The secret ingredient to happiness

I will be happy when...insert expectation here...

I will be happy if...insert condition here...

Happiness is not based on expectation or conditions.
Happiness is not an event. Nor is it dependant on the future.

Happiness can only happen in the present.
So what's the secret?
Why does it allude some of us, yet get attracted to others like flies to shit?

I read recently that happiness is a derivative of gratitude. If we recognize all the things in our life and appreciate them, then the crappy stuff that eventually happens will carry less weight on our emotional state.

I take the good things in my life for granted. I think we all do from time to time. It's only when I sit down and take stock that I realize how fortunate I am. Happiness is a drug, like a swig of gin as it creates those good feelings. Unfortunately, like a drug, the more I try to consume, the sicker I get. The more I search for it, the further I stray away from it.

And like crack, each hit is less and less effective- so I'm told...

We all want to be happy. We search for it in the pursuit of things and events. The momentary attainment of events and things can be addictive. It's a hypodermic needle filled with chemicals. Something more addictive than heroine and harder to find than a two peckered billy goat. The happiness drug is dopamine. And dopamine is created by our brains.

I know this sounds stupid, but happiness cannot be found. It's a state of being. It's a choice.

When you're hungry, you eat.
When the happiness tank is empty, you fill it with dopamine fuelled by gratitude.

If happiness is inside of us then it will be where you are, when you're ready to receive it.

I conducted a personal happiness experiment recently. Every morning, I took a minute to think about all the good things in my life. Then at supper, before the kids scoffed down their food, we had a gratitude moment. At first the kids thought it was stupid. We didn't know what to say, so we'd say the first thing that came to our minds. To get more original in my answers, I started to notice the small pleasures in life so I could share them at supper.

As I paid more attention to the small things, I caught myself giggling multiple times a day.

I dropped my phone and it didn't break.
A friend bought me lunch.
The insurance is going to pay for the damages to my pool.
A friend asked for my business advice.
My son gave me a hug this morning.
The whole family went fishing together.
Mom told me she loved me today.
I was speeding and the cops flashed their lights but didn't pull me over.
I learned something new.

And then the best one...
I was drinking a breakfast smoothie in the car, when a dollop of yogurt escaped the top end of the straw and strayed downward toward my clean white shirt. I was all dressed up for an important meeting and was scared to look down. To my amazement, the liquid landed perfectly on the shoulder harness of my seatbelt. It never touched my shirt. I was saved, giggled and thanked God for his gracious generosity.

I challenge you to go on your own personal gratitude journey. For the next 21 days, write down three things that happens for which you are grateful.  Read them out loud before you go to bed and when you wake up. Then look all day for three new things you can write at the end of that day. And repeat for 20 more days.

You'll surprise yourself.

You'll be happy you did it.

What are you feeding yourself

What do you eat in the morning?
What about over a week?

Have you ever written down every last thing you put into your mouth over a seven day period?

Garbage in, garbage out.

I am not in great shape. For the past five months I have missed only three days of exercise. I'm proud to say that even in those three missed days, I doubled up the workout the following day.

Why am I doing it?
I don't like my weight.
I think I could stand to lose another 25 pounds.

It's not that I'm overweight.

My over-fit friend says that weight is lost in the kitchen, not in the gym.

I lost 15 pounds from the workouts, but it's been two months that I'm hovering around the same weight.

I think I eat pretty healthy.

But there is something I must be doing wrong.

I started monitoring everything that went from fingers to mouth.

Holy shit.

That's my problem.

I am treating myself too many times a week. It's ok to treat yourself, just not everyday.

When I wrote everything down, I was getting a treat everyday like a little dog that didn't pee on the floor.

Now apply that same thinking to what you're listening to, watching on TV and reading.

How much TV do you watch? You probably don't watch a lot. But write every hour down, including the show, the time. If you have the TV on in the background while you're cooking, that counts. Count how much TV you watch a week. How much of it is educational? Dr. Oz and Dr. Phil doesn't count as educational. They are informational, but their hooks are still based on entertainment.

Do you read? What are you reading? Facebook status updates don't count...

Do you listen to radio DJ's laughing and telling jokes, nonstop commercials trying to sell you shit, or do you listen to instructional audiobooks on your way to work?

What are you feeding your brain?

It's ok to treat yourself, just not everyday.
Are you treating yourself too many times a week?

