It amazes me that some people doubt whether self-change is possible. I can’t keep up with it.

I still think of myself as a real social guy, someone who enjoys going to large gatherings. In my mind, I think I’m the person in vogue who scoots around saying witty things to strangers and making the most uncomfortable person in the room feel at ease.

It just isn’t accurate. Today, I shy away from groups of three or more people (counting me). And if I feel one of these individuals is nervous or uptight, I duck out to do something imminently important, like go find a brownie to eat.

I also have this perception of being physically nimble, not lightning fast, but shifty in an athletic way. Like if two savvy captains were picking sides for a game of basketball, I’d be the first one chosen. No way. It’s another case of my mind not adjusting to changes in my life stage.

There is an important lesson for me to learn in this. If I am to be happy and content, I need to stay aware of who I really am today. It’s not that these changes are all good or bad. They just are.

Yesterday I loved to take risks. Now I’m less interested in jumping in so quickly. Experience has made me more cautious, perhaps wiser.

Yesterday my temper would go unchecked. Today I am more calm.

Yesterday I had boundless energy. Today I have energy, but it is bound.

Yesterday I was excited and motivated to make new friends. Today I deeply value and fall back on old and trusted ones.

Bottom line: I’ve changed. I’m not who I was. Today I have the opportunity to love and enjoy the current me.

Don Kuhl
Founder
The Change Companies
dkuhl@changecompanies.net

I’m staring at a copy of Webster’s New Practical Dictionary from 1951. Even in an age of Bing and Google, I find myself turning to these yellowed pages to answer my questions.

The dictionary belonged to my mother, who used it when she worked as a secretary at the Ames Trust and Savings Bank. Every blank page is filled with handwritten words a young Irene Kuhl had trouble spelling: occasion, shindig, reminiscence, Albuquerque.

You can bet this dictionary will still be on my desk when some family member is assigned the task of boxing up all my books and other sentimental stuff.

I hold on to ideas just as tightly. Whenever a creative thought pops into my head, I grab hold of it and don’t let go. It comes to bed with me at night and I wake up with it in the morning. I don’t let it out of my sight, tinkering throughout the day to make it better and better. Weeks go by as I coddle my precious concept, hugging it closer until it’s likely to suffocate.

I hang on to sad feelings too long as well. Last week, I watched my neighbor’s dog die in a tragic accident. Boo wasn’t my dog. In fact, I wasn’t particularly fond of him. Yet, several days later, I’m finding it difficult to eat my sandwich because I’m still thinking of the grief the girl next door is experiencing. The peanut butter gets stuck in my throat. Let go, Don, let go.

What’s wrong with me? I keep using an outdated dictionary. I can’t let creative ideas escape my brain, and sad feelings keep me from swallowing sandwiches.

Maybe I hold on to things too long. Or maybe I should look up the word “human” in Irene Kuhl’s yellowed dictionary.

Don Kuhl
Founder
The Change Companies
dkuhl@changecompanies.net

Then, after my arms and chest were beet red from Eddie’s zingers, he would finally send me long. What a thrill it was to run past Tommy Mulhall and know the ball was coming in a high arc over everyone’s heads. It was mine alone to catch, a big victory within my grasp.

In many ways, my whole life has been like a Curtis Street football game. Most of it has been about catching the short pass, feeling the sting of repetition, playing it safe by grinding it out. But on occasion, I get an urge to take a risk, to fly past what is expected of me and go long.

And I do it. I don’t have Eddie to tell me when it’s the right time. It’s my job to quarterback. Sometimes the circumstances are not ideal and the victory is out of reach. Other times I fumble the catch, and a big opportunity slips away. But then there are those times when magic is in the air and I go for broke just at the right moment. I pay no attention to those sideline naysayers who tell me I will fail. Regardless of the outcome, I take great pleasure in going for it and converting challenges to successes on my natural turf.

Okay, enough with the football analogy. My point is that I believe that part of the joy of my life has come from going after big opportunities, reaching for what appears to be unattainable. Starting The Change Companies® was one of those long shots. It meant leaving the security of a monthly paycheck and fringe benefits to go after a dream.

Many of my friends have elected to play it safe, to live conservatively and run their regular routes. That’s their choice. Over the years, I have accepted their critical evaluations of my “go for broke” behaviors. They are excellent at pointing out the jeopardizing errors in judgment, the numerous times I’ve fallen flat.

