Ingzig

NEW YEARS REVELATION

2012-01-27T09:40:00.000-08:00

I can’t believe it! I can’t believe I’m about to hop on the 2012 bandwagon and pay tribute to a timeworn tradition that’s got all the legitimacy of a Robovac. To my delight I thought I had it all figured out. While the blogosphere runneth over with idle talk of rose-colored resolutions I was intent on discussing the often overlooked benefits of regimented juicing—or not. The point is I was doggedly determined to do something different, to go against the grain, to zig when everyone zagged. Yet here I am, goin with the flow—mimicking the mainstream. Well…sorta.

Personally I didn’t make any “new” New Years resolutions at the resounding strike of twelve. I seldom do. Largely because I think the remaining 364 days of the calendar year are as good a time as any to exercise a little resolve. But I especially shunned the annual custom this season because on the whole I feel pretty good about last year’s efforts. So quite frankly I thought it best to stay the course. Well…kinda.

Ya see the hitch is, although I feel I’m using my time efficiently, I’m not quite convinced that I’m using it all that effectively. In other words, I’m doin the work, yet, to steal a line from Here Comes My Girl by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, “nothin ever really seems to come from it.” Therefore, I’ve decided to do some fine-tuning.

Surely you’ve heard the age-old adage, “practice makes perfect,” right? But did you know that there’s more than one way to practice?

Daniel Coyle, journalist and New York Times best selling author of The Talent Code says, “When it comes to measuring practice we naturally presume that an hour long practice is twice as good as a half hour practice. This reasoning is faulty,” contends Coyle, “because it creates the false expectation that you will succeed merely by filling the allotted time. Deep practice, however, isn’t about time passing, but about the number of times you stretch yourself to the edge of your ability, make mistakes, and then fix them. This allows you, as studies show, to actually accomplish more learning in a deep ten minutes than you can in a shallow two hours.” So, for the better part of the last three weeks that’s exactly what I’ve been doin. Well…somewhat.

The fact of the matter is this, my traditional approach to drumming hasn’t changed much if at all over the years. The prescribed routine has been to play a minimum of 30 to 45 minutes a day, and while I feel I’ve done a better than adequate job of doin that it seems as though my progress as of late has been mediocre at best. So in light of Mr. Coyle’s findings I’ve cut back. I’ve curtailed my playtime and have ventured to go deep, for twenty minutes a day, everyday!

Now I do realize that it’s only been a few weeks, but I gotta tell ya, what’s developed over the course of those short few weeks has been nothin short of rejuvenating. And here’s why.

I’m right-handed. So like most righties I’m predominantly right-footed as well. And nowhere has that been more prominent than in my pitiful attempts to master the art of double bass. Come to think of it there was one other time when it was made embarrassing clear to me that I had a precarious portside; I was eleven years old and about three years into my ten-year stint as a soccer prodigy; our team had just clinched the regional title and was offered an opportunity to play an exhibition game at the Los Angeles Coliseum. Of course at that time L.A. didn’t have the likes of David Beckham to sell out an 80,000-seat arena, but it was still far and away the largest crowd any of us youngsters had ever played for. My dad, bless his heart, was coaching at the time, and if there was ever just one iota of advise that he repeatedly tried to hammer into the impenetrable little head of his fledgling son over the years it was, “If you vant to be a rrreally gute player you have to learn how to schut vit bote feet.”

Well into the match and with the score still tied at zero zero our team was awarded an opportune corner kick. It was executed perfectly. Lofted high and straight the leathery projectile was headed directly for us like a well-guided missile from right to left. On cue the readied net minder lunged off the goal line as if wearing a pair of spring-loaded loafers, yet somehow someway the ball managed to eclipse his outstretched hands and land conveniently at my feet. All I had to do was tap it into a wide-open net with (you guessed it) my left foot. Needless to say instead of scoring the potential game winning goal in front of the largest crowd of my entire career I shanked the ^%# thing just outside the far post. It was (pun intended) the shot of a lifetime, and I missed it. Vay to go Pat.

As I was sayin, the reason I’m all fired up over this remodeled approach to double bass is because it has literally transformed what I’ve always believed to be a creative process into what I’d strongly argue is now an honest to goodness art form. And it’s done so, ironically enough, by breakin that process down to a science.