Garbage in, garbage out - just like food.
Guaranteed...

One degree of separation from an icon

If you know me, you are now one degree of separation from Seth Godin.

Let me explain.

I don't really know Seth. He has written a number of books. Every one of them iconic in its own right. I was having a conversation with a friend about a business idea. Part of the strategy is to partner with an iconic brand, like a Seth Godin.

I googled him and found his website. Low and behold, his website had his email address. It says that he answers his own mail, but he doesn't answer all of them.

So now my challenge was to write something interestingly enough that Seth finds the time to respond.

And he does.

I got a message from Seth Freakin' Godin. That's how I actually addressed him in my correspondence.

His response was straight and to the point. But who cares. I feel like one of those teenage girls who was shaking when the John, Paul, George and Ringo show stepped off the plane in 1964 from a trip to New York.

Godin-mania is now in my bloodstream.

Please forgive me. But I just got a response from one of my heroes. I'm feeling a bit giddy...

Do you have someone you look up to?
Do you have someone you would like to talk to, but don't know where to start?
What if you could give a world leader a piece of your mind?

The internet will eventually make everyone accessible. It will take some time for the old doggies to die off - you know, those who hide behind assistants, private emails, and social media managers. More and more, they are becoming available to us.

Change is being embraced.

And I love it. The world is getting smaller and smarter. And we all can benefit from it if we decide to.

What are you telling yourself

Do you ever hear your inner voice? The one that doubts your skills, your abilities and your dreams.

I catch mine telling me I'm not good enough, I'm not worthy enough, I'm not smart enough, I'm not young enough. And I hate him for saying those things.

In a point of vulnerability, I tend to agree with him. And that drags me down. It stops my momentum. It slows my growth. And it hurts my feelings.

When I'm strong, I tell him to shut the F up. It's not always easy because the voice is "me". He's always sitting on my shoulder feeding me with lies.

If you ever have the same problem I have, here's how to shut him up.

Stay strong. Start doing things. Pick up the phone. Talk to people. Sell your idea.
When no one wants what you're selling, go back and find out if the idea is bad or if the potential client is just not the right fit.

Keep digging holes like a gold prospector. There's gotta be gold in them there hills. You just haven't found it yet.

The key is to put your head down and work. Learn to ask the right questions to your prospects. Listen. And then make sure your product or service fills that need. If it doesn't, it may be time to shelf and start a new. The IT startup world calls this a pivot.

It exists with every idea.

Confidence comes from doing the work.
Lack of confidence comes from sitting at home and contemplating about doing work.
Self doubt always shows up when confidence dwindles.

If you don't want to listen to the bastard telling you you're not good enough, keep your confidence up by going to work.

You're not just good enough. You're awesome. Keep going. You'll find success if you impose the Test, Measure, Refine loop into your daily work.

As a 13 year old boy, I planted a seed of doubt into my mom's head. She wanted to be an entrepreneur, but her oldest baby knew enough to be dangerous.

Self doubt is the biggest killer of dreams. Don't let it kill yours.

Stay confident. Keep working.

The night I almost died

Tasting alcohol for the very first time, I was about 16 years old. My mom was gone to bingo and my dad was having a beer, watching TV, when he asked if I wanted a beer. My virgin taste buds weren't ready for the explosion of bitterness that bombarded them.

I emptied the beer down the bathroom drain trying not to disappoint my dad and trying to still uphold my youthful masculinity.

In overcoming the taste challenge, I quickly developed a desire for alcohol.

The age to legally consume alcohol in my province is 19. I was drinking for a few years prior to the nineteenth birthday as most young people do. But at 19, I could legally buy my own booze. I could legally get into the clubs. No more faking, no more sneaking. On January 27, 1992, I was now legit.

As with most, the coming of age requires a party. My eventful day fell on a Monday. Monday is not normally a busy night for the clubs, but this Monday was different. One club in town was selling draught beer for 25 cents a piece. A perfect price for a young university student on a tight budget looking to celebrate his adulthood.

My friends promised to get me smashed. We started with a couple of rounds of shooters at the university bar, which I happily pounded back, without any regard to pace, taste, or price. Not wanting to pay a cover charge for my winter jacket, I had run to the bar from my dorm room, which was only a few hundred yards away.