It all gets down to how each of us wants to play. If people see victory as a lifetime without any scars, then hooray for safety, compliance and a fair return on effort. For me, after earning the red welts of doing what is expected, one of my real pleasures in life is to take a shot deep down the field.

Don Kuhl
Founder
The Change Companies
dkuhl@changecompanies.net

Over the years, we pick up all kinds of notions and beliefs about what is true and what isn’t. They hang out in our brains until some event jars them into action, thus affecting how we feel and behave. If one or more of our beliefs are faulty, they can cause problems for us and those around us.

I’ve housed my share of false notions that led to all kinds of problems. I went through a period where I believed I was more engaging and socially adept after consuming a few (often quite a few) alcoholic beverages. The notion was that individuals were enthralled with my clever banter and I often “stole the show.” Wow, was that a faulty belief! After receiving some professional assistance, I learned from good friends that I had come across as obnoxious and self-absorbed. My “show” would have closed the first night it played in Peoria. Thankfully, for all involved, the removal of this faulty belief changed my drinking behavior.

Then, there were years I felt older people – say, over 50 – had little to contribute to the progressive flow of life. They were to be tolerated, cared for when necessary, but never taken seriously. This faulty belief limited many natural opportunities for me to be mentored and educated. It took me several business misadventures to recognize that wisdom often was the result of experience honed over years. In fact, as I grew older, 50 in my eyes went from being aged, to middle-aged, to being a youngster.

Several years ago, I realized this former faulty belief had done a 180. Now, I had little appreciation for young, computer-savvy kids who only associated the word “tie” with the score of a ball game. This belief was recently challenged again when I discovered many of these youngsters came equipped with a unique capability for organizing, interpreting and distributing large chunks of data. And the future of The Change Companies® depends on these people and their marvelous and mysterious set of talents.

So now I am better at questioning the beliefs I have held for long periods of time. Whenever I want to challenge a particular notion, I ask “Is it true? Does it serve my best interest? How does it affect the events that are in front of me?”

Today, I recognize that beliefs need not be rigid or permanent. The notions I have in my head can be changed to make me feel and behave in healthier, happier ways.

Don Kuhl
Founder
The Change Companies
dkuhl@changecompanies.net

There is a small mouse hole on the ceiling of my garage. Every night, a belligerent rodent was throwing thimblefuls of insulation and other building materials through the hole and onto my garage floor. And above the garage was a bedroom I wanted to remain mouse free. But how was I to catch a mouse that hung out between the garage ceiling and the bedroom floor?

This furry intruder had no idea he had awakened a cunning hunter with a creative flair. After surveying the situation, I built an elaborate mouse-catching contraption made out of a stepladder, a four-legged stool, a green storage tub, a coffee can and a few old plywood boards, all artfully piled on top of each other. At the summit, strategically placed just below the dumping hole, I set a peanut-buttered mousetrap. Victory would be mine.

Not so. Each morning when I eagerly ascended the stepladder, new insulation and other bits of building materials were waiting for me next to the unsprung and still peanut-buttered trap. Of course, due to the fragility of my tower design, the whole contraption would topple and I would need to reconstruct my masterpiece each day.

Soon, I became convinced that Sherry and my son, Shane, had crossed over to the mouse’s side. Their little smirks and chuckles only intensified my ardor for victory.

One morning during my fourth reconstruction, Shane offhandedly mentioned that I need not put the trap so close to the mouse hole. He said that if the prize was desirable enough, the mouse would be attracted to it.

Shane’s comment got me thinking of all the times I try too hard, how often I complicate simple social and business transactions by being too present. If I have something of worth to offer, perhaps it is wiser to allow the other party the time and space to come to me.

Using such thinking, I replaced the Skippy peanut butter with a tiny piece of my prized Wisconsin aged cheddar. Then, rather than risking another ascent of my precarious tower, I simply placed the trap on the floor of the garage.

My anticipation made it hard to sleep that night. At dawn’s early light, I rushed to my garage. The aged cheddar was gone. The trap was still cocked. I glanced up at the mouse hole and saw two ears and a pink nose peeking out. I swear he was smiling down on me.

Lessons learned: 1) In order to attract others in life, you need to offer something that has value in their eyes. 2) Even then, it doesn’t mean things will go your way. 3) Ceiling insulation adds a nice, workman-like touch to any garage floor.