I guess in a sense what you could say I’ve done is I’ve tossed aside my trusty color palette and reverted back to a much less inspiring paint by numbers format. Yet much to my surprise this back-to-basics approach has turned out to be far more inspiring than I could ever have thought possible, and way more effective than just wistfully goin through the motions and waiting to see what hits the canvas.

So what’s at the heart of this elementary brainchild? It’s a rather useful little device known as a click track or metronome. And in hindsight it’s baffling for me to think that in the nine years since I started playin again I’ve only used this bad boy maybe a dozen times or so. But then again, where’s the creativity in that? (What a dick).

Anyhow, instead of kickin things off with a flurry of fundamentals and then wingin it for the next thirty five minutes, the first thing I do now when I get behind the kit is I power up the click track and set it for 80 beats per minute. I then meticulously churn out a slow and steady sixteenth note pattern with both feet. After a credible string of reps I’ll go ahead and turn up the clicker a notch or two and start adding some ride cymbal and snare. If the mojo’s workin I’ll thank my lucky sticks and enjoy the moment, if not, I’ll promptly regroup and continue to concentrate solely on the bass. "Speakin of back-to-basics!" "Talk about goin deep!"

But hey, it’s all good, because thus far I’ve been able to keep it steady at get this, 140 bpm (bass n ride only). That’s 280 bpm per pedal, 560 combined. For me, considering my lazy left foot, that’s crazy fast. So am I fired up? You bet I am! Because in nine years of playin I’ve never done that—ever!

Ya know the experts tell us that 65% of people break their New Years resolutions after just the first month. They claim the principle reason for this discouraging statistic is the fact that most people don’t have a clear picture of what it is they want to accomplish.

On the contrary ever since I was thirteen years old I’ve pictured myself up on stage behind the drums, and I’ve known from an equally early age that to accomplish this or anything else I might have my eye on means puttin in the time and effort. But in the past few weeks I’ve rediscovered something else. I’ve had what you might call a New Years Revelation. One that’s made it quite clear that whether it’s the first month of the year or some other last time you mighta considered callin it quits, the truth is we all get stumped or stuck now and then, we all struggle with setbacks. However, sometimes, something as simple as switchin things up can be all it takes to turn things around.

Ya know its funny how some things come full circle. Back in junior high during Mr. Deitering’s second period P.E. class it seemed like all we ever played was flag football, and as much as I would’ve liked to I just couldn’t really get into it. But the thing is I was fast, really fast, and I had a pretty decent set of hands to boot. So when the time came to divvy up the teams I’d inevitably be one of the first to get picked, more often than not by the self-assured, self-acclaimed, John “Bosco” Padres. Bosco, an eighth grade ignoramus with a locker room full of God-given talent was the schools star quarterback. And for the record, the guy *&^%# lived for this sh**.

Now John and I had both known each other since third grade so we were equally aware of one another’s respective abilities. Thus whenever we were teamed together he’d have me do the same darn thing every damn down.

There we’d be, huddled in the mandatory half-circle receiving instruction from the battle-tested playbook of our eminent leader. “Williams,” he’d authoritatively announce, “Take it to the first down marker then switch it to the inside for a play-action pass.” “McCoy, line up tight alongside Garavito for an off tackle run up the weak side. On and on it went, one by one, play after play, detail upon friggin detail. Then, almost as an afterthought, and always just seconds before breaking into the customary “Go Team” chant, he’d pivot his head ever so slightly my way and utter, “Lange,” ‘I know I know,’ I’d retort, “Go deep.”

Now while I openly admit that I paid little if any attention back then, today, some forty years later and a stride or two slower, those indelible words have once again come back full circle. And trust me, this time around, they’ve taken on a whooole new meaning. See ya soon. Till then, keeep it up.

P.S. I once heard it said that a setback is a set up for a come back. With that in mind, I sincerely hope that 2012 proves to be, a comeback year.

Happy New Year.

FOOTSTOOLS RATTLETRAPS AND ROCK STARS (my personal take on personal achievement)

2011-12-31T08:34:00.000-08:00

So here we are in the midst of yet another holiday season. It's hard to believe that nine years have passed since my wife Cathy bought me a drum kit for Christmas. Nine years since I brought it home, set it up, and eagerly picked up where I'd left off some twenty years before. What's most noticeably different about this, my third time around, is the kit itself. It's an electronic set, a Roland V Series, the only acoustic pieces are the hi hat and cowbell which were part of an earlier set I had in the eighties. Oh and instead of being ditched out in the garage with the rakes and the shovels this baby's set up in the spare bedroom, stylishly flanked on three sides by an album and CD collection I've been procuring since puberty. From The Beatles to The Blasters, from Johnny Cash to Jethro Tull, these are some of the biggest baddest and most successful names in the music biz. These guys are my idols, my heroes, and it wasn't all that long ago that they were everything, and the only thing I ever wanted to be.

