Category: Books

Related to featured books of interest and wisdom.

Special Delivery to author Mary DeMuth

I mailed out an #Everythingbook MAIL ART postcard to author Mary DeMuth. I’m on her Launch Team, and I’ve learned so much about community and allies in such a short time.

You’re going to love the book when it releases in October. Stay tuned for details at Mary’s place.

In reply, Mary posted:

‎Lisa, beautiful and very humbling. I’m not quite sure how to thank you. :) Here are some gold stars…. ******

Here it is on Pinterest (and check out the very inspirational pins done by launch team readers using quotes from the book).

Source: rannsmith.tumblr.com via Renee on Pinterest

Only Love Can Tame You

Confession:
I can’t read parts of The Little Prince without weeping.

I’m hardly the weeping type, and yet…

the aching truth on vulnerability and intimacy contained in The Little Prince cuts all the way down to my what turns out to be a gooey marshmallow core; it gets in deep.

In reading The Little Prince,
I learn afresh this:
Only love can tame you. Everything else that tames is just subjugation.

If you like that nugget…<click-here-to-tweet-it>

 

If you’re not familiar with this classic, or even if you are, enjoy this excerpt:

–The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Excerpt:

…it was then that the fox appeared.
“good morning” said the fox.

“good morning”
the little prince responded politely
although when he turned around he saw nothing.

“I am right here” the voice said, “under the apple
tree.”

“Who are you?” asked the little prince, and added, “You are very pretty to look at.”

“I am a fox”, the fox said.

“Come and play with me,”
proposed the little prince, “I am so unhappy.”

“I cannot play with you,” the fox said,
“I am not tamed.”

“AH please excuse me,”said the little prince.
But after some thought, he added:
“What does that mean—‘tame’?”

“You do not live here,” said the fox,
“what is it you are looking for?”

“I am looking for men,” said the little prince.
“What does that mean—tame?”

“Men,”said the fox,
“they have guns, and they hunt.
It is very disturbing.
They also raise chickens.
These are their only interests.
Are you looking for chickens?”

“No,” said the little prince.
“I am looking for friends.
What does that mean—tame?”

“It is an act too often neglected,”
said the fox.

“It means to establish ties.”

“To establish ties?”

“It’s just that,” said the fox. “To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world….”

“Please–tame me!” said the Fox.

“I want to, very much,” the little prince replied. “But I have not much time. I have friends to discover, and a great many things to understand.”

“One only understands the things that one tames,” said the fox. “Men have no more time to understand anything. They buy things all ready made at the shops. But there is no shop anywhere where one can buy friendship, and so men have no friends any more. If you want a friend, tame me . . .”

“What must I do, to tame you?” asked the little prince.

“You must be very patient,” replied the fox. “First you will sit down at a little distance from me–like that–in the grass. I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye, and you will say nothing. Words are the source of misunderstandings. But you will sit a little closer to me, every day . . .”

“You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.”

Have you been tamed?

If you haven’t been, and you want to be, just ask. 

 

This theme was worked into the book I co-wrote with Doug Jackson “Dog in the Gap”…

You may want to read it. It could change everything.

Surprise Has a Payoff

(Yes. There’s a surprise message inside)

I’m hand-crafting a Superb Snail Mail Package for Chris Guillebeau the best-selling author of $100 Startup and The Art of Non-Conformity.

It’s a tribute of gratitude really to some of the things I learned from Chris, especially from his guest post at Tim Ferriss’s blog: Chris advises,

Put happiness in a box…and make people feel special.

That’s infused into the premise of Superb Snail Mail.


Though Chris is aware of the upcoming delivery, he won’t know what he’s getting until it arrives. I’m shooting for memorable, personalized delight and wonder.

My Startup that has it’s challenges…
to really know how good Superb Snail Mail is one should experience it. But a pre-customer hasn’t experienced it.

I say pre-customers optimistically…
because I have this gut feeling that with some diligence the value and “preciousness” of Superb Snail Mail will gain bona fide traction, and not merely among postal enthusiasts. In many ways this can be possible because of the power of surprise.

It’s sobering: Surprising someone runs the risk of misunderstanding…failure.

While most people like good surprises what a good surprise is varies from person to person. So, it takes some work ahead of time to do well.

What I love is that when we offer a surprise that brings delight there’s a positive payoff: A relationship is built.

 

TRY THIS:

Figure out how you can offer a good surprise for your team, your customer, a new friend, or someone you care about. Remember that good surprises build relationship. That means something and it builds your legacy.

How will you build relationships this week through good surprises?

 

psst.
Ready for my Surprise?


Huge Creativity Booster: Don’t Read Cranky Bloggers

So, I have this story to tell you…

I enjoy reading blogs. I read dozens regularly, and this summer I stumbled on a discovery that has really changed how my day goes.

I stopped reading cranky bloggers. It sounds simple, right?

Hang in here with me for a moment, because there’s more.

I didn’t set out to read cranky bloggers, but since I’ve subtracted them from my reading diet things have improved in amazing ways.

• For one, I  feel more hopeful on many levels.

• I have more creative energy.

• I can think more clearly about my goals.

• And, best of all I don’t feel so dragged down, overall, you know in that way that’s hard to pinpoint what exactly what could be wrong. You just feel restless or bothered on an emotional subterranean level. 

Granted, lots of cranky bloggers can be interesting, entertaining, or provocative, and I have enjoyed reading them … but I also discovered that more is at stake as I write, create, and interact.

Grouchy people (bloggers or whoever) stifle my creative energy flow:
The fall out comes in terms of…

• problem solving,

• idea generation,

• interpersonal interaction,

• and the resolve to finish ideas all the way through.

