “I think your drawing is off on the back of the head.” (We were painting Symi Jackson from Rosemary & Co Brushes.) Then he took his brush and measured and said, “Nope, I was wrong. It’s perfect.”

He looked at me and said, “I had no idea you were such a good painter.” Then he walked away.

Though I’ve always found Richard to be encouraging to others, I also know he does not throw out compliments unless there is good reason. He always looks for something encouraging to say to someone, for sure — “nice colors” kinds of things. But to hear this sent me to the moon. Of course, what I did not tell him is that I was watching and trying to emulate what he did. So the compliment may not be fully deserved … but I’ll take it.

That then brings me to my point for today.

The secret no one ever told me about, for decades, is that the biggest, most successful people are generous and focus constantly on generosity.

Though the media makes out big business leaders as ruthless, hard-nosed jerks, I’ve learned that for the most part, the opposite is true. Most of the business owners I know, some of whom have even become billionaires, are not ruthless at all. Instead, they are generous. They have learned, as I did, that if you set out to actually change people’s lives, set out to help them while expecting nothing in return, you magically end up more successful. It could almost be considered one of the laws of the universe.

I spent many decades in business without fully understanding this principle. Though I’ve always been a giving person, I kind of separated that out to my personal life. It was radio talk host Dave Ramsey who urged me to incorporate a spirit of generosity into my business.

It was like flipping a switch. When I told my team to approach everything this way, it was an eye-opener for us all, and suddenly it gave us more purpose. Suddenly things were not just about business or profits, they were about using the business as a tool to change lives, to make change in the lives of others. Showing up for work had a new meaning, and my entire demeanor changed.

No one likes to show up for work unless there is a bigger mission, and my mission on the art side of my business is to teach 1 million people to paint. Painting changed something inside of me, and I want others to experience the joy, the satisfaction, the continual stimulation, and the ability to use their creativity.

If I had to define my purpose in everything I do, it’s to educate, inspire, and engage people. If something pops up and it does not fit within those three words, I don’t do it. It’s got to fit the mission.

One thing I hear continually about Richard Schmid is that he is generous. I could see it when I watched him truly interested in helping the Putney Painters. I’ve heard it from dozens of people who say his true interest in helping them resulted in their entire careers blossoming.

I was raised by generous parents and grandparents who instilled those values into me at a young age. But my mentors in business never taught me this important lesson, and I ultimately had to find it on my own. I spent a lot of years wandering around without a mission. Though I had goals, I did not have a bigger purpose.

Since changing that attitude a few years ago, everything has changed in our world, and we’re able to affect a lot more lives in so many ways I never thought would be possible. We even managed to pay for and build a home in a homeless village because we take a significant part of our earnings and try to put them to good use for charities. It sure feels better coming to work every day knowing that our work has deeper meaning.

Once generosity found my heart, I kept running into others who operate on this principle, and I’m seeing lives and attitudes change because of so many others taking this approach.

It’s important to note that this doesn’t work if you do it for the purpose of growing your business. But it will help your business grow, as a side benefit. And even if it doesn’t, it makes showing up for work much more pleasurable.

As you know, I teach marketing for artists, and I spend a lot of time studying the biggest successes. And I’ve since discovered that though all are savvy marketers, the majority are very generous. I think that’s why Richard Schmid became so famous. He’s a brilliant painter, but there are other brilliant painters who have never been discovered or become so successful. I think it’s that spirit of generosity that propels people beyond anything they could do on their own.

I asked Richard where he learned this spirit of giving. “My mother,” he said. “We were always raised to put others first.”
So our thought for this week is: What can you do to be more generous to others, expecting absolutely nothing in return? In what ways can you go above and beyond to be generous?

Though this weekly note is fairly new, readership is already soaring. Imagine how much impact you and I can have if we each implement more generosity for a solid week. I think it could be huge.

Recently I discovered a hot young artist by the name of Sean Escott, who I think is the next budding superstar plein air painter. He sent me an e-mail asking for some advice, and though time is tight, I gave him more time than I had to help him launch his career. Frankly, once he is discovered, his life is going to change.

Anyway, at the end of our talk, he said, “How can I repay you?” And though it was tempting to say, “Send me a painting” or something, my heart told me that would send the wrong message. My reply was simple: “One day you’ll have a chance to help someone learn the important lessons you’ve already learned. The best thing you can do to pay me back is to do this for someone else in the future. Pay it forward.”