I was thirteen years old when I started collecting vinyl. Back then my folks went grocery shopping every Friday after work and packed in with the week's rations was the TV Guide. Now this wasn't the second rate version that came with the Sunday paper, this was the small screen aficionados handbook, the boob tube bible. For thirty-five cents you not only got a complete and thorough listing of all thirteen channels (whoopee) but page after page of insightful stories, features, and previews. Plus, in addition to all that, an irresistible, "Buy 1 get 6 free" offer from the good folks at Columbia Music Club. That's right boys and girls. For the way low introductory price of just $11.99 (plus shipping and handling) you could get a total of seven records or tapes shipped directly to your door. At thirteen and with nothin more than a paper route to fund my new found obsession this was clearly too good a deal to pass up.

Originally the way it worked was you would tear out the perforated insert from the pages of the magazine, painstakingly pencil in the corresponding numbers of your selections, and then send it off via U.S. Mail. However this Neanderthal type process steadily evolved over the years. One of the biggest advancements came with the innovative lick-em-stick-em stamp format. Now, instead of going through the trouble of marking down your selections by hand, you'd simply adhere the preprinted stamps directly onto the page. It was quite effective really, albeit lickin those stamps could get a little messy and if ya got em on crooked and then tried to straighten em out they did have a tendency to rip on ya.

I still remember anxiously awaiting my inaugural shipment. Everyday after school I'd storm into the house to see if my package had arrived, and when it finally did I tore into it with a blistering vengeance. Leaving a trail of plastic wrap in my wake I bee lined it for my sister's room where at the tail end of a Tom Cruise Fruit of the Loom style slide across the hardwood I dropped to my knees directly in front of her ultra modern all-in-one Panasonic hi-fi stereo. First on the turntable was Bachman Turner Overdrive's Not Fragile. Next was David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, then Foghat's Fool for the City, and so on and so forth. All I can recall thinkin was, "man, this stuff don't sound nothin like my brother's Neil Diamond records."

And so it went for weeks on end sitting at the edge of my sister's bed with the headphones on and the needle cued up, one good spin after another, song after song, record after record, memorizing the lyrics and liner notes, droolinn over the photos and artwork. I soaked it all up like a sponge I tell ya, and all the while rarely missin a beat, tappin my toes slappin my thighs into a rosy shade of red. Then, I got an idea. With a pair of scissors from the kitchen drawer I poked a small hole into all four corners of the Not Fragile album cover, tied it face up to an old padded footstool with some twine, bought a pair of unmarked sticks and viola, insta-drum. Needless to say I beat on that thing like a belly club happy street cop for months. Until the following Christmas that is, when I got my first "real" drum kit, straight outta the pages of the Sears catalog.

As I'd mentioned it's a spare bedroom, approximately 10x10 in size. I recently spruced the place up a bit with some new blinds and a fresh coat of "Dreamy Space." Trust me I had no idea this particular light blue shade of interior satin was called that when I picked it out at the local Homey D's, but with a name like that it could've been baby shit brown and I still would've had em mix me up a gallon. In addition to the drums and the virtual wall-to-wall record collection, a mishmash stereo, a fake ficus I took a shine to at a yard sale, and a rockin chair I bought for Cathy when she was pregnant with our son Tim twenty-two years ago tend to fill out the remainder of the room quite nicely. Like I said it's a relatively small space, and aside from Rudy, a once frail and frightened seven-ounce baby kitten Cathy heroically rescued last year, it's my space.

So here we sit, Rudy and I, gazing out the upstairs window on a Saturday morning tryin desperately to finish this post. Across the street I can see Mike loadin up the ten speeds for what I'm guessin is gonna be a meandering ride somewhere down Long Beach way. Mike and his wife Terri are great folks, in fact we've been neighbors for, well, long before any of us had kids, and their eldest boy Shaun is playin in the NFL. Man, again it's hard to believe how the years have flown by, seems like only yesterday we were goin to his little league games over at Highlander Park.

