Is there a good time for your refrigerator to die?


On Sunday morning, I woke up, zombie walked into the kitchen and could hear the refrigerator straining a little harder to keep itself cool.

I walked closer, thought, “Something is wrong.” I double checked the doors. They seemed to be shut. So I thought, crisis averted.

I peered back into the door and up at the temperature reading, and it was in the high 40s. It’s supposed to read 37 or so.

The freezer was reading well into the 30s. This sucks!

“Somebody left the door open. Probably Tina! And now we’re screwed!” I thought. Obviously the only culprit in the house for leaving open the door is her. But all will be okay, now.

So I went about my routine. Brewed a French Press of coffee. Did my morning mediation and stretch. Followed that with a warm cup of coffee and my journaling session. Mentally prepared for my Sunday work out.

Throughout the day, the refrigerator didn’t cool down. The temperatures rose. The ice melted. Everything defrosted. All our fridge items were souring. Not only is this bad timing in general, but we’re on the Whole30 diet which centers itself around pre-preparing parts or entire meals, so our entire freezer and fridge are dedicated to Whole30 success.

Around 8:30 that night, we panicked.

“Our refrigerator is dead. We need a new one. Our whole30 is at stake!” We exclaimed in bizarre unison.

Before bed, I filled drawers with snow from our porch and put in some of our more delicate groceries. I left as much as I could on the porch to freeze in the 10 degree temps.

In bed, we ordered a new $2000 refrigerator from Home Depot. The earliest delivery was Thursday or Friday. We chose Friday because we had an interiors job on Thursday. Tina had one of those “I’m a psychic. Thursday will postpone. I just know it.” I doubted her. “We can’t bank on your special powers of intuition.” So we went with Friday (a full five nights away!).

I’m a skeptic and she’s the damn goddess of prediction. 

Monday morning, our nightmare was still reality. We got a text that our thursday job postponed (Tina did the “I was right!” dance). I called my dad to ask him for advice. “Should I call a repairman or do you think this thing is dead?”

“If you can get it repaired,” he said, ” You could get another few years of life out of the thing, and not spend $1500 or more bucks, the better…”

I couldn’t help but feel guilty about throwing a 500lb piece of Millennium Falcon junk out because it happened to stop working and might be fixable. Tina and I went back and forth and thought, “This thing has been on the fritz. It’s dead. No dice. Let’s buy a new one.”

NEW STUFF IS FUN!

Tina went online to find a retailer with an earlier delivery date. I jumped in the car to pick up our studio mini fridge to use in the interim and run some other errands.

A text showed up while I was out that said, “I think the refrigerator is cooling off again. Am I crazy?”

I called. Sure enough, we were looking at the rough, metallic equivalent of a technological resurrection. Our fridge was Jesus’ing a Lazarus. Or vice versa.

It looks like we had  left a door open and it froze up its coils. The fridge shut itself down for 24 hours to thaw.

So for about 24 hours, Tina and I wasted a bunch of time troubleshooting a broken fridge that wasn’t broken. We’d like to thank the academy for our performance of freaking out. And for all your support during this time of stress and need, we appreciated your incessant prayers and positive vibes.

Oh, you didn’t send prayers? that’s weird. How did this fridge start working again, then?

What kind of Twilight Zone do we live in!?!

 

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“It is vain to do with more what can be done with less.” Thank you, Mr. Ockham


When it comes to gear envy, the struggle is real. I’m a photographer, and if it’s shiny, and someone’s gushing over it, or it’s $200 off retail, or its promise is to make my life easier, better, more productive, I want it.

Want.It.

Crave it.

Obsess over it.

Some people look at porn like I look at new gear.

Just yesterday, there was an ad on my favorite camera store’s web site, B&H Photo & Video. It was for a light. A hot light. One that stays on all the time. And I wanted it. It was LED. New. Brand new tech. I stared at it for 15 minutes. Twenty minutes. There were no reviews, so I googled it to see if anyone on the internet had one and was reviewing them.

No luck.

So I googled comparable lights. When there’s one company making a light, that means someone else started it first. I found all kinds of information, but said and done, I don’t really need this light. It’s not going to make me go out and shoot more. Although, I want to believe that having more tools in my arsenal would somehow make my life soooooo much easier.

Said and done, keep it simple, stupid. Take it easy, Azizi.

