I Am My Own Cause: An Unfiltered Blog-View of Life as I See It

By Charles K. Poole

I Am My Own Cause P O O L E

2008 was a year of major change in Charles Pooles life. In the course of the year he:

Moved from the Midwest to the West Coast without knowing a soul;
Faced uncertainty about his professional future;
Struggled with challenges ranging from body image and emotional eating, to recurring medical issues; and
Grew increasingly aware that Americas fixation on mindless conformity was devaluing its greatest assetindividual self acceptance.

He looked inward when he decided not to let personal challenges and other turmoil break his spirit. Writing became his coping mechanism and eventually took the form of a blog titled, I Am My Own Cause.

For a year beginning in November of 2008, Poole shared his struggles, addressed personal issues, provided opinions about America, popular culture, and faith and couragevirtually anything he thought and felt, without a filter. It was his catharsis.

In the months after he began writing, people he knew, as well as many he didnt, responded to the messages they found on the blog and told him his posts reached them on very personal levels. They encouraged him to write more. I Am My Own Cause, conceived as a way to help Poole find the means to live an abundant, hopeful life, became a rallying point for common sense, honesty and hope that connected people across race, age, sex and faith.

This work is a collection of some of the more thought-provoking, inspiring and humorous posts he wrote during that year. Each entry, written in Pooles unique voice and based on his belief that every person has the power to change their lives, and the lives of others, is practical and inspirational.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 7, 2009
• ISBN: 9781450000901

Charles K. Poole

About the Author Charles K. Poole is the author of I Am My Own Cause: An Unfiltered Blog-View of Life As I See It and I Am My Own Cause, Too: Hope & Recovery. A communications executive known for his keen insights, strategic capabilities, and successful development of disruptive public relations and marketing campaigns, Poole also is a former journalist and communications and journalism profession. For the past 15 years, he has led PooleProof Communications, LLC, a public affairs and reputation management firm representing clients in the nonprofit sector, as well as consumer and entertainment fields. A sought-after speaker, Poole focuses on self-help and personal responsibility topics, as well as methods to overcome fear and loneliness.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

LIFE LESSONS

Whoever told you life is too short is wrong. Period. Life is the longest thing you’ll ever have to do. So it’s not about how long you have or don’t have, it’s all about what you do with the time you’re given.

—CKP

Getting Started, Purposefully

Los Angeles, CA—October 11, 2008

I’m finding this blogging thing, at least getting started, a lot of fun. Picking and choosing how I want this page to represent me has been a challenge, but I’ve enjoyed where I’ve gotten so far. And you know what? I like this idea of putting myself out there. I mean, why not? Although I recently learned a very hard lesson about trusting people, I won’t give up trying to find goodness in them.

Granted, I now live in Los Angeles, a city where trust isn’t the first word that comes to mind. I’m from St. Louis, Missouri, where there is a lot more simplicity to the way things are done than here in La-La Land. We tend to speak our minds a bit more and have a different set of expectations, for instance. Still, I’ve noticed that whether I’m talking about St. Louis or LA, everyone does have something in common: They want to be someone. Not in the same way, perhaps, but they want to matter.

There was a certain comfort in my Midwestern sensibilities. But I moved to LA for a few reasons: first, that’s where my job took me; second, I am tired of winter; third, here, in LA, there is still a real chance to dream big and do big things. I no longer want to live my life without dreaming. I want to make a big change, and nothing I’ve done so far is bigger than moving to LA.

Because I know who I am, I’ll be more grounded here than I would have been in my twenties, when I was still figuring out who I was. Today, I know why I’m here: This is part of my continuing journey. I don’t know where it’ll eventually take me, but I’m certain this is where I’m supposed to be right now.

That’s good to know. Because while I’m pretty happy with the person I am, I’m still working on the person I’m destined to become.

So, what will this experience bring me? What am I to take from it all? I don’t have the slightest idea. But I’ll tell ya what: I’m open to all of it. Here we go…

The Day It All Made Sense To Me

Los Angeles, CA—December 15, 2008

Yesterday I checked out the movie The Day The Earth Stood Still. I’d seen the original that premiered in 1951 (years later on TV, mind you, I wasn’t around in 1951) with Michael Rennie and Patricia Neal, so I had an admitted bias going in and had my doubts about how this version would compare to the original. But, since I’m a total Keanu Reeves fan and appreciate that he does what he does, his way, I trusted I’d be entertained.

As I suspected, I liked the film. The ending left me feeling a little dissatisfied because it was a little too nicely packaged. But overall, the movie, for a remake, was different enough that I considered it worth the price of the ticket.

I did miss some of the dramatic tension I remember from the original, but there was a moment in this version when a character, played by John Cleese, said something so profound that it got my attention, right away. He said that humans, while destructive by nature, always seem to change when they teeter on the precipice of disaster. In fact, he explained, we are at our best when we know we have no other option. Doesn’t that just blow you away?

I mean, think of the implications of this message in the context of war, racism, sexism, and even politics. To go even further, think about what this means to those who are enduring addictions to drugs, alcohol, or food, or any other addiction you can come up with. Why, for example, do we have to be told that if we don’t stop smoking we’ll die from it? Why do people have to be given dire warnings that we need to stop overeating and exercise regularly before we get off our asses and do what we’re capable of? Why, I ask, must we be told that we’re all more alike than not—and therefore no one group is better than another—before we’re willing to open our eyes and see it?