If I recall Shaun didn't start playin football until later in school, however, it didn't take long to get himself established and become recognized as one of the top in his class, being named The L.A. Times Defensive Player of the Year while attending Los Altos High. From there he went on to USC where he made All-American and was Nominated for the coveted Lombardi Trophy before being picked up by the Detroit Lions in the second round of the 2005 draft. He currently plays nose tackle for the Houston Texans, a playoff bound team for the first time in franchise history.

But before we go on, I'd like to take ya back for a moment if I may to those USC years. Because here's a guy mind you who's earned nothin short of mega celeb status while still in high school, garnering nearly every athletic award and accolade imaginable. Now, as a Trojan, he's considered one of the top defensive players in the entire friggin nation, and yet here he is pullin up to the house in a beat up old Dodge Caravan. I mean honestly how cool is that? And trust me I ain't stretchin it a bit when I tell ya this thing was a total heap. Fact is the only salvageable part on that entire rattletrap was probably the shop rag the dude was using as a makeshift gas cap. Of course that all quickly changed when he made the pros and pulled up in a brand spankin new Cadillac Escalade. But happily Shaun didn't. (Change). Even today with all the allures of stardom he's still the good ol boy he's always been, and I for one wish him nothing but continued success.

Directly over my right shoulder beyond the stationary bike is a pint sized library of books, CD's, and DVD's on personal achievement. Written by some of the most well respected names in the industry these guys are in their own right some of the best in the business. And although they're not my idols, while I may not wanna grow up to be just like them, over the past few years they've certainly taught me a thing or two. In fact, maybe if I'd read some of this stuff twenty years ago I wouldn't have stopped drummin, or any other number of things for that matter, including ridin the stationary bike.

The downer is when I start to consider the wealth of info compiled by these advice-giving gurus I can't help but think what the hell am I doin jumpin into the ring with these heavyweights? Who do I think I am puttin in my two cents? And where if at all does Ingzig fit into all this? Although not overly concerned about the whole thing I do ask myself these questions from time to time, and in turn have spent untold hours tryin to better wrap my head around the so called competition. And while I must tell you that I haven't uncovered the definitive answer as of yet, I do know this.

Ingzig is not a movement or revolution. It's not a hell bent crusade or campaign for colossal change. It's not about resisting or defying the status quo for the mere sake of resisting or defying the status quo. It's not "More than a lifestyle" or "A way of life." Nor is it about "Finding a voice within the brand." It's not a well laid out plan with instructional software and a time limited money back guarantee. And it doesn't require or much less demand a deafening public address system of any shape or form, hand held or otherwise.

It's been nine years since I started playin again, and in addition to a few new riffs what I've learned is that reaching a goal or realizing a dream begins with making yourself a promise. And success, while worthy of the grandest stage, is generally achieved when no one's watching or listening, when no one's around to pump you up, cheer you on, or give you that all-encouraging pat on the back.

Nine years and aside from one attention deficient alley cat who pops in every now and then to take care of some personal business I've never had an audience. No praise or applause for a job well done; no one knockin down my door for an unused pair of autographed sticks. And that's okay, because for me that isn't what it's about these days. Hell even my longtime heroes have lost some of their luster lately, not because I no longer look up to em, but because I no longer look at em as rock stars. These days, dare I say it? They're just fellow artists and musicians who too are earnestly committed to honing their craft.

Ya know it's funny, when I see Shaun single-handedly shut down a running play behind the line of scrimmage in front of millions of fans on national television I don't see a larger than life persona or some gridiron gladiator. I see a wide-eyed little kid roundin for home at Highlander Park, a beat up old Dodge Caravan, and someone who, much like you and I, had himself a heart full of hopes and dreams, and then simply chose to make good on em by bustin his *^&@# ass!

And for me I think that's what personal achievement is essentially all about. The books, the CD's, the keynote speeches and the PBS specials, it's all good. But in the end it's not the polished presentations that impress me the most. It's not the professional advice that's had the greatest impact. It's the personal stories. And if you could take a peek over my right shoulder right now you'd see that those are the pages that tend to be flagged with sticky notes. Because time after time that's the kinda stuff that gets me teary eyed.

So where exactly does Ingzig fit into all this? I'm not sure. Will anyone ever lay eyes on these long-winded words of wisdom? It's hard to say. But again, I do know this: I'm not gonna stop doin what I'm doin. I'm gonna continue bustin my *@^%# ass. Because nine years ago I made myself a promise...one I personally plan to keep. See ya next time. Till then, keeep it up.