That quote above from Mr. William Ockham (Occam) is a good reminder. For a long time, I use to reference Ockham and his razor when discussing religion. His razor is a problem-solving principle that, when presented with competing hypothetical answers to a problem, one should select the one that makes the fewest assumptions.

Because you know what happens when you assume. 

There’s also a quote that I found in Tim Ferriss’ Tribe of Mentors with a similar tone:

“Learning to ignore things is one of the great paths to inner peace.” –Robert J. Sawyer Hugo

Lately, I’ve had to eschew some news, even NPR, for the sake of peace. Like you and you, but not you, I’ve been Trumped to bits. Trump trump trump trump trump. Trump.

There’s not a corner you can turn in this media diet market when his name isn’t the focus or mentioned. In stories ranging from world markets to kitties stuck in trees, Trump. In stories about flu to venereal disease, Trump. Not even porn is safe anymore.

“The world is a vampire.” Thanks Billy Corgan. 

On top of my Whole30 diet, I’ve had to really take stock of the media I’m consuming lately. I needed to just take a step back and review what I’m reading, and how it’s affecting me.

This conversation I had a while back keeps playing in my head. It was about reading “both sides” of the issues. It was about balancing “liberal” web sites with “conservative” ones.

This person I was talking to said that Matt Drudge was left-leaning, and I almost spit out my turkey and stuffing. “Drudge is as conservative as it gets.”

“No,” sayest my friend, “He links to New York Times and other liberal sites.”

“Linking to those sites does not make the liberal.”

Clearly, it takes very little effort to see the bias of Matt Drudge, or any blog or website. His slant is clearly pro Trump, pro Republican, and anti Liberal.

If you don’t take my word for it (I’m not talking about you, because the whole world knows except this one fella), but take his word: “I am a conservative. I’m very much pro-life. If you go down the list of what makes up a conservative, I’m there almost all the way.”[38]

My point is: if you (or I) do not recognize something simple, how can we work from a level playing field. How can we discuss, say Politics, if we don’t recognize resources as what they are or are not?

If we’re sitting around celebrating NPR as the most fair and balanced news source in the world, because they’re neither conservative or liberal, but straight down the middle of excellent journalism, then we both suffer from the worst case of the Delusions that the world has seen.

That’s like reading Breitbart or WND and thinking, “I’m doing myself a favor!”

As I near the 30 day mark on my Whole30 diet — or reset — I’ve also had to revisit and diet from my media consumption. The stuff/words/food we put in our body is clearly going to affect how we view the world, our place in it, how we feel about it.

I’m going to do my part to encourage others, but I’m starting with me. And little old me feels fucking GREAT right now. Better than I’ve ever felt.

Amanda Palmer sings the hits


jeremywitteveenrocknroll-24.jpg

A portrait I took of Amanda Palmer in 2016. 

“In both the art and the business worlds, the difference between the amateurs and the professionals is simple: The professionals know they’re winging it. The amateurs pretend they’re not.”
Amanda Palmer, The Art of Asking; or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Let People Help

I’ve been reading Amanda Palmer’s book, The Art of Asking” thanks to a recommendation by my new little adopted sister Aynsley. She’s the daughter of my college mentor and she recently moved here from Michigan to pursue a career in esthetics.

When recommending the book, I told Aynsley I photographed Palmer a few years back. She was all, “NO WAY! I am one degree away from Amanda Palmer. I think I’m going to throw up.”

She wrote that if she had a religion it would be Amanda Palmer. And now after reading a good bit of her book, I get it. Amanda Palmer is rich with a good honest kick in the teeth. She reminds us that vulnerability and honesty is key to creative exploration and execution. Secrecy and shame are the Devils that suppress art and kill self exploration.

And, I hate to write it, but in a world where women don’t have nearly the presence in the art world as they should, Amanda Palmer is a tour de force of originality and motivating presence!

I watched Palmer’s TedTalk back when I photographed her. She’s an inspiration for sure. She’s super creative and tends to fly under radars while having the biggest following you never knew about.

That quote above. That shit about knowing and not knowing. That shit is true. And it’s not until I embraced the insecurity that I started feeling like there was art in winging it, art in chaos, art in vulnerability, art in acceptance.

Yesterday, I was on set with an amazing crew photographing a lovely model for a new mattress company. I had my gear out everywhere. I setup lights and mods, and my equipment was spread out from the bedroom to the bathroom, down a hall and into a bedroom. I leave lenses all over the place, all uncapped and exposed.

