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Finding My Own North Star

1/31/2014

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There’s this dude that works at my local post office named Henry. Henry definitely isn’t the fastest postal worker. The truth is that the young lady who works next to him can usually blow through about five postal patrons in the time it takes old Henry to finish up with one. The crazy thing is that although the line is very long, no one ever complains or even grumbles. What you do hear are giggles, chuckles, a few snorts and even the occasional belly laugh. It seems that instead of the usual mundane post office waiting line, the lucky taxpayers of my little town have Henry and his Going Postal Comedy Review. One minute he’s dressing down a customer for improper packaging while completely rewrapping the item for them and next, he’s giving a lecture on the legal power of the postmark, not to mention that after violently shaking your package, he proceeds to ask if you’ve included anything fragile. Followed by a five minute dissertation on all of the possible prohibited substances you might have ignorantly included in your shipment following each one up with the question “Are You Sure?” and a skeptical smile.

After many enjoyable visits to the post office, I concluded that Henry is a man who truly loves his job and that got me to contemplating my own career choices. As many of you know, I spent ten wonderful years performing the duties of Entertainment Director for Paradise Lakes Resort. I went to work every morning excited at the prospect of handing out drink chips to that day’s nude shuffleboard champions. In the latter part of my tenure at Paradise, my son was born and this new found responsibility made me think I should pursue a somewhat more “acceptable” career path. Since I had a little computer experience from producing the event fliers for Paradise, I decided I would go back to school to become a systems engineer. That one decision not only provided the income and stability I needed to help support my son, but turned what was a pleasant hobby into a dreaded job.

As my son reached adulthood, the shackles of doing a joyless job were wearing me down. Somehow my amazingly intuitive girlfriend picked up on my feelings of career dissatisfaction, (maybe it had something to do with the fact that each evening after work I would go running for the shelter of my Walter’s little helper), so she devised a secret plot. As I was shaving one morning, she told me that she had read about an upcoming five day writer’s seminar called “The Comedian’s Way” at some yoga retreat center located up in the Berkshires and asked if I would be interested in going. She proceeded to read the short description and it really sounded appealing to me. I have always been a fan of stand-up comedy and I could damn well use some help with my writing skills. After I accepted the idea, she mentioned that she had also signed us up to stay for the weekend seminar with someone named Martha Beck.

The writer’s workshop turned out to be an absolute blast. I got to work on my comedic timing while telling all my goofy old stories to a captive audience of very funny folks that I believe will turn out to be lifetime friends.  After our last hilarious dinner together, it was my turn to do what she wanted to do, so picture this: I’m sitting cross legged on a yoga pillow with about 300 women and only two other (obviously tricked into going) men.  A thin little woman named Martha Beck stepped onto the platform and the ladies in the audience start to lose it. You would have thought that The Beatles or even Jesus had just hit the stage.  

After I listened to her speak for a while, it all came back to me where I had read that name before. Oprah.  My amazingly tricky girlfriend had one trick up her sleeve that she loved to play on me quite frequently. She knew that I would rather have my eyes put out with a hot poker than to read Oprah magazine, so she would set a copy next to the toilet opened to a story she knew I would be interested in and the trap would be set. I would be so taken with the article that I would close the magazine in order to find out the name of this incredible publication only to find Oprah smiling back at me as if she was in on the deception.  


Martha was entertaining enough to distract me and I began to realize that not only did I agree with what she was saying, it seemed to physically ring true to me. I could actually feel her words resonate at a core level and that was something I had never experienced. During the seminar, Martha kept referring to ladies in the audience as her coaches, so on the trip back home, I asked my amazingly perceptive girlfriend what she meant by “coaches”.  As she explained, she smiled as if she had just hooked the tournament winning fish. She proceeded to play a recording of a conference call introducing people to the Martha Beck Life Coach Training program and by the end of that call, I was indeed hooked. I looked over at my amazingly intelligent girlfriend and said, “This is what I’m supposed to do.” As I uttered those seven little words, I set in motion the beginning of the rest of my life and it literally felt as if the heavy metal shackles of my unauthentic life had just dropped away.

I’m now about one third of the way through learning how to be a coach, and I’m putting together an awesome set of tools. If any of you out there reading this are feeling like I was about your career or any of your life choices, please feel free to shoot an email to wali@thegratefuldude.com  and I’ll do my best to help you discover the path to your authentic life. Until next time, listen to what your body is trying to tell you and find your Authentic Dude.



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    About Wali,
    The Grateful Dude

    In my formative years, I was lucky enough to attend an amazing high school modeled after the freedom school from the Billie Jack films. The curriculum included outdoor education, pottery and organic farming and emphasized values like creativity, self awareness and a strong sense of community. I spent several summers traveling from show to show with The Grateful Dead and found that not only could I beat the crap out of a plastic bucket in a drum circle, I was also quite the imported beer salesman. My early career started off in the eighties driving limousine for posers, drug dealers and wannabe rock stars in Los Angeles. In the late eighties, I was introduced to the former owner of Paradise Lakes Nudist Resort who had just seduced and proposed to my roommate while she was on vacation in Florida. Fred took me aside one afternoon  and told me, “I like you, kid and since I’m taking your roommate and I’m pretty sure you can’t afford this beach rental on your own, why not come on out to Florida? I’ll find you a place to stay, give you a job and you’ll be surrounded by naked women”. So I loaded up my truck and moved to Paradise. Lakes, that is. Swimmin’ pools. Porno stars. (insert banjo solo here).

    I wake up every morning (well almost every morning) knowing that today is a wonderful gift to be unwrapped and explored. I believe that every day is filled with limitless possibilities and endless abundance. I’m convinced that our true purpose in life is to interact with our fellow beings and give witness to this amazing universe that surrounds us.

    If you are searching for miracles in life, you need go no farther than your backyard to realize that we are living in the midst of the greatest miracle of all.

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