Go Texans.

WE HAVE A WINNER

2011-11-27T09:36:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago my wife Cathy and I spent the weekend at Fantasy Springs hotel and casino located in not-so-near-by Indio CA. It's a bit of a drive for us but one we gladly endure every so often for a couple of reasons 1) Cathy likes to gamble, and 2) Cathy likes to gamble.

The 100 mile jaunt on Interstate 10 typically kicks off right after work on Friday afternoon, ETA approximately 7pm, ATM, ASAP. Sharp!

After makin quick work of check in and a non-nutritional bit to eat, it's a, "see ya hun have fun call ya later" dash down the main escalator past the revolving Wheel of Fortune in hopes of snaggin lucky number 3-001, a generous but somewhat temperamental keno machine with whom Cathy's had a love hate relationship for over a decade.

My own approach to the evening on the other hand is considerably different. It begins with a slow and meandering stroll, one that raises the inevitable question, "What the hell do I do now?" That is of course unless the Kings are playin, in which case I've got a decision to make. Do I shuffle upstairs and spend Friday night alone in a barren hotel room quietly watchin the game? Or, do I belly up to the bar, put in my request for one of the dozen or so flat screens to the bartender and if granted prepare to defend my affinity for hockey to a pack of diehard WWF fans who think Lord Stanley is an up and coming hip hop artist currently opening for Justin Bieber?

Not to worry, because as it turns out the Kings are off tonight. And it's probably for the best really, because today (like most days) I got up at 4am, and if all goes as planned it's gonna be another early git up tomorrow as well.

It does (go as planned) and at 6am I'm easin down the road with J.J. Cale on the airwaves and a topped off YZ450F in back. As I make my way south on highway 86 first light begins to reveal itself through the low-lying fog that blankets the Salton Sea, a massive inland body of water that half a century ago was aptly coined the "French Riviera of California." Today, however, the abandoned remains of this former tourist hot spot are little more than an eerie reminder of a bygone era. Coming into view just a few miles further south and to the west is the outlying landscape of Ocotillo Wells, a popular state vehicle recreation area that boasts over 40,000 acres of knobby-friendly terrain.

With a twist of the throttle I'm carvin my way down a well defined single-track that takes me deep into the badlands. Surrounded by an unending maze of washes and ridges I maintain a steady clip while gettin a little more settled in the saddle. But from the moment I open her up I know this ain't gonna be just another "that was fun" sorta ride. Bearing down on the foot pegs my 200lb frame feels especially light and agile this particular morning and the blue bike is responding favorably to my every white-knuckled whim. From the gnarliest up hills to the tightest and trickiest sand sections we confidently pick our lines and impressively find our groove. From one end of this sublime dust bowl to the other man and machine become one, and together, we proceed to masterfully tear it up.

Northbound back on 86 the postmeridian sun has transformed the fog-laden Salton Sea into a shimmering layer of glass that stretches openly across the Imperial Valley. I give Cathy a call to assure her that all is well, that all body parts are intact and fully functional. Moderately relieved she shares with me the "really" good news: she's on a roll, 'ol number 3-001 is loosening up. Elated, I pop in The Black Album and polish off a sequence of textbook Lars Ulrich impersonations before pullin into Del Taco for a couple of chicken softies.

Once back at the casino I instinctively find Cathy in the same spot as when I left earlier this mornin. Did I forget to mention that she is notorious for pullin all-nighters? Did I mention that last night was no exception? In any case I'm headed for the showers. Clean and clothed, I swing open the double doors and step out onto the balcony to ponder my next move. A full gainer off the top rail and into the bowtie shaped pool four floors down is what initially comes to mind, but I opt instead to settle into an overstuffed chair in the far corner of the room where I begin transcribing a backlog of thoughts I've been luggin around in my head since last Tuesday. The next thing I know Nancy friggin Grace is slammin some two bit small town investigator for his buffoon-like incompetence, Cathy's propped up on the bed meticulously counting her "blessings," and I've got less than 20 minutes to shake off any false notions that these aching bones of mine may not make it downstairs in time for our 6:30 dinner reservation.

"Good evening, can I start you off with something to drink or maybe an appetizer?"
Yea, how bout a shot of Sauza and a travel size bottle of Ibuprofen?