And when we walk away, we magically get beautiful photos. But in the act, damn, I feel like the world is a chaotic as it can be.

And you know what, I love it and hate it. I’d much rather know exactly what gear I need. Not leave gear out to be stepped on or knocked over. But I love it at the same time. It’s a weird presence that I bring. It’s me. And I accept that.

Over the last few years, I’ve suffered from mental challenges of fear and creativity paralyzation like no other time in my life. I amplified levels of shame and dishonesty in ways that I’m discovering don’t make any sense.

There tends to be an ebb and flow within most people for a time of negativity and a time for positivity. I’m enjoying the flow of positivity at the moment. I only hope I can keep it up.

There’s this model I know who has discovered her own, let’s say, religion. I’m really not sure if that’s accurate. Her name is Nasreen Ameri, and she calls her idea Carrorism, an extension of the made-up word “Carror” which she defines as the opposite of “Terror.”

On Facebook, she’s been posting positive quotes and pictures of what appear to be hearts she finds everywhere in the world, in cracks in the pavement, in oil spots on the road, in the way food is shaped on her plate.

How cool is it to look for love in everything, even things we find as inanimate as pavement.

I’m not necessarily going to call myself a Carrorist. But I love when positive people influence me with thoughts of wonder and intrigue. When the build while destroying. Isn’t that what it’s about? Creating one thing while eschewing something else? You can’t be both lazy and productive. So when you concentrate on art, you are also demolishing zombism, paralytic fear, shame, doubt, dishonesty and war.

Or maybe I’m missing the point all together. I need to go think on this a while.

Keep it Simple, Stupid!


Around our house, Keep It Simple Stupid has become a repeated phrase.

I tend to complicate things. Or my mind does, anyway. I try to document our experiences on camera, and often I try to say too too much. Or if I tell a story, I dip into no man’s land when it’s completely superfluous.

When simplicity is best, I’ll hear Tina call out from an adjoining room, “Keep It Simple, Stupid!”

This morning I thought I would come up with and start using its acronym, “KISS!”

Come to find out, lots of people follow a variation of this rule.

I just read in Tribe of Mentors that one of my favorite directors Robert Rodriguez has a saying “Fácil!” when things get too muddied with dumb, self-imposed (or otherwise) complication.

Another writer named Elen Ghulam likes to quote her father for saying, “Take it easy, ya azizi!” Azizi is arabic for “dear.” And it rhymes with Easy!

In other words, take the complications out. Lose the stress. If something is super tough, look at it as easy and go after it like a cowboy on the back of a horse wrangling a calf. If you’re like me, you’ve been doing your art for years and years. So you’ve completed the act of execution a zillion times. Don’t forget that because your facing some new project.

And even if you’re a young, budding artist, remember to KISS all things complicated.

For example, Tina and I had an art date the other night. She found a drawing tutorial on a horse head. The first time she drew it, she looked at it and thought, this sucks. I said, “Draw it again. You’ll do much better.”

She did, and she was much happier with the second attempt. Had she tried a third, it would have been better still.

The first time you do something, it’s tough and has to turn out shitty.” The second time and every subsequent time, that’s art. Art is repetition of the same (or very fucking similar) act of creating.

I’ve grilled hundred and hundreds of steaks. I get close to really good, but it’s only because I keep trying to perfect the process.

I’ve taken zillions of pictures and portraits, but that doesn’t mean I’m not still rethinking execution. So many ingredients stay the same (lights, camera, light modifiers), but things change (people, place, placement of camera/lights, etc).

Do your art or arts over and over and over and over and over. And then do them over again. It’s time + experience + repetition = Keeping It Simple, Stupid!

Ha.

Another thing about the book that reminded me to KISS was that so so so many of the respondents, when asked what they did to clear the mind or when they become unfocused, the two answers that stuck out to me were: 1) take a walk and 2) meditate.

These are two, relatively simple actions that I feel were flying way way way under my radar. I do both. Not for clearing the mind or regaining focus (not on purpose). But I see how being cognizant of the two as enriching activities is a very positive influencer and time spender.

So Keep It Simple, Stupids! Or scream “Fácil!” or “Take it easy, you azizi!”

Hugs. Not Dee-rugs!

 

Are you scared to death? Good!


