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The Best Self-Help Advice Ever...
These are the best nuggets of advice about happiness, alignment, and success I’ve ever received:
1. Be yourself
I once heard a monk say if you meditated nonstop for 20 years, the answer you would arrive at is “be yourself.” There is tremendous freedom in just being you. It’s better (and easier!) to be a first-rate version of yourself than a third-rate version of anyone else. How long can you fake it, anyway?
You’re like a snowflake. Just as no one else in the world has your face, no one has your unique gifts, strengths, or personality. Don’t be afraid to be seen.
2. You have nothing to prove
You don’t have to please everyone, entertain others, or compete (unless doing so makes you happy). You are enough, exactly as you are right now.
3. You can’t control anyone
Have you ever met someone who thought they were wrong about their choices? Neither have I. Some of our most mature action is inaction (or biting our tongue). For example, my super-duper healthy friend and I went for lunch last weekend. She ordered a salad. I ordered a bagel (extra cheese!) and a milkshake. She didn’t say a word.
So much suffering comes from trying to control others—their actions, their habits, their worldview. This can include strangers online, your ex, your colleagues...
But the (liberating!) fact is, you have zero control over other people. Zip. Nada. NONE.
4. Don’t take yourself too seriously
When I was a teenage waitress, the café owner I worked for had a rule that whenever we smash a plate or glass, we laugh! It was an excellent policy. The other day I was pacing my apartment cursing the ceiling (loudly) because I accidentally sent a newsletter out with an incorrect link and then had to issue an apology—and a correction—to the almost 40,000 people in my community.
If you were a fly on the wall, you would have thought I was having a heart attack.
What happened?
Nothing. Someone even emailed me saying, “Good to know you’re human!”
Can you laugh a little more?
5. You’re doing great
You’ve already arrived. Your life has begun. You’re doing better than you think. You can be satisfied in the moment and be eager for more—they’re not mutually exclusive. And always pause to celebrate when something good happens, whether a dish you're making comes out well, you score a bargain on something you’ve been eyeballing for weeks, or a friend gives you a compliment.
6. The only time you have is now
How often do we put off life? Don't do it, because there is no tomorrow. The only time to take action and make something real happen is today!
7. Failure isn’t final
Failing sucks. We all know the feeling. But if you can—even for a moment—remind yourself this feeling is temporary, you will be OK. New things are on their way, and the good times will roll soon enough.
8. Ninety-nine percent of limitations are imagined
Wayne Dyer said we can become a no-limits person anytime we decide to because “the only limits you have are the limits you believe.”
Think you can't run a marathon? You can. Think you can't start a side hustle? You can. Think you can't have fun online dating? You can. The same goes for whatever you think you can’t do.
9. No one knows what they’re doing either
E.M. Forster said, “Life is a public performance on the violin, in which you must learn the instrument as you go along.” We’re all just doing our best with what we know. So be kind to others and yourself (and defer to point No. 5).
10. Only love is real
When you see people through a loving, forgiving, everyone-is-human lens, your life transforms. That includes how you feel about your haters. You can become an instrument of love and a force for good in the world. Choosing love is perhaps the most worthwhile pursuit of your life.
@american
Dead Man's Island ... Continued ...
'Yes,' he said. 'I put some of my things in the car. A guitar, and some clothes. Then I pushed my car over a cliff and burned it. The police found the burned car and thought I was dead. Everybody thought I was killed in the car crash.''But you faked the crash,' I said.