Just kidding, dinner was great, as was the company. As for the remainder of the evening, well, let's just say it was anything but unpredictable. Before our waitress can so much as utter the word Tiramisu it's a, "see ya hun have fun call ya later" dash down the escalator past the...well you know the logistics. But this time I too have to high tail it outta there, cause I got a date with the Rock Yard.

A small outdoor venue that consistently attracts some of the finest cover bands you could ever hope to see and hear, the Rock Yard is a welcomed departure from the deep-pocketed high jinks goin on back inside. As always I waste no time securing my spot along the table-lined walkway directly behind the drum kit. Not only does this give me an up close and personal view of all things technical, it also allows me to pan out across the crowd, almost as if I were on stage myself. What? We're at "Fantasy" Springs remember?

Tonight's show is the second to last of this season's summer series. and on tap is a tribute to San Francisco super group Journey. As the crowd continues to scuffle onto the grassy infield the band kicks things off with a solid rendition of La Do Da, followed by a non-stop string of oldies that take me back to 1977, to the L.A. Forum, where just a few months earlier that same year Cathy and I went on our very first date.

Once again the musicianship tonight is top notch. The drummer, a tall lanky kid who resembles Steve Perry more than Ansley Dunbar or Steve Smith, keeps perfect time every time. His rolls and fills are flawless and tasteful. He's clearly done this a few bazillion times before. As I periodically glance out into the crowd I can't help but notice a guy who is unabashedly beating to his own drum. Talk about two left feet, this dude's got the meter and measure of a dash mounted bobble doll barrelin down a pothole plagued Louisiana back road. Sadly, as he makes his way to the edge of the stage I realize he has Down syndrome, as well as, an ear-to-ear grin that is every bit as infectious as the pulsating music beneath my feet.

I'm tellin ya, this guy is havin a ball, hell he's even got a couple of hotties hangin all over him, and whenever an unsolicited pair of gyrating hips get fired his way he giddily (albeit awkwardly) returns the favor. The singer, obviously overcome with envy, hops off the stage to make it a foursome, and all the while I find myself incessantly peering around the impeding floor toms tryin to get a better look. Ahh, the raw and untamed power of three simple cords and a mega watt PA system. Long live Rock n Roll.

Driving home Sunday morning I quietly reflect on the past couple of days while Cathy peacefully "rests her eyes." Honestly, with her level of energy I'm surprised she gets any sleep at all, even after an all-nighter. Nonetheless I'm happy she had a fun filled weekend and walked away with a few bucks in her pocket. As for me, I definitely feel as though I cashed in as well. It's beyond rare when things come together the way they did on yesterday's ride, and for a few days anyway, I feel like I'm a richer man for it.

Last night the Rock Yard rocked, the band kicked ass, the drummer was clearly on his game and I was once again shrewdly reminded of what a few years of unwavering dedication can do.

As for our dear friend in the front row, I can only say that it was an absolute pleasure to have been in your company. You are in every sense of the word, a true winner. Not only did I thoroughly enjoy watchin you unwittingly steal the show, but your unbridled zest for life made me quickly recognize (even after a couple of near perfect days such as these) that in the long run it's about much more than just gettin in a groove or on a roll every now and then. It's about finding your own unique and personal rhythm, even if it is a little...offbeat. See ya soon, till then, keeep it up.

2011-10-29T09:50:00.000-07:00

WHY DID THE CHICKEN CROSS THE STREET?

Hmmm? To get to the other side you foul. Duh!

A riddle is called a riddle for a reason, it's puzzling, perplexing, and generally requires a good bit of thought and ingenuity to solve. Yet part of a riddles charm is that the answer tends to be ridiculously obvious.

Remember the Riddler from the sixties television series Batman? How bout from the more recent film Batman Forever? If so, surely you recall that silly green outfit he wore, ya know, the one "riddled" with question marks. So tell me, ya ever get to feelin that way when it comes to your hopes and dreams? Blanketed with questions I mean? Questions like, "How the *^$&# am I gonna do this or how the *@^&% am I supposed to do that? Well, mull no more, because the answer to these and other prodding questions is literally (and metaphorically) right at you feet.

That's right. While your hopes and dreams are definitely and distinctly your own, and while the path you take toward realizing those hopes and dreams will certainly be no different, in actuality there's only one way down any given path. And that my frazzled friend, is one incremental step at a time. Bam! Questions answered. Riddle solved. Where's my easy button?