From The War of Art by Steven Pressfield:

“If you find yourself asking yourself (and your friends), “Am I really a writer? Am I really an artist?” chances are you are. The counterfeit innovator is wildly self-confident. The real one is scared to death.”

And another:

“Are you paralyzed with fear? That’s a good sign. Fear is good. Like self-doubt, fear is an indicator. Fear tells us what we have to do. Remember one rule of thumb: the more scared we are of a work or calling, the more sure we can be that we have to do it.”

Every time I create something or I complete something, the fear of sharing it is so terrifying, it’s crazy.

Primarily if it weren’t for Tina’s encouragement and cheerleading, I probably wouldn’t share any of my work. I wouldn’t try to create vLogs or even blogs.

Then there are inadvertent encouragers. There are people on Facebook and other social media who put their work out, publish it, share it all the time. They have way more likes than I do. Way more followers than I do. And all these factors create a bubble of fear, indecision, paralysis, and depression.

I’m 42 years old. Until I was about 38, I vowed never to call myself an artist. Calling self an artist is either validated by some form of success or it’s hackneyed nomenclature.

And then something clicked. Calling myself an artist became a necessity. It became a battle over fear and rejection, self-doubt and self fulfillment. If I don’t call myself it, I will never be it. If I don’t accept it, despite doing art since I can remember … waiting until I’m dead won’t help.

And then there’s social media.

I’ve had a long love hate relationship with social media, this blog, Facebook, Instagram, twitter, etc. This blog used to be somewhat popular. Now it’s not. I don’t care. Now is my time to revitalize. To do, not say. To take back what was mine. To look forward. Not back.

I have to mind the cues I get that sharing work on social media is somehow going to make me a Rembrandt or Degas or Van Gogh or any other so-called successful artist. That’s not what it is. The dopamine thrill of “one more like.” Nope. The perception of success is bullshit. Success is start to finish. Success is developing an idea, executing it, and then, sharing it. Over and over and over and over and over and over.

“I finished X,” declares the artist. “Time to celebrate?” asks the artist?

“No time to celebrate,” responds the mentor. “It’s time to start Y,” says the mentor.

The likes and approvals of others aren’t the reason for sharing, it’s the process. Everything that came before sharing is what makes happiness and fulfillment. Whether people like it or not, that shouldn’t always be the goal. Although the voices in our heads often try to convince us of that.

I’ll leave you with this other quote from Pressfield:

“Fear is good. Like self-doubt, fear is an indicator. Fear tells us what we have to do.

Remember our rule of thumb: The more scared we are of a work or calling, the more sure we can be that we have to do it.

Resistance is experienced as fear; the degree of fear equates to the strength of Resistance. Therefore the more fear we feel about a specific enterprise, the more certain we can be that that enterprise is important to us and to the growth of our soul. That’s why we feel so much Resistance. If it meant nothing to us, there’d be no Resistance.”

Wait, genius means what?


A couple nights ago, I read Steven Pressfield’s the War of Art. I flew through it. It’s as inspiring as any concert, any museum, any art gallery I’ve ever been to.

The crux of the book is to discuss the obstacles that prevent creativity or the pursuit of a goal and inspire, encourage, warn, man-splain … how that person should jump off the woe is me train and onto the Airbus/space shuttle/galaxy destroyer of creativity …

I haven’t been this inspired in a long time.

Gosh, I remember as a kid going to church and feeling like I should be inspired by church sermons. And sometimes I took nuggets here or there. But never did I feel wow’d by sermon speak. If anything, you’d think that after an hour of so-called “uplifting music” and “biblical encouragements,” I’d leave church and feel heavenly and refreshed. Those were feelings I was supposed to feel. And I was good at faking them. But bored, guilty and shame, maybe, those were emotions I walked away with. I was rarely inspired.

But this book, holy shit!

Maybe it’s the Whole30 diet and the clarity it’s giving me. Maybe it’s reading it on the coattails of Tribe of Mentors. But holy damn. I love this book and want everyone to read it and love it.

Pressfield describes the antithesis of art as “resistance.” Anything that prevents you from doing you: resistance.

This makes total sense to me.