'Yes.''What did you do then?''My family hid me away for months. I tried to change into a different person - shorter hair, a moustache, quiet suits. All my money went to Greta and she changed her name to Ross. I told her to buy this island. Now I invest her money, the money that was mine. And now I'm "James Ross".''What about "Jake Rosso"? I asked. 'JakeRosso took drugs,'he said. 'Jake Rosso got drunk and crashed cars. He killed a young girl, so he had to "die". I can never forget the girl. I think about her every day .''And that's why you always look so sad,' I thought. I looked around the room. 'Why do you keep a room like this? Why do you keep the guitars, the posters and photographs?' James Ross did not speak for a minute. Then he said, 'I need to remember my old life, and what Jake Rosso was like. I'm never going to sing again and I'm never going to take drugs. But I need this room, to remember.' I looked at the posters and the photographs. And I looked at his sad face. 'I'm not going to say anything. I won't tell my mother, I won't tell anybody.' James Ross looked at me. 'I think you understand,' he said. 'I do,' I said. 'I've done bad things. I want to forget them, too. I needed to get away, to hide, too. That's why we came to England, to begin a new life. Yes, I understand.' He took my hand, and we walked out of the room and closed the door. I never went into the room again, and I didn't tell anybody. My mother and I left the island at the end of the summer. Soon after, I went to college. My life is better now. I work on a farm in England and my mother works in an office. My mother doesn't worry about me, because I'm happier now. I haven't been 'back to the island. But I know there's a 'dead man' living there.
To be continued...
@american
there was a storm in the middle of the
night. I was hot and I couldn't sleep. I got out of bed, went across to the window and looked out at the night. Black clouds hurried across the sky, and the trees moved wildly in the wind. The rain made a loud noise on the window. I opened my window and put my head out into the wind and the rain. I looked at the other windows in the house. Most of them were dark. But one window had a light in it. 'Somebody isn't sleeping,' I thought. 'Which room is that?' There were six windows between my window and the room with the light. 'And there are six doors between my room and the locked door!' I thought. 'That light is in the locked room. Somebody's in there!' I put on my dressing-gown and went out of my room. The house was dark, and at first I couldn't see very well. I walked along the passage and turned the corner. There it was, the locked room. And there was a light under the door! I went nearer and heard noises. 'Somebody's moving about in the locked room,' I thought. 'Who is it? Then the light went off and the door opened. I was afraid to move. Somebody came out of the room, and into the dark passage. Lightning suddenly lit up the house, and I saw who it was. 'It's Mr Ross!' I thought. 'What was he doing in that room in the middle of the night?' I didn't move and he didn't see me. He locked the door of the room carefully. He didn't put the key in his pocket, but hid it in the plant pot next to the door. 'He's coming along here,' I thought. 'I must get back to my room.' And I ran back along the passage. Mr Ross heard me. 'Who's that?' he called. I didn't answer, but ran into my room and closed the
door. He came along the passage and stopped outside my door. Then he walked past and went on down the stairs. I took off my dressing-gown and went back to bed. I was shaking because I was afraid. 'Now 1 know how to get into the locked room,' I thought. 'But what's in there?'
🎧Full Audiobook🎧
👆Dead Man's Island By John Escott👆
The entire audio.
Dead Man's Island... Continued...
'Yes,' he said. 'I put some of my things in the car. A guitar, and some clothes. Then I pushed my car over a cliff and burned it. The police found the burned car and thought I was dead. Everybody thought I was killed in the car crash.''But you faked the crash,' I said.
'Yes.''What did you do then?''My family hid me away for months. I tried to change into a different person - shorter hair, a moustache, quiet suits. All my money went to Greta and she changed her name to Ross. I told her to buy this island. Now I invest her money, the money that was mine. And now I'm "James Ross".''What about "Jake Rosso"? I asked. 'JakeRosso took drugs,'he said. 'Jake Rosso got drunk and crashed cars. He killed a young girl, so he had to "die". I can never forget the girl. I think about her every day .''And that's why you always look so sad,' I thought. I looked around the room. 'Why do you keep a room like this? Why do you keep the guitars, the posters and photographs?' James Ross did not speak for a minute. Then he said, 'I need to remember my old life, and what Jake Rosso was like. I'm never going to sing again and I'm never going to take drugs. But I need this room, to remember.' I looked at the posters and the photographs. And I looked at his sad face. 'I'm not going to say anything. I won't tell my mother, I won't tell anybody.' James Ross looked at me. 'I think you understand,' he said. 'I do,' I said. 'I've done bad things. I want to forget them, too. I needed to get away, to hide, too. That's why we came to England, to begin a new life. Yes, I understand.' He took my hand, and we walked out of the room and closed the door. I never went into the room again, and I didn't tell anybody. My mother and I left the island at the end of the summer. Soon after, I went to college. My life is better now. I work on a farm in England and my mother works in an office. My mother doesn't worry about me, because I'm happier now. I haven't been 'back to the island. But I know there's a 'dead man' living there.