Oops, hold on a minute, I think I might be gettin ahead of myself here. Because as I recall the title of this post isn't "how" did the chicken cross the street, but rather, "why" did the chicken cross the street? And for good reason I might add: therein lies the real riddle.

German philosopher Friedrich Nietzche once said, "He who has a why to live can bear almost any how." In other words, instead of gettin too hung up on how to do something, it sounds like what we should really be asking ourselves is, "Why am I doin it?"

"Every year in the U.S. we have dozens of major marathons that attract people of all ages and from all walks of life," writes Charles A. Coonradt in his best-selling book Scorekeeping for Success. "And out of the hundreds of thousands who compete only one can hold the men's record and only one can hold the women's record. Only one! So why is it that running marathon's remains such a popular sport? What could possibly be the appeal of a sport in which 99.9 percent of all participants don't stand a fighting chance of finishing first?"

"The answer," says Coonradt, "is that marathons allow everyone to win. Everyone entered may not be able to finish first, but everyone who enters the competition can in fact win. And that's because marathons provide us with an opportunity to tap into man's oldest yardstick of accomplishment: simply being better than we've been before - even if it's by a second."

Make no mistake, running a marathon requires a superabundance of know how. There's any number of strategies, tactics and techniques that one must consider. But in all fairness it goes much deeper than that. Unlike a relatively short jaunt across the street, a marathon takes you down a long and difficult road that's notoriously riddled with hurdles and obstacles that are every bit as mental as they are physical, and at some point or another you inevitably start asking yourself why the #$&*@ am I doin this? And quite frankly, unless you've got a rock solid rebuttal, chances are you're gonna toss in the towel long before you ever begin to hit your stride.

But (and this is a ginormous but) if you can repeatedly answer this discerning question with ironclad conviction (oh and trust me it'll rear its ugly head again and again) then the odds of you someday realizing your hopes and dreams will increase astronomically.

Ya see here's the thing, asking yourself "why" can prove to be profoundly introspective. Why? Because it's personal not practical. Emotionally it strikes a chord, and the more you delve and discover the more you realize, it's also what fuels the fire.

So whether you're hoofin it across the street (short term task) or runnin a long and laborious marathon (lifelong ambition) try and do your best not to dwell too heavily on the how, but instead, learn to focus ever so intently on the why. Because when you can bravely answer that, then you'll surely have solved one of man's most mystifying riddles. Now, the obvious question is, "how" bad do you want it? See ya next time. Till then, keeep it up.

P.S. For the record domestic chickens aren't capable of long distance flight. Therefore if ya rule out transcendental meditation and/or divine intervention one can only conclude that when it came to venturing across the street our foul-feathered friend's only real option was to (yup, you guessed it) do it one cluckin step at a time. Damn, where the heck's that easy button?

2011-09-29T09:25:00.000-07:00

MAY I HAVE MY ATTENTION PLEASE?

This tongue-in-cheek title comes courtesy of columnist Hugh O'Neill, and I thank him kindly for it. Because as you may recall, we last talked about our thoughts and the profound effect they can have on our everyday lives. What we didn't discuss, however, is what it takes to effectively assemble those thoughts. Or what might best be described as, the cost of paying attention.

It was Ralph Waldo Emerson who said, "There are many things of which a wise man may wish to be ignorant." Here (in no particular order) are a few of my own personal favorites.

Must see TV (yea right)
Late breaking news and headlines (i.e. car chases and sex scandals)
Saturday morning rituals that are anything but enriching
Stock market volatility
Octomom's growing pains
Gadget Mania (user friendly my ass)
Keeping up with the Kardashians
CNN
TMZ
Compulsive rubbernecking
Quick Fixes and Short Cuts (even though they may be all the rage)

These are just some examples of the kinds of things I try to shun or ignore. Bear in mind however that it's all a matter of choice. The trick of course is to choose; to filter out some of those swindling "time bandits" that can so often rob us of far bigger and better things. Now this doesn't mean ya gotta go bury your head in the sand, not at all, just get your mind outta the clutter.

AM/PM (the popular convenience store chain) has a slogan: Too Much Good Stuff, and the way I see it that's exactly what we're dealing with here. This round-the-clock barrage of infotainment we're being hammered with these days, this dizzying deluge of sensory overload isn't so much a bad thing as it is waaaaay too much of a good thing. Of course as it turns out that's also what makes it so damn debilitating. What I mean by that is not only does all this "good stuff" make it increasingly difficult to stay focused and on task, but (and here's the kicker) it makes it far too easy not to as well. It's a %$@&*^ double edged sword I tell ya.