He discusses the origin of the word genius, which is not necessarily a person who is superior in his accomplishments because they make everyone else look un-genius. According to wiki:

In ancient Rome, the genius (plural in Latin genii) was the guiding spirit or tutelary deity of a person, family (gens), or place (genius loci).[3] The noun is related to the Latin verbgenui, genitus, “to bring into being, create, produce”, as well as to the Greek word for birth.[4]

“To bring into being, create, produce.” That is powerful stuff. In no other time in history have we had so many ways to, not only create and produce, but share it. And in my world, I’ve got a fire under my ass to not only create and produce but share. This takes focus, organization and deliberate attention to ambition and accomplishment.

It takes recognizing that Resistance is the asshole who wants to stand in my way, and doing everything but being polite to get Resistance out of the way.

Pressfield writes:

“A writer writes with his genius; an artist paints with hers; everyone who creates operates from this sacramental center.”

On this blog in the past, I’ve written several times about thoughts I’ve had that artistry and certain religious beliefs are impossible and incompatible bedfellows. At some point in my career as a student and then as an evolving artist, I kept running into blocks that were religious in nature, and I was forced to let go of religion and replace it with unfettered passion for production of art.

Never have I read someone else who comes close to validating that perspective (emphasis mine).

Pressfield writes:

“The fundamentalist (or, more accurately, the beleaguered individual who comes to embrace fundamentalism) cannot stand freedom. He cannot find his way into the future, so he retreats to the past. He returns in imagination to the glory days of his race and seeks to reconstitute both them and himself in their purer, more virtuous light. He gets back to basics. To fundamentals. Fundamentalism and art are mutually exclusive. There is no such thing as fundamentalist art. This does not mean that the fundamentalist is not creative. Rather, his creativity is inverted. He creates destruction. Even the structures he builds, his schools and networks of organization, are dedicated to annihilation, of his enemies and of himself. But the fundamentalist reserves his greatest creativity for the fashioning of Satan, the image of his foe, in opposition to which he defines and gives meaning to his own life. Like the artist, the fundamentalist experiences Resistance. He experiences it as temptation to sin. Resistance to the fundamentalist is the call of the Evil One, seeking to seduce him from his virtue. The fundamentalist is consumed with Satan, whom he loves as he loves death. Is it coincidence that the suicide bombers of the World Trade Center frequented strip clubs during their training, or that they conceived of their reward as a squadron of virgin brides and the license to ravish them in the fleshpots of heaven? The fundamentalist hates and fears women because he sees them as vessels of Satan, temptresses like Delilah who seduced Samson from his power. To combat the call of sin, i.e., Resistance, the fundamentalist plunges either into action or into the study of sacred texts. He loses himself in these, much as the artist does in the process of creation. The difference is that while the one looks forward, hoping to create a better world, the other looks backward, seeking to return to a purer world from which he and all have fallen.

As a teenager, I followed in the footsteps of the legacy that preceded me. I found solace and love in evangelical things. But I was miserable doing it. When I noticed that all I was doing was finding out what was wrong with everyone else and finding the need to tell everyone else how sinful they lived, it made me into a person with his gaze always fixed on a backwards perspective. Backwards in its different meanings.

As a collegiate, I started seeing more as a progressive and a forward thinker. Every time I looked backward, I became consumed and overcome with excuses for why I wasn’t growing as an artist. When I finally started looking forward, I learned how to pursue dreams. Resistance, though, is awful and wanted me to hold on with clinched fists to the past. So I turned to shitty habits of alcohol or even reading web sites or hanging with people who weren’t helping me look forward.

Right now, I’m a zealot for positivity and for focus. I’m impassioned by creation and for self exploration.

It’s a better vessel for me to ride on. I love it.

I leave you with this last quote, as it says so much about what it means to be an artist.

“The artist committing himself to his calling has volunteered for hell, whether he knows it or not. He will be dining for the duration on a diet of isolation, rejection, self-doubt, despair, ridicule, contempt, and humiliation. The artist must be like that Marine. He has to know how to be miserable. He has to love being miserable. He has to take pride in being more miserable than any soldier or swabbie or jet jockey. Because this is war, baby. And war is hell.”

What do you think? Is it possible to be an artist and a “believer”? What things do you do to remain on task and move around or past obstacles to pursue your goals, art or whatever?

I’ve got the thought munchies for mini advice from strangers.


If you’re reading this blog lately, I’ve been sharing highlighted quotes from Tim Ferriss’ Tribe of Mentors, a collection of responses from many different minds on the same eleven or so questions. It’s an inspiring read.