That, my friends, is what we all need to do. Play the long game. Pay it forward. And even if business rewards don’t come, it doesn’t matter, because seeing someone’s eyes light up when you’ve been unexpectedly generous — that’s the best possible reward you can ever get.

This week, be generous. It truly is the secret to success.

PS: I took some photos at the Putney Painters that day. You can view them below.

As a family we had been spending our summers on a lake in Indiana for three generations (four including my brothers and me), and I remember my dad saying that when his grandfather used to take him fishing on the lake, there were no speedboats, no noisy Jet Skis, and almost no homes on the lake. But that all changed, and my dad began to realize that the only reason our family was still on this lake was because he’d grown up there. We were there for tradition. His grandfather had been there because it was a beautiful and peaceful place at the time.

About that time the movie On Golden Pond came out, and the scenes were of a lake in New Hampshire, with deep pine trees, aging log homes with squeaky screen doors, the smell of pine needles, and lazy days spent fishing, running, and jumping off a dock.

“This is what our lake used to be like,” said my dad, “but it’s not that way anymore.”

Instant Action

While most would come to the realization and accept it, my father took immediate action by calling around to find out where the movie had been filmed. Two days later he was on that lake in New Hampshire, looking for a place to relocate for the summers.

Because of the popularity of the movie and the lake, the prices were way out of his range, plus there were things he wanted that he could not find near that lake.

More than Gas

Being the friendly guy he is, he wandered into a gas station and struck up a conversation with the attendant. “Do you know any other lakes like this one? I like it, but I’d love to have some islands in my view, and then a distant mountain. I want something quiet, no Jet Skis, and I’d love a lake that is mostly old wooden boats and old cabins. But I don’t want to pay these kinds of prices.”

Others probably would have kept this vision to themselves or assumed that the attendant wouldn’t know, but this attendant did know.

“I know just the place, but it’s not around here, it’s near the Canadian border in upstate New York. I used to date a girl who lived on the lake I’m thinking about, and I heard the house was for sale because her dad is dying.”

A Life-Changing Phone Call

My dad walked over to the pay phone, gave the man some change, and said, “Do you mind calling them right now?” The conversation went like this:

Gas Guy: Hello, you may not remember me, my name is Jimmy, and I used to date your daughter.

Lady at House: Of course I remember you, Jimmy. We always liked you. My daughter ended up marrying a bad guy, and it’s been nothing but problems.

Gas Guy: I’m sorry to hear that. We can talk about that at another time. I’ve got a friend here with me, and I was telling him I heard a rumor that your husband was ill and that you might have the house on the lake for sale.

Lady: Well, that’s true, but we just sold the house yesterday.

Gas Guy: Oh, that’s too bad. I’ll tell him.

Dad: Let me talk to her, please. I’d like to meet her.

Gas Guy: He wants to talk to you and meet you anyway.

After a brief introduction, Dad says…

Dad: So, you say you sold the house. Have you closed on it?

Lady: Well, no. We’re fighting over the china and the piano. We can’t close until that is resolved.

Dad: I’ll tell you what, I’ll solve that problem for you. I’ll buy the house, and you can keep the china and the piano and anything else you want to keep. Do you think you can cancel the other sale?

Lady: Well, I can check on that. But don’t you want to know the price of the house? Don’t you want to see it first? What if you don’t like it?

Dad: I’m sure the price is fair, and if I don’t like it, you’ll never know. I’ll phone you tomorrow to see if you can get out of the sale and I’ll overnight you a check.

Welcome to Shangri-La

Less than a week later, he had closed on a house he had never seen. Once they had moved out and he saw the property, it was the most beautiful view on the lake, just as he had envisioned. Quiet, peaceful, old cabins, lots of wooden boats, no Jet Skis, and lots of creaky screen doors. It was much better than he ever expected.

I tell you this story of spontaneity this Sunday morning because his willingness to be spontaneous changed a lot of lives, including mine. Several hundred painters have been guests at this special place as part of my annual Adirondacks paint camp.

Resistant to Change

Though I resisted giving up my friends and our lake place in Indiana, and though I did not want to like this new place in the Adirondack Mountains — which I had never heard of — it turned out to become my muse for photography, and then painting. It was the most beautiful place I had ever seen and has inspired some of the best painters on earth.

In fact, I loved it so much that I created an event here called the Publisher’s Invitational, where I host a group of painters each year to paint this magnificent 10,000-square-mile state park, which is bigger than most national parks and equally beautiful and pristine.

I learned the art of spontaneity from my dad long before this moment in time, and it has served me well.