The End.
@american
Dead Man's Island... Continues...
I went into the room . . . and I was very surprised.
The room was full of strange things. Coloured shirts
and suits. Three guitars. And there were posters and
photographs on the walls. I looked at the posters. Jake Rosso's face looked down at me. I looked at the dead Jake Rosso's picture, and I remembered all the photographs on the walls of my room in Hong Kong. I could never forget that face - the face of my favourite singer.Then, while I looked at his face, something strange happened. I began to see another face in the posters. An older face, and with a moustache, but the same face. 1 saw the face of Mr Ross.
'No!' I said. 'It's not true!'
But it was, I knew it was.
'Mr Ross is . . . Jake Rosso!'
'No!' said a voice behind me.
I turned round and saw Mr Ross. He was standing in
the doorway. He looked . . . afraid.
'I don't believe you!' I said.
'You have to believe me!'
I looked at the posters. 'Who is that, if it's not you?'
'It's Jake Rosso. He was . . . my brother.' 'That's not true!' I shouted. 'I don't believe you. Listen, Jake Rosso was my favourite singer - I had hundreds of photos of him. I still have all his records. I loved him, do you understand? Thousands of people loved him.'
'He's dead,' Mr Ross said quietly.
'No!' I shouted. 'You're Jake Rosso! You look different
now, yes. You've got short hair, you've got a moustache now, and you wear glasses. But you're. . . Jake. . . Rosso. You were my favourite pop star, so I know.' Mr Ross said nothing, and watched my face.
'He doesn't know what to do,' I thought. 'He knows
I don't believe him, and he's afraid.' Then he said, 'It was you in the passage last night, wasn't it?' 'Yes,' I answered. He looked angry. 'I was wrong to give your mother a job,' he said. 'I thought it was OK because you came from Hong Kong. And I needed help with my work. I needed a good secretary.' 'Does your other secretary know who you are?' I asked. 'Do the other people on the island know?' Mr Ross didn't answer, but walked across to the window. He was thinking. 'What's he going to do?' I thought. Then he turned round. 'OK, you're right. I . . . I am Jake Rosso.'
' I knew it!' He looked worried and unhappy. 'Can you keep a secret? A very important secret?' I thought for a minute, then I said, 'Yes, 1 can keep a secret.'
Then he told me. 'The other people on this island are my family.' 'Your family?' I said. 'Yes. My real name is James Duncan, and Mr and Mrs Duncan are my father and mother. Tony is my younger brother, and his wife, Lisa, is my secretary. It's she who's in hospital.'
'And Dan and Stella Parks? I asked. 'My mother's sister and her husband,' he said. 'But what are you doing here on this island? I don't understand.' 'I'll tell you,' he said. He sat down on a chair and took a guitar in his hands, but he didn't play it. 'You were right. I was a famous pop star. I was very rich, and I had a beautiful wife. But things went wrong.' 'How?' 'I took drugs,' he said. 'I drank a lot of alcohol. I got drunk and crashed cars. I did stupid, terrible things. Iknew it was wrong but I couldn't stop doing it. I was . . . crazy, for a time.'
To be continued...
@american
And then he opened the back of my camera and took out the film. 'Hey! What are you doing?' 1 said. 'You'll spoil my film!' But he didn't stop. 'Sorry,' he said, and he put the film into his pocket. 'But no pictures of Mr Ross. He doesn't like people to take pictures of him.' Mr Ross was watching us. He saw the camera and he saw Mr Duncan take out the film, but he said nothing.