Those were just some of the questions that rushed to my mind when I thought about what Cleese’s character said, but more have occurred to me since. And now, guided by these questions and the awesome possibilities of the answers we’re yet to provide, it all makes sense to me: The world shouldn’t have to stand still for us to realize we’re all we’ve got.

Sleep Inspiration

Los Angeles, CA—April 17, 2009

Yesterday began with a specific plan in place. I’m relocating to the DC metro area from LA, where I spent the last nine months after relocating from St. Louis for my job. When I woke up yesterday morning, I was under the impression that today I’d be closing on the home I’m purchasing in Alexandria, VA, and that all the plans I’d made around this schedule would fall in place.

But, by the end of yesterday, I’d spent hours on the phone with my lender, and I learned that I wouldn’t be closing after all. I was furious! I’m a total detail freak (especially when I’ve done everything I’m supposed to do), and I’m really inflexible at times. It’s my nature, and I know it. On top of this, there are so many details involved in a move from one coast to another that it’s almost impossible to stop things from happening once they’re put in motion. I was simply overwhelmed by the magnitude of the tasks ahead of me. I was physically ill, mentally exhausted, and just done. Done!

The good thing is that I was working with some really great people who offered great advice and support, helping me get beyond my emotional reaction and focus on practical matters. They helped me see that, despite being in one hell of a fix, given a little time, it would be in my best interest to just ride out the bumpy transition. I’m glad I listened to them.

I went to bed last night feeling put-upon, worn out, and doubtful. But this morning, I woke up feeling very clear about the entire situation. In a moment of absolute clarity, I realized that during slumber, inspiration can happen, and does!

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m still incredulous that what happened, did. I’m not happy that I have to spend extra money and an inordinate number of hours rescheduling things that shouldn’t have had to be rescheduled. But I also understand that I’m not so special that I should always expect everything to go the way I want it to go. And I’m reminded of something I’ve heard time and again: If you want to make God laugh, make a plan.

So it’s Friday. I’m where I’m supposed to be in the larger scheme of things. Everything that has happened is history and everything going forward is opportunity. I’m certain of this. But I only made it to this point after a good night’s sleep and dreams about how life would be after I resolved the situation in which I found myself. My goal today is to live better and do better than the day before. Somehow, no matter what happens going forward, I know I’ll be able to do just that. And if I can’t convince myself of it during my waking hours, I’ll just sleep on it. Everything always seems better when I do.

Living The Life

Los Angeles, CA—April 18, 2009

In the past two months, several friends and colleagues have died, some unexpectedly. I’m still working on accepting that they’re gone. Each was a good person. In fact, the tie that bound them as great people was how vibrant they were, how enthusiastically they lived, and how each made everyone around them feel equally alive.

Losing good people is like being in a room full of light and then, all of a sudden, realizing the light has gone out and the room is totally dark. When this happens, my immediate reaction is to seek light, somewhere. So, I do.

With these recent deaths I’ve tried not to focus on loss, but life. It goes without saying, of course, that the death of anyone you care about is almost impossible to bear, but their death isn’t what we should remember about them. No, we should instead remember how they lived.

I can’t imagine even one of the people I’ve recently lost would approve of any of us—still infused with life’s force—not fully living the life we have every day. I can’t imagine they’d expect us to give up on moving forward with our own lives because theirs have ended. And I truly believe that they’d say, given the chance, that we should not prove right the belief that Life is wasted on the living.

I miss so many people I’ve known who have passed on. And there’s not a day that goes by when I don’t wish they were still here. But in service to their memory, the best thing I can do is to live my life fully, joyfully… and yes, sometimes with abandon. I want to do things they’d do if they were here. I feel compelled to live without artifice—to be who I am, as I am, no matter what. And I want to embrace my mistakes so that I can learn from them and, perhaps, teach others how not to make them.

These are the lessons I’ve taken from family and friends who have moved on from this physical existence. I keep them alive by sharing their wisdom with others. For me, it’s a spiritual pay-it-forward approach to life that ensures that we remain alive in memory long after we’ve left this life. The lessons, words, and experiences we leave behind are a guarantee of that.

One of those lessons I learned years ago, when I lost the most important person in my life. My mom, who left us in 1992, told her longtime doctor, who had the difficult task of telling my mom, a woman he’d treated and come to know over eight years, that her time had come, Baby, the last time I checked, none of us get out of here alive. That comment, which showed her courage, humor, and ability to be content with the physical end of her journey, forever changed the way that I looked at life and death.

I still have moments when I particularly sense her loss and that of many others. And in those moments, I’m overwhelmed. Yet I embrace the feeling—and I cry the big, ugly cry everyone can relate to. It often happens when I’d prefer it wouldn’t. But when you miss someone, you just do. There’s no way of controlling when you’ll miss them, when you’re just overtaken by the crushing sense of loss you feel. Trust me, I know. It’s happened to me at the movies, during wedding ceremonies, and sometimes at work, none of which are the best locations to lose control and start crying. But it happens, and I figure it will continue to happen for the rest of my life.

In all these