Don Kuhl
Founder
The Change Companies
dkuhl@changecompanies.net

The key is spending time with good people. Watching, listening to and following successful individuals makes a humongous difference in my state of happiness. I’ve picked up a skill of bumping into, tripping over and sneaking up on some passionate and gifted people. And somehow, the good stuff seems to rub off on me.

It wasn’t always that way. In my younger days, I was hounded with bad luck on a regular basis: messing up in college, battling recurrent hangovers, taking a company down the tubes…must I go on? I was suffering from hanging out with a select group of individuals who also were going through a similar run of negative consequences. We were great at feeding each other’s egos and making up spectacular excuses for failures.

This “relationship concept” may be an oversimplification of how to lead a happy and healthy life. However, when I am with young people I dearly love, I cajole them to find ways of spending time with friends and colleagues who have a joyous time doing constructive things. That way, what may appear in life as good luck will actually be a natural result of positive habits shaped by the influence of others.

This idea of chasing down and investing time with good people works in both my personal and professional life. Conversely, over the years, I have become better at avoiding (or not engaging with) individuals who do not present a positive viewpoint or who appear to be subjecting pain to all those around them. Now, my friends and colleagues are of the “lucky,” fun sort.

One of the highlights of recent years was an evening in Chicago with Bill Miller (Motivational Interviewing), Jim Prochaska (Transtheoretical Model of Behavior Change), David Mee-Lee (The ASAM Criteria) and Scott Miller (FIT). We had gathered together, at my invitation, to talk about ways to help millions of people make little self-changes that add meaning and joy to their lives. For those readers not in the field of psychology or healthcare, each person in the photo above is a rock star of research and application in his field of study. And then there’s me. Just hanging out with these winners.

So, how do I plan to continue feeling lucky? I’ll keep chasing after those people who have smiles on their faces and goodness in their hearts.

Don Kuhl
Founder
The Change Companies
dkuhl@changecompanies.net

Most days, I go on a three-mile walk on Franktown Road, a county highway that juts along the base of the Sierra Nevada mountains just above Washoe Valley. I take my red KONG ball and bounce it on the smooth blacktop in rhythm to every other left step I take. I face oncoming traffic, with the occasional car or pickup zipping past me. When this happens, I stop bouncing the ball and retreat off the road to give the motorized vehicle full access to the highway. Most drivers stay in their lane, do not slow their speed and power by me as if I don’t exist. It’s okay. That’s their right in motor-land.

A few weeks ago, I decided to wave and smile at each driver as he or she approached. Immediately, the drivers slowed, moved over toward the other lane and smiled and waved back. These smiles were supersized and the waves were genuine, typically one of those thumb-on-the-wheel, fingers twittering types of waves, indicating we had established an informal, hip bond.

Over the weeks, my “research walks” yielded a huge outpouring of social results. By thankfully recognizing drivers in my moving off the road, waving and smiling, I altered their whole attitude and behavior. They felt like a part of my team. They liked me and my bouncing KONG ball. I’ll bet they’re looking forward to seeing me the next time they travel Franktown Road, and are even planning special trips in hopes of strengthening this social bond.

This empirically sound research would have gone unnoticed until I was reading my copy of the Harvard Business Review last night and noticed an article by Robert Eckert, former Chairman and CEO of Mattel (the toy people). He gets a full page in this prestigious magazine, sharing how he energized the culture of this giant organization by simply smiling and consistently saying thank you to his employees.

Why does he get all the accolades when I’m reshaping the social fabric of an entire mountainside with a smile, a wave and a KONG ball?

Don Kuhl
Founder
The Change Companies
dkuhl@changecompanies.net

Perhaps she thinks I’m letting down the family tree a bit, and her branch is drooping under my critical self-analysis. More likely, she just loves me so much, she only sees my positive traits shining through. After all, that’s the thing when it comes to dads and daughters.

In a weak moment, I promised Kate I would share a list of my positive attributes, those personal characteristics I admire about myself. And I promised her I would not use sarcasm or double entendres, or take a cheap shot at the end of the piece that would put into question all the good things I just bragged about.

So here is my short list of what I like most about me. Given more time, I’m certain I could go on and on.

1.  I’m empathetic. I naturally put myself in the shoes of people around me. If they experience pain, embarrassment or a sense of loss, I feel it too. It’s immediate and real.