It’s all become the higher priority for me rather than staying with the latest controversy or who-done-it tongue wagging.

A captive no more!

So, I unsubscribed to a bunch of writers who were routinely griping or negative. Sadly, I’ve found a number of Christian bloggers had to be cut from my list. They’re just not the cheery bunch you’d expect really. Some of them are quite popular, but oh well. It was a tough decision actually, but a good one…for me. Life-giving really.

I realize that maybe you’re different. Maybe the tit-for-tat cranky bloggers complete with their fiery commenters spark and enthuse your creative Muse. Do they? Maybe it’s their passion gives you a boost that you need to problem solve or unearth new ideas and projects, and carry them out.

But, does it? Really think about it:
After you read a rant post, or someone’s beef or complaint, and the string of ensuing comments, do you feel energized for your own work or creating your own unique art, or do you feel drained?

See, my creative Muse gets peeved. She distances herself from me, it seems. She finds a huff and leaves in it. Maybe out of embarrassment? Maybe out of frustration frustration? Maybe because it’s all so empty to be even a small part of what is ultimately fleeting and hallow. It’s beneath her. “She”…yeah sure…I suppose that might seem silly to personify my creativity… (and pull a classic Steven Pressfield).

Nevertheless, I just know full well now that a diet of reading that includes grouchiness creates a dead weight I’m not willing to drag along anymore.

Incidentally, I’ve found the same thing holds true regarding viewing cable news shows (humorous, provocative, or otherwise), political pundits, or too many advertisements. Again, that’s my experience. The return on investment (of my time) doesn’t warrant a close tie.

Cynicism puts a machete to the roots of your creative Source. 

 

Here’s the surprise ending:

Originally, I thought to myself,

“Okay. I’ll just unsubscribe to this and that, and then in the mornings when I read my email I won’t see the latest and I won’t get sucked in to read them. Sure, that’s the ticket. Then I won’t creatively derail. Yeah! I’ll just find them later, or check after a week, and see what I missed, if anything.”

You know what happened?

I didn’t even miss it. I stopped caring about the hype. I hardly ever went back. I stopped wondering if I was missing a controversy or some buzz about the interwebs. It didn’t matter. It was chaff. I just felt better and had more to give. Perhaps I felt “cured” of that honey trap.

TRY THIS:
Try a diet of without cranky bloggers for just one week. Don’t open the email, or unsubscribe for just a week, and see if it makes a difference in your life. See if it increases your ability to be creative and amazing.

I think it will, and I wish you all the best!

Thanks for reading.

I’d love to hear from you on the topic.

Guest Post by Addie Zierman “building nail by nail…”

I’m happy to have Addie over at the blog, and I know you’ll enjoy this, my friends! Thanks, Addie. To read the other articles in this Series by some amazing people, click here.

Addie Zierman (@addiezierman) is a writer, mom, and Diet Coke enthusiast. She blogs twice a week at How to Talk Evangelical, where she’s working to redefine faith one cliche at a time.

The Ways Blogging is Healing Me
Addie Zierman

In the spring of 2011, I hauled my 8-month-pregnant body to the podium at Hamline University to give my graduate reading. The baby’s feet were jammed up in my ribcage, and my lungs had so little space left for expanding that I had to pause after every couple of sentences to catch my breath.

The manuscript that I read from that night was my memoir, How to Talk Evangelical. I’d started my MFA program as a young, evangelical wife, freshly back from a year of teaching in China. I didn’t know that I was already up to my ankles in the slow-sinking sand of Depression. I didn’t see that wild, angry crisis of faith coming. I smacked into it at full speed.

My manuscript is a reflection of a five-year journey away from and back toward God. I was writing into the anger, into the pain. I was digging through the past, pulling sharp shards of memories out of my heart and into the light.

It was messy and raw and a little volatile, and when I was done, I felt very weak – like someone who has just gotten better from a long bout with a terrible flu and is maybe ready to try eating…but probably just half a piece toast.

One year later, when my agent told me that I needed to start a blog, I felt defeated before I even started. I thought, I am not a blogger. I thought, I have two really little kids and NO TIME EVER.

I thought that “platform” was about numbers and followers and selling a book. But it turned out to be something entirely different.

And here it is: I’d spent five years ripping up the rotten, mildewed boards of my warped view of God. A theology that could not sustain the weight of my pain.

But as I began writing my blog, I realized that we were not so much building a platform for a book as a new platform of faith. A sturdier foundation. Something I could stand on; something that could hold me up.

In keeping with the theme of my book, I began to write, twice a week, about evangelical terms. Cliches. Things like Jesus freak and on fire and feeling God’s presence. I wrote to shine a light on the ways we miss it in the evangelical culture, but instead, I found the light turned in on my own dark places. My own failings and doubts. My own unhealed pain.

The discipline of putting something out there twice a week, every week, feels like a kind of faith in itself.  These days, the old ways of “quiet time” feel foreign and forced, but the blog has given me an unexpected way back in.

Term by term, day by day, I get up and look at the pond while the sun rises. I write a sentence. Erase it. Write two. Erase. Painstakingly, word by word, God is giving me new language, a new way to talk about longing and struggle and doubt. A new way of seeing him.

Where I’ve struggled to be honest about my pain in church and small groups and the usual places where Christians gather, I am finding a new place in the borderless internet. I am finding voices who echo back my heart, and reading them every day is like eating good, hearty bread.

I write, and it feels holy. I read, and it feels like community. And yes, there are days when it’s hard. When my heart gets bogged down with numbers and stats and rejection and the who-said-what of it all…

But most days, it feels like we are all building it together. Like we’re pounding it all out, nail by nail, board by board, with a carpenter from Nazareth.  Like every day, I am finding my footing a little bit more.