Planning to Death

You see, most of us plan everything to death. Though I love to plan things and to have things to look forward to (I always try to plan a trip to someplace exotic at least a year in advance, and I love having events to look forward to like the Adirondacks, Fall Color Week in Acadia National Park, the Plein Air Convention, or my African Art Safari trip), I also know that my heart will follow something not on the plan.

The Best Is Rarely on a Plan

I have to admit that the best things that have ever happened in my life have been the result of being spontaneous. For instance, my trip to Russia was the best trip I’ve ever taken in my entire life, and it occurred spontaneously (read about my new trip here). My first instinct was to tell myself there were a thousand reasons I could not go (and there were), but I just said, “What the heck,” and went for it because I knew I would always regret not going.

In fact, I turned down an all-expenses-paid three-week painting trip to China because I had lots of reasons I could not go. To this day I regret it. Though I told myself there would always be a next time, the reality is that there isn’t always a next time. None of those reasons would have mattered.

On-the-Spot Decisions

Spontaneity isn’t always about travel or trips. I’ve met people, talked about ideas, and cut deals on the spot that have turned out to be wonderful opportunities to boost my business or help others. I’ve been in meetings when someone will come up with an idea and I’ll react by saying, “Let’s do it,” without researching it to death and finding all the reasons that “it won’t work.”

Spontaneous Radio

In fact, I bought my first radio station spontaneously. I had been a consultant for this company, and it was renewal time. They told me they were not going to renew and were not going to give me the new station they had been planning to put on the air. Spontaneously, I said, “I’m so convinced that this will work, I’ll buy the stations from you. Name your price.” They called my bluff, and I ended up buying my first AM/FM station.

I’m sitting here on the dock, writing this on my iPad, coffee resting on the arm of a big deep-green Adirondack chair, because of spontaneity. I’ve been able to spend my summers here for the last 15 years so my kids can experience this place every summer of their lives because I spontaneously decided I would work from here each summer, even before we could get Internet up here.

I looked up the word and I got this: “voluntary or undetermined action or movement.”

But I think it’s more than that. Something within us that stimulates spontaneity.

Following Your Gut Instincts

Years ago I attended a decisionmaking course, and they told us that nine out of 10 times, when a decision has to be made fast, without thinking, we make the right decision because of something that occurs in our subconscious mind. They told us to learn to listen to our gut, because it was usually right.

In testing at school, my teachers used to say, “Write the first thing that comes to mind,” and often when I’m asking someone’s opinion about something, I ask them what the first thing to come to mind was. I value that first thing as the “gut” that is telling us what we really want.

Spontaneity is a reaction of the heart. Thought is a reaction of the mind. Both are important, but I like to think that our lives are better when we lead with the heart.

(Now I’m really sounding like an artist.)

When I interview prominent artists in my podcast, they often talk about painting and responding to the initial reaction we have when we see something we feel we need to paint. That too is spontaneous, and a reaction of the heart.

Myers-Briggs Corporation tells us there are four personality types, two of which are prone to leading with the heart, while the other two lead from the head.

This Is Insane!! I Can’t Just Do This!

Half the people reading this are having a strong reaction and maybe a sick feeling in their stomachs because the idea of doing anything spontaneous is just wrong. These same people make wonderful accountants and lawyers and doctors, because those are professions where shooting from the hip will get you in trouble.

I think I have a nice balance. I lead from the heart, but I’ve trained myself to listen to my left brain, too.

Why am I telling you this?

Simply because there could be some wonderful opportunities you’re missing because you’re trying to rationalize everything with the left brain. Logical and practical is good, but it’s not always as entertaining. You could be missing out on the best things in life because you need all the pieces to fit perfectly into your plan.

Naked in the Streets

I’m not suggesting you throw caution to the wind and go running through the streets without your clothes while trying psychoactive drugs. I am suggesting that you might feel a sense of freedom if you’re willing to take a chance, listen to your heart, shed all the reasons it seems like a bad idea, and just try something spontaneous.

Give it some thought. This week, try to listen to what your heart wants to do and take a shot at doing something your left brain thinks is totally impractical. It will be difficult at first, but you’ll find you’re happy you tried it. And keep an eye open for a chance to be spontaneous this week.

Sunday mornings are special to me because I don’t have to wake early and get the kids off to school. It’s the day I break my routine of going to the gym before work. My Sunday-morning routine is to wake up before everyone else in the household, sit here in my studio in the “model’s” chair, and just think. It’s nice and quiet, and I can look out over the property to enjoy the golden morning light.