While at the university pub, the bartender told us about the beer special at the other club. All seven of us, piled into a cab and continued our adventure to the more lively, cheap watering hole on this cold, January Monday.

I was already drunk when I left the first bar. My friends promised to keep me going and told me that everything was on them. Not having any money, I just went along for the ride.

It sounded like a good idea at the time. Famous last words.

The pitchers of draught were flying around the table like flies to a dead carcass on a warm July afternoon. I don't know how much I drank. After the first round of pitchers, the night blurred together.

I remember a few friends telling me they were leaving. They tied a helium filled balloon filled to my baseball cap so my chaperone could see me across the crowded bar.

In my drunken state, a few minutes after they left, I decided it was time to go home. The laughs were over, the boys were gone, the beer had stopped flowing. I stumbled outside to catch a cab. I didn't have any money. With no credit cards, no debit card, no cash and no buddies to help me out, I made the drunken decision to walk back to the dorm room about 5 kilometres away.

Did I mention it was a cold January night?
I was wearing an Esprit De Corps T-shirt.

I took off running for the first hundred yards, until my breath couldn't keep with to my awkward feet. It was 1 am in the morning and I had another choice to make: Walk the normal roads or cut across fields and backyards, trying to go in a straight line back to the dormitory.

The drunken decision again failed me. I remember walking up to a fence with barbed wire at the top. Clearly, they didn't want people on the other side. But I didn't want to turn back. I wasn't even 100% sure where I was. I chose to climb the fence. Once at the top, I negotiated the barbed wire so as not to rip a pound of flesh from my breast.

I lost my balance, and flew to the other side. Not sure if I passed out, blacked out, or knocked unconscious. But the next thing I remember is waking up on my back in a snowbank wondering where the hell I was. Quickly gathering my stupid thoughts, I jumped up and started running through the enclosed fence to the other side, Luckily the other side had an opening that I was able to squeeze through.

I was cold. I am not sure how much time had passed. Trying to stay warm, I pulled my arms inside my T-shirt and I tried to run through unknown territory, looking for a familiar sign of my university campus.

I started to cry. It was a drunken cry, coupled with a taste of frostbite. I wanted to lay down and rest. But something told me to keep going. Even though I was outside of my good senses, somehow I knew that stopping would be the end of my life. I cried to God. I cried because I was imagining my parents despair when they found out their stupid, drunken kid was found dead in a snowbank. I could feel their pain and I started talking out loud. I asked God to get me back home safely.  I thought about knocking on one of the dark houses, surely angrily awaking its inhabitants. But I was brought up to not bother people. I didn't want to wake anyone up.

So I continued my trek, all the while talking to God, getting colder, more numb and feeling extremely dumb until I saw through the trees of someone's backyard the brick entrance to what looked like the university.

I fell down, got back up and started running toward the gate. I had arrived. I had regained my bearings and a few metres and I was back in the comfort of warmth.

The last thing I remember that night was arriving at the dormitory front door and opening the doors. I was home.

The next morning, with all this still a blur between the headaches and the sore back, a guy who lived in our dorm, was laughing at me. He told me me what happened after I got back to the dorm.

I wandered into the common TV room. I untied the helium balloon from my hat and it floated to the ceiling. I jumped on a sofa to grab it. Without any balance or sense of strength, I fell off the sofa while angrily grabbing for the balloon. In my haste, I squeezed too tight and busted it just like Lenny in Of Mice and Men. Pissed off, I went off to bed.

The warmth of the dorm must have recirculated the alcohol into my bloodstream. I remember very clearly most of the events of the walk home, but nothing upon my return to safety.

I could've easily died that night, my nineteenth birthday. I think about that night often. Yet this is the first time I have openly shared this experience.

The fastest way to grow sales is to double your prices

Wanna double your sales?
Double your prices.

That will work for a couple of weeks.
Guess what happens next?

The value proposition will change.
Customers will feel that they are getting ripped off, unless you give them double the value they used to receive.

Customers will make choices that won't include you.
Long term sales will go down.
Business will suffer.
Ultimately, you will close your doors.

Business people know they can't raise prices that dramatically unless they dramatically change the value offering. Yet one national business is trying to get away with it.

The price of stamps have gone up by more than 50% in one year.

Canada Post is a service that is heavily subsidized by the Federal government. For years, it was a necessity. If we needed to send out invoices, cheques, letters, or Christmas cards, we had to use snail mail. It took a long time to get from our house to its destination, but we accepted it because there weren't any affordable options.