Then he turned and went back into the house.
Later, I told my mother about Mr Duncan and the
camera. 'He spoiled my film,' I said. 'I don't understand,' she said. 'Why did he do that?
'I don't know,' I said, 'but there's something strange about Mr Ross.' About a week later, I finished work early one day and came back to the house. My mother was working in her small
room, next to Mr Ross's office. Mrs Duncan was in the kitchen. Greta Ross was painting in her room upstairs. I went to my room and began reading a book. I was sitting beside the window. After half an hour, I got tired of reading. I looked out at the rain, and the grey sea and rocks between the trees. 'My book isn't very interesting,' I thought.
I got up and went out of my room. I walked along the passage and turned a corner. Then I saw the door at the end of the passage. There was a large plant in a plant pot outside the door. 'Where does that door go?' I thought. 'I haven't seen it before.' I remembered the face at the window in my first
week on the island. 'Perhaps it's the door to that room,' I thought. I walked along to the door and turned the handle. The door didn't move. It was locked. 'What are you doing!' said a voice behind me. I turned round quickly and saw Greta Ross. She looked angry.I told my mother about the locked door. 'What's behind it?' I said. 'Is it a secret? 'I don't know,' said my mother. 'It doesn't matter. Mr Ross can have locked rooms if he wants them.' 'I think he does have secrets,' 1 said. 'There's something strange about him. There's something strange about this island. Somebody isn't telling us something. Something important.'
My mother laughed. 'Stop playing detective, Carol,' she said.
.
Dead Man's Island ... continued...
There was no storm in the morning, but it was still
raining. I got up early and worked on the farm. There were
eggs from the chickens and I put them in boxes. I helped
to milk the cows and then took them out to the field.
Later, I went back into the house for breakfast. 'Did
you sleep all right last night?' asked Mrs Duncan. 'Or did
the storm wake you up?'
'I. . . slept all right,' I said. I didn't want to tell her about
the light in the locked room, or about Mr Ross.
After breakfast, I went back upstairs. Mr Ross was
talking on the telephone in his office. My mother was
working at her desk. I knew that Mrs Duncan was in the
kitchen and that Mr Duncan was working in the garden.
'Where's Mrs Ross?' I thought.
Then I looked out of the window and saw her with
Tony Duncan. They were walking to the boat.
'He's taking her out in the boat,' I thought. 'Perhaps
she's going to Edinburgh.'
The boat moved away from the island and I waited
until it was out at sea. Then I opened the door of my room.
There was nobody in the passage and I ran along to the
locked room. The key was still in the plant pot and I took
it out. My hand was shaking.
Then I unlocked the door.
I went into the room . . . and I was very surprised.
The room was full of strange things. Coloured shirts
and suits. Three guitars. And there were posters and
photographs on the walls. I looked at the posters. Jake Rosso's face looked down at me. I looked at the dead Jake Rosso's picture, and I remembered all the photographs on the walls of my room in Hong Kong. I could never forget that face - the face of my favourite singer.Then, while I looked at his face, something strange happened. I began to see another face in the posters. An older face, and with a moustache, but the same face. 1 saw the face of Mr Ross.
'No!' I said. 'It's not true!'
But it was, I knew it was.
'Mr Ross is . . . Jake Rosso!'
'No!' said a voice behind me.
I turned round and saw Mr Ross. He was standing in
the doorway. He looked . . . afraid.
'I don't believe you!' I said.
'You have to believe me!'
I looked at the posters. 'Who is that, if it's not you?'
'It's Jake Rosso. He was . . . my brother.' 'That's not true!' I shouted. 'I don't believe you. Listen, Jake Rosso was my favourite singer - I had hundreds of photos of him. I still have all his records. I loved him, do you understand? Thousands of people loved him.'
'He's dead,' Mr Ross said quietly.
...to be continued...
@american