A New View

Today it’s different. My view has changed. While I was away at a mastermind group meeting in Greenwich and then in planning meetings in Dayton, my wife had many of our trees cut back. Since we’ve owned this property, we’ve suspected that there was a view behind our trees. Sure enough, three days of trimming and cutting resulted in a beautiful view above the treetops, allowing us to see some distant purple hills. Now I have something new to paint from my studio porch.

When I go to mastermind meetings, I always learn a lot about myself when others in the group work on my business, but also when we work on other businesses. One thing is for sure: Sometimes I cannot clearly see my business because I’m so close to it, but others can see things I’m missing. I cherish these meetings.

Specificity

I picked up on a theme this week that has had me thinking. That theme is specificity.

When listening to others talk about their goals, their dreams, and the things they are working on in their businesses, most lacked specificity. So many things were presented in broad terms, yet I discovered that the people who seemed to be “crushing it” in their businesses were very specific about their purpose, their dreams, and their goals.

In one of my Art Marketing Boot Camp videos, I speak about the value of being specific in your goals. The more exact you are about your goals, the more you can visualize things very specifically, the more your mind can get around it and hope things will come true.

An Exact Vision

For instance, someone might say, “My goal is to have a new studio.” Though that’s a great dream, a better defined goal is to have a very specific plan for that studio so you know the exact dimensions and design, and you can picture the inside, the decorations, the way things are organized, the view, the place it sits, everything.

Vision Boards

In fact, there is a concept called vision boards, where you cut out pictures of what you want, stick them on a poster board, and put it in a place you look at a lot every day. I once did this with a picture of a Porsche. When I put the board up, I could not afford one, but I looked at it every day on my bathroom mirror, and it eventually came true. I rewarded myself with a used Porsche as a reward for selling my radio stations years ago. The color was the exact color, model, and design as the one on my vision board.

Specificity matters.

A little story about specificity.

A guy named Mike was working for me, and he was telling me about the importance of specificity in prayer.

A Frightening Moment

One day my bookkeeper came in to see me and said, “We’re out of money. We cannot make payroll. We don’t have any money owed to us. We’re in deep trouble.”

Though I was very nervous about the situation I had put myself into, I confidently walked into my office, shut the door, got on my knees, and prayed for the specific amount of money we needed for the payroll by the coming Wednesday. The amount was to the penny, like $18,376.38.

On My Knees

Then I got busy finding ways to stimulate business and get some money in the doors, and a couple of days later, one of my clients phoned me and said, “Would you mind if I prepaid you for next year’s advertising? I’d like to get it on this year’s budget since I have money left in the budget.” I told him it was OK. I had no idea how much money he had in mind, but on Wednesday, when the check arrived, it was $18,376.38. I’m not making this up, and frankly, I was absolutely shocked too.

I don’t tell you this to push anything on you. I say it to make the point that specificity is important in everything you do.

Setting Painting Goals

If you’re setting goals — for instance, you want to sell more paintings in 2018 than you did in 2017 — then you need to go into detail. How many paintings, how many frames, what sizes, what specific amount of money, and of course where they will be sold. You then need to be specific for each week, each month, and sometimes each day. For instance, we should all know the amount of money we should bring in each day or, at least, each week, in order to reach our goals, so that not a day goes by that you are not shooting for that number.

The more specific you get, the more you can be specific in envisioning it. Then you have to look at your goals frequently, preferably daily.

Letting Others in on Your Numbers

Not only is specificity important in your goal-setting, you need to be specific with others. Tell your gallery owner (if you have one) that you have set a goal of selling four 9 x 12-inch landscape paintings by the 20th of each month. Subconsciously, this will help them work toward that goal, especially if you find ways to remind them.

Specifics Also Make Things More Memorable

I once attended a seminar on organization where we were told to set appointments at 7:03, for example, instead of 7:00. It makes it more memorable for both parties, and it sends a signal that you are precise. Typically, airline times are specific and not general. Even 7-Eleven does it.

Your mission for this week, should you decide to do it?

Try specificity and see if it has any impact on your life.

A Quick Side Note

I often talk about repetition in marketing and advertising. Repetition builds trust; it builds awareness. In the world of goal-setting, it builds internal belief. If you say something enough, even if you don’t believe it in the beginning, things will start to unfold on your behalf, and before long you’ll start believing it. Then later, it gets so cemented that things start happening to make it come true.