2.  I’m blessed with an abundance of optimistic energy. I’m more at ease in doing than thinking about doing. The successes of my life have come from jumping into action and then adjusting and adapting to the initial consequences of my behaviors.

3.  My self-talk sparkles. I fully enjoy the creative conversations I have with myself. Often, my imagination puts me on some planet that has no governmental codes or restrictions, or makes me a ribbon winner in a third grade spelling bee or allows me to talk to humorous boulders along a mountainous pass.

4.  Physically, I’m a great dodger. I’m not very fast and I can’t jump real high, but, when people have chased me over the years, I have this outstanding ability to duck out of the way at precisely the right moment. In other words, don’t mess with me in a game of tag or flag football.

This list of my four attributes may make my daughter feel a little more genetically grounded. Actually, it is my appreciation of her (and my son’s) consistent acts of kindness and joyous approach to each day that give me the greatest sense of accomplishment.

Don Kuhl
Founder
The Change Companies
dkuhl@changecompanies.net

At age 67, I head off to Hawaii for the first time, to what they call the “Big Island.” Friends and family tell me it will be the experience of a lifetime.

Sherry and I stay at a beautiful property north of Kona. Our room looks out over the ocean. We drive around the island experiencing the beaches, rain forests, an active volcano, waterfalls and archetypal, picture-perfect sunsets. We want to suck in everything that is anything.

But, for some odd reason, as we near the end of our stay, the trip feels incomplete.

On our final day, we walk south from our hotel, past the beach, beyond the resort, beyond anybody. We pass by stationary sea turtles and spot whales leaping out of the blue. We navigate for hours on huge black sheets of lava rock, which requires us to jump over crevices, from one jagged rock to another. At times, I need to crawl on all fours to maintain my balance. I play in my head that I am on a great expedition, crossing virgin territory for the good of humanity. I feel young and brave.

Then we spot him. Out of nowhere appears Lava-Man, emerging from a freshwater crater about 100 yards from the ocean’s shore. His only clothing is blue swim trunks he holds in one hand. Sherry and I are drawn to him. He is brown skinned, lean, lined and a decade older than me. This man, this Lava-Man, is magnificent.

Seconds go by in silence. Does Lava-Man talk? Does he ever wear his blue swim trunks? Where did he come from?

At the perfect moment, Lava-Man speaks with authority and warmth, in the voice of Charlton Heston in his prime. He points to other freshwater craters, and to beaches and trees in the distance. He describes the history of the lava flow and the power of the ocean. He does not ask about us and we do not ask about him.

Silence returns. Minutes pass. Then, with a slight bow and a possible wink, Lava-Man retreats a few yards and descends deep into another small crater.

Sherry and I are in awe. This surreal experience has brought us deep joy and a moment of wonder. Lava-Man will always define our image of Hawaii.

Don Kuhl
Founder
The Change Companies
dkuhl@changecompanies.net

Often, my behaviors ignore friends and family who mean the most to me. I’m not saying I always come across like a jerk, but, on occasion, I give short shrift to loved ones at the times they most want my support. And these are the very people who can either make my daily life a tough go or a joyous ride.

What do I do instead? I give my very best to individuals I hardly know, practically strangers. For some bizarre reason, I put value in wanting these people to really like me from the start. I think, “They’re going to feel fortunate they bumped into me today. What else can I do to make them like me more?”

So a couple of weeks ago, Sherry, as in wife, Sherry, asked me to join her on an 80-mile trip to watch our grandson, Sam, compete in a regional wrestling tournament. She really wanted me to go, to do the whole MapQuest thing, the driving in an unfamiliar city, the keeping her company for the better part of the day.

My alternative opportunity was to go to a breakfast with a small group of retired men I hardly knew who met regularly to share war stories about former jobs or discuss personal health emergencies they just experienced or thought they were about to experience.

Any intelligent person would make a wise decision here. On the one hand, traveling to the wrestling tournament would bring a sense of family support. It also would be an opportunity to collect a “negotiable chit” to be cashed in when a major marital decision was in the balance. It would give me quality time with the one person who can fill my life with contentment and joy.

On the other hand, there were lukewarm fried eggs, stories about digestive systems on the fritz and blustery political opinions that ran contrary to my own. The most I would get out of this experience was indigestion and the tab.

What choice do you think I made?

What’s wrong with me anyway?

Don Kuhl
Founder
The Change Companies
dkuhl@changecompanies.net