The People You've Let in Your Life

I'm back with another lesson from Scrubs. Last time it was all about Dr. Cox.

Don't hate- it was a great show, even that last season.

I was rewatching the eighth season finale (which most people thought was going to be the last show) aptly titled "My Finale" the other night.

A FANTASTIC monologue really spoke to me about what you do when you blog and other things in life:

JD is walking out of Sacred Heart for the last time and thinks to himself:

"I guess it's because we all want to believe that what we do is very important, that people hang on to our every word, that they care what we think. The truth is, you should consider yourself lucky if you even occasionally get to make someone - anyone - feel a little better. After that, it's all about the people that you've let into your life."

Granted this is not about YOU making someone feel better per se, but rather just impacting or having any meaningful connection would be nice. But that first sentence is horrifically true isn't it? We all just want to be heard. But even more, we want to feel that what we are saying MATTERS. Otherwise, why are you bothering putting it down. Finding pictures to go with it.

Blogging, unless you are doing it for business, is a fairly personal experience and seems to me to be fairly narcissistic. I have no problem admitting that I am doing this more for me than the meager few people that might be reading this.

But that's the last line there isn't it? "It's all about the people that you've let into your life." I see more and more people online admitting that the ROI they get from blogs, Twitter and FB isn't the content put out, but the content coming back in. From the people they let in.

Thank's JD for more truth, now EAGLE!

You can watch him here:

Check out my appearance on the The Toddcast Podcast

Click and watch the podcast recording of my appearance on the Toddcast Podcast Such a fun time!

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Most folk who know me, know I lost my father when I was 14 years old. However, before he passed, he shared a timeless secret with me—a practice that would shape my life in ways I could never have imagined. He didn't teach me meditation in the traditional sense, with incense and crossed legs. Instead, he showed me how to meditate by gazing at a lone light on the ceiling. When I was very young, I had night terrors that would wake me in the middle of the night. I'm sure it was terribly frustrating to calm a child from that. But my father had the way. I never understood how he came to the practice. But over the years, I've come to understand that my father's unique approach to meditation was, in fact, a profound lesson in mindfulness and presence. In a nearly pitch black room, he would tell me to find a speck of light, not unlike a star. Then focus. He would say, "Just watch the light, like you're watching a story unfold. Be the observer, not the thinker." I

Todd Lyden

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