Don’t Drift

We usually don’t just get in our cars and go when we’re taking a trip; we look at a map or we program the trip into a GPS. If you’re a ship at sea, you don’t just go out and drift — you’ll eventually drift someplace you did not intend to go, or you’ll drift right into the rocks. A ship needs navigation, and it needs to be taking action toward a specific point on the map. In other words, the ship needs sails capturing the wind or the engine running and pushing toward that location. So once your dreams are translated into specific goals, specific dates, you can’t just drift along. Your engine needs to be running and you need to be pushing yourself with action.

I wish you a great week. There has never been a greater time to be alive because so much more is possible than ever before.

I am grateful for you and for your time. Sometimes I pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming, because I’m doing what I love with people I really enjoy. Thank you for making that possible. Of course, I welcome your comments.

As I was driving to the airport and rushing to catch a plane, my father sent me a text that said, “I’m going to come to your Plein Air Convention. I want to see what you do.”

I was blown away.

My dad was going to take his time and money to get on a plane and fly across the U.S., in order to be supportive of his son.

“That’s a great example of a great dad,” I said to my own son, who was riding in the back as Laurie drove me to the airport.

I texted back to find out if he needed a hotel room at the convention, and he replied that he had one at another hotel. I wasn’t sure when he was coming, but he asked when he should be there, and I suggested the opening of the convention and the next morning for Art Marketing Boot Camp.

That was the last I heard.

Midnight and a Sudden Text

Then, after arriving at my room at midnight the day before the convention started, I plugged my phone into the charger and noticed a text from my dad saying, “They don’t have my room.”

I assumed this meant he was in San Diego already, so just as I was about to call him back, my hotel phone rang. “Mr. Rhoads, there is a man here claiming to be your father, and he wants a key to your room.”

I ran down to the lobby and connected with my dad. Thankfully I had the presidential suite at the hotel because we were holding a VIP party for the six- and five-year attendees and faculty. So I requested a rollaway bed, offered him my king-size bed (which he refused), and we got him settled in.

Fast-Forward to the Future Me

Dad attended the opening and Art Marketing Boot Camp and wandered around the convention meeting friends and clients. In fact, I found him at a table at the bar with about six friends around him. One friend, Kathy Anderson, said, “This is eerie. I’m seeing you in 30 years.”

This experience has had me thinking about what a great dad and mom I have and how blessed I am to still have both of my parents.

It’s also made me question my own abilities as a father. What could I be doing that would be showing my kids that I support their interests? As a result, I’m trying harder to be more tuned in to what is important to them.

Raising kids is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, yet the most gratifying. Laurie and I have triplets (two boys and one girl) who are age 15.

Childhood Lessons

While thinking about how to be more deliberate and make sure I impart good information and wisdom to them, I draw on my childhood, and the lessons I observed from my parents and other mentors.

For instance, I think I got my work ethic from my dad, because he worked a lot. He once said that if you’re going to do something, you should be the best in the world at it. My mom imparted my creativity by encouraging me to paint and pushing me to try new things.

As kids, we had to work part of our summers at my dad’s company. That’s where I first started learning about marketing. “Always use full color, never black and white,” he would say. “You want to show your quality.”

My brothers worked in his factory and warehouse because they were a little older. I had to collate catalogues, test and try to break equipment, collate and assemble catalogue sheets, and I even learned to run a printing press. Summer after summer, we worked at the business, mowed other people’s lawns for income, washed cars, and did what we could to get some spending money or save for cars of our own.

Of course, we did not always love working at the time, but we got used to it, and we even got paid a little for it. Better still, we got the satisfaction of putting in a hard day and the sense of accomplishment that made us want to work more.

Working Trade Shows

Dad also used to make us work at trade shows. He would get permission for me to skip school, and I’d put on a suit and work his booth at McCormick Place in Chicago at the National Restaurant Association show. I had to shake hands, introduce myself, and show people how to use his restaurant equipment. I hated it at first, but over time grew to love interacting with people.

And he always made us put on suits and sit in on important business meetings, and in the meetings he would ask us what we thought, including us in important discussions, making us feel valued.

Though I’m not taking my kids out of school to work my events, you’ll see them at my Adirondack painters’ camp this coming June. They have worked registration since they were about 6, and today they have it down so well that I don’t need to lift a finger. They too griped about it in the beginning but now look forward to it.

Friend, Encourager, Challenger

The point of all this is that there is a delicate balance between being a friend, being an encourager, being a supporter, and challenging them and helping them develop a work ethic.

It’s really not just about kids, it’s about life.

Parenting, like life, is about challenging, helping people to find things within themselves that they don’t know are there, being supportive and encouraging, but pushing them to do things they won’t do on their own. Parenting, like life, is about showing up.