For this post, I wanted to include a few quotes. These first two deal with finding your art or, perhaps, your purpose.

First, from American Writer on Business Practices Tom Peters in response to advice to students:

They say: “Think big! Have a compelling vision!” I say: Think small. Do something super cool by the end of the day! I write about “excellence.” Most see excellence as some grand aspiration. Wrong. Dead wrong. My two cents: Excellence is the next five minutes or nothing at all. It’s the quality of your next five-minute conversation. It’s the quality of, yes, your next email. Forget the long term. Make the next five minutes rock!

And the second, from writer Keven Kelly:

Don’t try to find your passion. Instead master some skill, interest, or knowledge that others find valuable. It almost doesn’t matter what it is at the start. You don’t have to love it, you just have to be the best at it. Once you master it, you’ll be rewarded with new opportunities that will allow you to move away from tasks you dislike and toward those that you enjoy. If you continue to optimize your mastery, you’ll eventually arrive at your passion.

I loved these two quotes for multiple reasons.

One. Selfishly for moi.

Two. Selfishly for Tina.

Three. For you.

I love to aim at perfection. And sometimes, I fail. Sometimes I fail on purpose, because if everything is “perfect” then one perfection might impede on another part of my schedule, so I need to be choosey about what gets “perfected” and what does not.

But in regards to the first quote, I love how he recommends being passionate about the next five minutes. Sometimes I’m on the phone using my computer. I’m talking to my mom or brother or best friend and I have to slap my own hand from surfing the web or working on a job while talking. And then when I remember that they’re the most important thing, right now, right for the next five or ten minutes, the conversation is better. I’m less distracted and more engaged. I listen with action. I don’t butt in. But my responses are more strategic and productive.

When I try to “think big,” it often paralyses me. For instance, if I try to come up with the best new idea in the world, I retreat into a world of fear. That fear prevents me from doing anything at all. It’s that sisyphean complex of aiming at impossibilities rather than possibilities. Drawing one small picture. Making one small photo. Writing one small page. One meal. One thing at a time. Add them all together and it’s a body of work! Instead of thinking big all the time, think smaller actions that get many good responses rather than one big coup!

Regarding the second quote: In my search for my art, I have had to give up on a lot of passions. I’ve had to find things I love and concentrate on them. I LOVE to draw and make paintings, but I’ve had to let that passion slide over the years and concentrate on others.

I LOVE to cook. And developing cooking has become one of those little things to feel creative on. When you take the time to discover a new recipe, shop to find ingredients (pre-production), assemble ingredients (learning to cut, chop, mix, etc.) complete the meal, serve it and see the face on your audience (of one or many). That to me is art expressed in less than two hours. You can do it daily. And it can fulfill so many inner needs … on so many levels.

We need to eat to live. Many of us need to make art to live.

I’m doing my best to live by the philosophies of Make/Share, Do More and focus. All of these things fit into a small accomplishment zone.

And finally, I’m going to leave on a quote from too-good-to-be-true, French entrepreneur, creator and humanitarian Jérôme Jarre. As I reread it, I realize how my 18-year-old-self would red flag this quote with honking/blinking red lights of woo and blasphemy. My 22-year-old self stumbled on the idea of “mini-gods” as I was doing my senior thesis and became okay with it. My 42-year-old self is completely good with it and inspired by it.

I’m not sure the exact question on this, but let’s say he’s answering advice to students.

A belief: the belief that we are all mini gods. I mean this in the sense of creators, in a way that should not feed our ego but our consciousness. This means the entire universe is not just outside but also within us. We have unlimited power—the power to solve any problems facing us or facing others. We get to create our realities. It’s a simple and small belief, but it can change the course of humanity. Being mini gods means we never lack. We know we already have everything. We don’t need a million dollars. We don’t need a trillion followers. We are complete. We are full. So full that we can give without counting. The day we will all start acting like mini gods is the day there will be peace in the world.

This quote also corresponds with some other woo I have printed next to my computer since last July, which is the abundance thinking bullet list:

  • Believe there is always more where that came from.
  • Share their knowledge, contacts, and compassion with others.
  • Default to trust and build rapport easily.
  • Welcome competition, believing it makes the pie bigger and them better.
  • Ask themselves, How can I give more than is expected?
  • Are optimistic about the future, believing the best is yet to come.
  • Think big, embracing risk.
  • Are thankful and confident.