In 2008, one of the Canada Post unions went on strike. The mail stopped. But for the first time in the history of postage, business did not.

Businesses that were still sending invoices by snail mail, learned that email was quicker and less expensive. Businesses that only accepted cheques at payments, started sharing bank account information for e-transfers.

We got through it because we found another way to get our stuff to its destination.

And the postal union realizing this fact negotiated back to work terms before the rest of world realized that the post office is a dinosaur, just like flip phones, and cathode ray TV's.

To make an e-transfer costs about $1.00, less if you have a bank bundle.
To buy stamp to send a cheque by mail costs $1.13. There's still the cost of the cheque, the bank fee, and the enveloppe, that could easily be another dollar.

Why would anyone ever want to pay twice as much for a service that takes 2000 times longer to deliver, with a small probability of it getting lost on its voyage?

Since the strike of 2008, I've been wondering when the country stops using Canada Post altogether.

When I order on Amazon, UPS takes care of me.
When I need to pay a bill, Paypal or e-transfers have my back.
When I need to invoice a client, Freshbooks or simple e-mail is a more effective option.
When I need to send a Christmas card... What am I thinking? I don't send Christmas cards, and neither do most people my age and younger.

Postal service is dinosaur waiting for the asteroid to end it all.

Is it worth a $1.13 to send a letter? I guess it depends on the contents of the package.

Remarkably, Canada Post has realized profits for 16 years leading up to 2011. But has had two disappointing years since then with substantial losses.

Costs go up. Gas costs, employee costs, insurance, property taxes. They all contribute to the ever increasing cost of doing business for Canada Post.

If your insurance doubled, without you having an accident, wouldn't you look for another supplier?
If your mortgage doubled, wouldn't you check out other banks?
If your cell phone and cable bill doubled, I'm sure you'd look around.

Canada Post is somewhat of a monopoly. Clients have no other choices to send out a small letter, so they can charge more and people will have accept it.

And that's where the thinking is flawed.

The choices are wide and vast for Canada Post clients.

The easiest way to increase revenues is to raise prices.
The easiest way to decrease long term profits is to raise prices.
Here's why: An substantial increase in price is a shock. It will decrease usage. A decrease in customers will erode the revenue stream in the long run.

Any business who loses customers year over year is doomed.

The purpose of a business is to create and keep a customer.
It's not to make money. Money is the result. Money comes from a job well done.

If you're losing customers and you're not finding new ones to replace them, your business is finished. You just don't know it yet.

Sorry Canada Post friends, to quote Jim Morrison, "This is the end".

Are you SURE you KNOW the answer

Do you sometimes get wrapped up in arguments? You know you're right. Yet the other person seems to think they are right too. Before Google, the only way to resolve a dispute was to find a book, a magazine or someone else to settle the disagreement.

Today, Google and smart phone technology places most of the answers directly in our pockets.

But sometimes the Internet can't give us the answer. It's an opinion, a statement or a personal event not captured on the feeds of Facebook.

At my last corporate job, before smart phones, there was a colleague who used a simple tactic to resolve disputes immediately. He would bet a toonie ($2) every time there was a disagreement. He would raise the stakes from a simple discussion to putting an insignificant two dollars on the table. The two bucks meant nothing monetarily. But it got us back to work, ending the dispute, focusing on our other tasks at hand.

Put your money where your mouth is! The two dollars proved that disagreements have everything to do with the need to be right and nothing to do with money. 

Disagreements are about pride. We don't like to admit to being wrong, even when we are.

The ego wants to hold onto the perceived facts. The ego wants to be built up, to be strong to protect us.

As I get older, the desire to be right is fading like the colour of a 1986 Honda Civic. 

The way a person perceives the world and its facts is a filter. It's an illusion. It's an interpretation of a reality.

What is reality? It's a consensus of enough people to see something the same way.

The next time, you're certain of something, is it more important to be right or to wonder how the other person has come to their conclusion.

What we think we know is much greater than we actually know.

Let's use an example.

How does a dog drink water?

We know a dog laps water with the tongue, pulling the water from the tip and throwing it into the mouth.

But does the tongue curve forward or backward?

I have observed dogs drinking water my whole life and didn't know the tongue curves backward. At least Pier isn't around, he would have made an easy $2 off me.