I feel incredibly fortunate to have been born to the parents I was given. Others have also been lucky, and some not so lucky. And though we get so much of our personality and ethic from our folks and other influential people like grandparents and friends, we can always find mentors we can emulate. I’ve had incredible mentors in business, in art and painting, and in marketing, who have given me examples of how to live an enriched life. Some mentors are close, others we see from afar through things like biographies.

The Never-Ending Task

The lesson this week for me is that parenting never stops. I received a lot of much-needed encouragement and support, and even though I’m well into my career and no longer a child or even a young adult, it felt good to be acknowledged and appreciated by my dad. I also received a note of encouragement from my mom, who saw the success on Facebook.

You may or may not have kids, but if you do, even if they are older, they still need you to show up and support and encourage them. They may not say they need it, but it sure feels good.

Your mission for this week?

Gratitude. Stop and think about what you have, or had, and be grateful for it. Even if it was not perfect, others do the best they know how to do.

Encouragement of others is a gift that not only explodes their self-confidence, it feels good to watch people light up. Encourage those around you.

My mission is to sit down and make a list of the things I still need to impart to my kids before they go off to college, and spend this summer working on those messages.

Have a great week. Thanks for sharing coffee with me this morning.

I feel like one of the luckiest men alive.

I knew and spent time with my grandparents as an adult and had all four for many years into adulthood. Three out of four lived into their mid-90s, which is a strong indicator of good genes.

I’m also blessed to have both of my parents, and they remain active, mentally alert, and very engaged. In fact, my dad flew out to the Plein Air Convention by himself and hung out with us for a couple of days before he went on a photo expedition. He wanted to see what his kid does for a living and be supportive. I’ve got a great dad and mom who support me.

Of course I tell my triplets, age 15, that I fully intend to be in their lives for many decades to come because I want to know their great-grandchildren…

Which brings me to something I spoke about on stage at the Plein Air Convention. It’s about aging.

Time Is Running Out…

I often tell the story of a relative who in his late 50s started talking about how he was “getting old” and needed to start the process of planning, because he would not be around long.

Perhaps he was half-joking, but I remember telling my wife, “He’s right. If he keeps talking about getting old, he won’t last long.”

As it turned out, he passed away soon after.

You see, our subconscious mind has triggers; they trigger our bodies to react to what we’re telling the brain. Our body is getting one of two signals: the signal to live or the signal to die.

The body takes those signals and produces what it needs to live, or to begin the process of deterioration. There are “signals” that impact life … our thinking, our level of exercise, our diets, our social lives, and our mental engagement.

I don’t even like to utter or type the words “I’m getting old” because I’m very protective about not putting this thought into my head to trigger negative action in my subconscious mind. If I do, it’s only as an example, and then I make a conscious effort to tell myself, “That’s unlike me to think that way.”

Though you and I don’t know when our end will come, I think it’s important to manage our thoughts and feed the right triggers, so that no matter our chronological age, we don’t trigger ourselves into a dying mode.

You Have to Train Your Brain

Instead of saying those words when I have a cranky back or a pain, I don’t utter anything age-related. Instead, I simply tell myself, “I need to fix the problem.” I then work very hard at not accepting physical limitations. After all, they may be age-related, but are usually caused by the lack of something else, usually proper diet or proper exercise.

Two years ago I popped a disc in my back when doing a stretch at the gym. It was painful, and it slowed me down. I refused surgery and kept going to professionals until I found some who told me there were other ways to address the issue. As a result, I went through a lot of chiropractic, rolfing, acupuncture, a little yoga, and even some new forms of deep tissue work, along with stretches and exercises to build scar tissue.

The problem is 100 percent solved, the disc is back in place, and the back is stable. Had I accepted the diagnosis of surgery first, or one doctor telling me, “It’s just part of getting old, you’ll need to learn to live with it,” I would not be where I am today.

There I go, talking about my health…

Have you noticed that often this is the topic when older people gather? My dad said, “I need to find younger friends, because the older ones only want to talk about their health.”

You Become What You Think About

What you talk about, what you spend your time on, is what feeds your mind. I try to avoid talking about my health, and I try to change the subject when friends start sharing their aches.

Frequently I scold people for using “getting old” kinds of phrases. The other day I scolded a nationally known speaker who teaches positive thinking. He did not even realize he was doing it.

In Art Marketing Boot Camp at the recent Plein Air Convention, I did a segment on building “the ultimate retirement” business as an artist because I hear from so many people who want to ramp up their art careers fast after they retire from their lifelong career. Many ask if there is time.

My answer is that you should assume you have unlimited amounts of time. The key is being engaged mentally, socially, and physically. Don’t place limits on yourself about how much time you have left. Assume you have a lot, because you can hold a paintbrush till your last breath.

Five Will Get You Fifty

Five years ago I read an article that said if you can live just 10 more years, there is a strong chance you could live 50 more years. The reality is that technology is rapidly changing. In fact, some billionaires are working on 3D-printing human tissue into new hearts and say they will eventually be able to 3D-print a full human body with perfect health.

They also say they have transferred a brain from one mouse to another, so a mouse who has learned a maze can have that information moved to the other mouse — without surgery. What they are saying is, if they can combine brain-transfer tech with 3D body printing, you could, in theory, live as long as you want to. Perhaps you’ll find it controversial, but I think it just might help me know my great-great-great-grandchildren and play volleyball with them.

I’m Not Insensitive

Look, I know there are true and real issues, like illness and injuries, that many of you face. I was approached by a woman at the convention who was living through horrific chemo treatments and was not yet out of the woods. I don’t in any way mean to make light of the situations you or your family or friends may be going through.

But I also don’t entirely trust traditional MDs. I’ve read about a lot of new technology in use today for various issues that my own doctor is not even aware of. Though there is a lot of untrue stuff selling hope on the Internet, there is also a chance to research and find legit solutions. New things take time to be adopted, and many MDs want to be cautious and make sure the science supports it.

Boundless Energy

People ask me where my energy comes from, because I tend to walk fast, get up early and stay up late, and manage to crush through a lot of work and some very long convention or painting event days at things like my Publisher’s Invitational in the Adirondacks or Fall Color Week or my Russian Art Tour.

Frankly, I used to fall asleep in my chair after dinner every night and I lacked energy. Switching to a vegan diet, eliminating all grains from my life, and juicing greens every morning have a lot to do with my energy. I also see a nutritionist every year to adjust my supplements. Oh, I still see my MD, and I make sure I get my key vitals and heart checked frequently. Plus I’m at the gym an hour every weekday, doing weights and cardio. But I don’t want you to think for a second that I’m pushing this on you. Everyone has to find what works for them.

So Much to Do, So Little Time

I may be proven wrong in all of this, but at least I’m fooling myself into thinking I can play a role in extending my life. After all, there is much to be done, and I’ll need a lot of time to do everything I want to do.

Many of you reading this are of an age where you need to reconsider your thought patterns and the behavior that supports your energy level and health. Chances are a lot of things your MD says cannot be reversed can be reversed.

Others are a long way from it, but it’s best to understand it now so that you’ll be ready when you do face it.

Hello … You’re Dead

I’m big on watching what I put into my mind. My friend Kaye and I were on the phone one day and she was telling me about caring for a friend of ours who is dying of cancer. She said, “I’m not sure how much longer I can take this. I work a full day in my company and then I work hours on his care. This is killing me. “

I stopped her and said, “Kaye, for your own benefit, please don’t use the words, ‘This is killing me.’ Your subconscious will pick up on that.’

She then scolded me for telling her about this positive-thinking BS.

Kaye died the next day.

Do not feed your mind things that trigger dying. Feed your mind to trigger life … long, healthy life.

It may sound like positive-thinking BS, but there is a lot of recent evidence to support it.

Most importantly, ask yourself what you believe and what you’re telling yourself and if it’s supporting what you need to get done before your time comes.

A friend of mine asks himself every year, “What am I doing that is not supporting my ability to live a strong, healthy, long life?” Whatever he comes up with, he quits.

He quit smoking.
He quit eating meat.
He quit eating dairy.
He quit sitting around and started taking walks.
He quit gluten.

Forgive me if I’m preaching. I only want the best for you.

Your mission for this week?

• Maybe ask yourself what you’re doing that does not support your longevity.
• Catch yourself. Every time you make an OPR (Old Person’s Reference), set off a mental buzzer and say, “That’s unlike me to think that.” And please stop uttering words like, “I’m getting old,” or “I’m old.” Old is a relative term, and with the new technology today, you might not even be halfway there.
• Be careful about other mind-altering words, like, “I can’t take this anymore. This is killing me.”

Have a great week. Thanks for sharing coffee with me this morning.

This morning as I sit here on the back porch, I’m watching a mama sparrow bringing food to her babies in a nest tucked into the rafters of our porch. The little birds are learning to fly. I’m watching them hop from the nest to the blades of our ceiling fan and then on to the branches of the stately oaks in the back yard. As they jump, they first fall before they engage their wings, which then propel them to the next branch. If they forget to use their wings, which they do from time to time, they hit the ground, then shake it off, hop to a branch, and start over. Birds learn like we all learn. Trial and error.

Young Sparrows Floundering

Watching these young sparrows, I think back to my own jumping from the nest, forgetting to use my wings, and crashing to the ground. My mistakes were often catastrophic, and there were times when I didn’t think I could get up again and shake it off. Yet, once the feeling of being stunned by failure faded, I found new energy somewhere deep inside and got the guts to try flying once again.

Decades to Learn Important Lessons

Unlike sparrows, we humans often take decades to learn important lessons. For me, it took that long to learn the most important principle of business and life, which completely changed how I do everything. It involves four little words, which, if sought out, will transform you.

What if I told you that four words could make a difference in your life, your career, and how you approach the ways you offer your product or service? What if I told you that it’s something you’ve probably heard, but ignored?

Looking back, I’d also heard this. It seemed too easy, and it never really gelled for decades. But since I started doing it, I’ve seen my life completely changed.

A Rude Awakening

It started exactly five years ago, when my radio magazine, Radio Ink, celebrated its 20th anniversary. It was bittersweet. I loved that we had survived 20 years, but looking back, I had not achieved what I had wanted to achieve. I had not hit my goals. I felt as though I had only gotten one year of experience — 20 times.

I was faced with a decision. Keep doing exactly what I’ve been doing and risk the next 20 years being equally unproductive, or make some changes in my life and my approach.
The easy thing would have been to remain comfortable and not mess with the status quo. But I knew in my heart that something had to change. I was not someone who wanted to “coast.”

Misplaced Arrogance

My wife suggested I attend a Dave Ramsey EntreLeadership course she had heard about on the radio. My first reaction: “What can they teach me? After all, I’ve been a CEO for more than two decades.” Then I realized how arrogant that statement was. So I attended.

At the event I learned a lot of new things, and I was reminded of some core principles I had forgotten.

A Spirit of Generosity

But the most important thing I took home was when Dave Ramsey said, “Operate your business with a spirit of generosity. Don’t be the kind of business that only takes. Instead, find out how generous you can be, and live it with everything you do.”

When I made this switch in my head and communicated it to my team, everything started to change.

Additionally, over the last five years I’ve attended probably a dozen or more training events, and I’ve joined two different mastermind groups with other business owners where we share information. The common theme among them all? Everything you do should be about changing the world and making people’s lives better.

Changing Lives

So we started making everything we do about changing lives and making lives better. It gave us a much bigger mission and something we could all get excited about.

We also picked a charity and started giving a part of our profits to that charity every year, which helped us have a common purpose beyond what we were doing for our readers, advertisers, and clients. I’m not one who wants to flaunt charitable giving to enhance our corporate image, but I will say that our giving has helped a lot of people less fortunate than ourselves.

Our entire focus has been on giving generously.

Recently, at the Plein Air Convention in San Diego, I encountered hundreds of people who told us that we’ve changed their lives because of the things we’ve done to help people discover painting, help them learn to be better painters, and help them market their paintings.

When you hear the words “You’ve changed my life,” you know your mission is on the right road.

Those are the four words to live by … and live for.

Living to Hear “You Changed My Life”

I live to hear those words, and I strive to make everything I do change lives, whether it’s education through our magazines, or opportunity through our painting retreats, or helping people discover painting and refine their skills through our videos or conventions.

If everything you do can impact others in a positive way and they tell you, “You’ve changed my life,” you’ve done more than create a business or an enterprise or an ideal life. You’ve had an impact that can be lasting.

The principle works. When you put the needs of others first, and you generously live to serve others, you will hear these golden words that are a sign that you’re on the right path.

Thanks for sharing coffee with me this morning. Your mission for this week? Stop and think about what you do that can change lives. Stop and think about the feedback you’ve received and the moments people have said, “You changed my life.”

Healing Paintings

My friend Charles H. White once told me of a woman who bought a painting of his to look at all day from bed while she was dealing with chemo treatments. She told him that his painting got her through it, gave her hope, and helped her see a better tomorrow.

Your paintings, too, can change lives, whether brightening a day or transporting the viewer to a special place or memory. Or you can teach others to do it. After all, learning to paint reduces stress and allows us to forget the rough spots in our lives for the hours we’re at the easel.

I hope you have a great Sunday and a fabulous week. Remember to try making everything about others this week.