Martha Beck, author of Finding Your Own North Star, says that the inner voice of our true self is so small and slight that virtually any distraction can drown it out, especially when we're just beginning to hear it. Without a doubt there are more things vying for our attention these days than ever before. The question is, are you ready to take back your inherent right to pay attention and begin listening to that inner voice? Are you willing to give it a sincere and "concentrated" effort? Are you personally prepared to engage in a one-on-one battle with these modern day weapons of mass distraction? If so, your best line of defense is to quietly disengage, and to consider for a nanosecond not only what all these things can do for ya, but also, what they keep ya from doin.

"The ability to focus one's attention is one of the sharpest tools a man can have," says O'Neill, and I for one fully concur. So don't be surprised if I can't tell ya who got kicked off the island last week, or if I come across a bit dumbfounded when it comes to smart phones and the like. Rag mags, ipods and long-winded post game shows, hey, call me ignorant, it's okay really. Better that than thoughtless. See ya next time. Till then, keeep it up.

2011-08-23T12:51:00.000-07:00

WHO'D A THOUGHT

When asked how he discovered the law of gravity, Sir Isaac Newton casually replied, "By thinking about it all the time."

Now I may be steppin out on a bit of a limb here but I'd bet that Newton's rather uninspiring reply could also easily have been that of Einstein if asked how he discovered his theory of relativity. Or that of Darwin when questioned about the theory of evolution. Be it the case or not, my point is that whatever it is that you'd like to someday achieve or accomplish, whatever you're interests or ambitions might be, it's important that you think about em, and think about em often.

Here at Ingzig we talk a lot about effort, a term that generally implies some sort of physical task or toil. But I'm here to tell ya that Everyday Earnest Effort is every bit as much about mental prowess as it is about physical fortitude.

French novelist and poet Antoine de Saint-Exupery once said, "You give birth to that on which you fix your mind," and I for one most definitely agree. However, I'd also like to point out that although I'm not against it, when it comes to personal "achievement," I personally don't place too much merit on practices such as creative visualization, a mental technique that uses one's imagination to allegedly "attract" high levels of success and prosperity. Why? Well, because I for one have blissfully envisioned Ingzig being a well established company for years now. I've seen the sandstone colored building that boastfully bears our name. I've worked alongside like-minded people who enthusiastically share our ideals and have hung out with the good folks who help support our efforts by proudly wearin our wares. Trust me, I have many times over been to the events and expos where our logo is poised within arms reach of the big boys and have repeatedly watched our Keeep It Up motto zoom past me on the 405 fwy. These colorful images are as clear as a bell, and in no way am I embarrassed or ashamed to tell ya that I hold each one of em very dear to my heart. But the bottom line is, they're just images.

The same could be said about drummin. In the sense that I can visualize or imagine myself layin down a sick solo all I want. But if fundamentally I suck, it just ain't gonna happen. The way I see it, perceiving it is one thing. Achieving it, is another.

"Well now wait a minute Pat, it sounds to me like you're contradicting yourself." No, I'm simply sayin that it takes a bit o' both, insight, as well as, execution. For instance, I think about these posts each and everyday, literally, without exception. I carry a digital recorder with me at all times so when somethin good does pop into the ol noggin I can get it down on tape pronto. But I also take the time to put it all down on paper, where I then painstakingly edit, organize, write, and rewrite. And when that's done, I start the entire process over again until I eventually come up with somethin that I feel is actually worthy of print. I wish I could tell ya it's all purely the result of one full-blown moment of spontaneous inspiration but it's not.

"In his personal diaries there is an oft-cited passage in which Mozart reports that an entire symphony appeared, supposedly intact, in his head. Yet no one ever seems to quote the next paragraph where he talks about how he refined the work for months," notes Jonathan Plucker, an educational psychologist at Indiana University.

"We all have our ah-ha moments, but as a rule, breakthroughs tend to take years of hard work," proclaims R. Keith Sawyer, author of Explaining Creativity. "[They] happen not in one brilliant flash, but in a chain reaction of many tiny sparks. Despite romantic myth, ideas don't magically appear in a genius' head out of nowhere, they build on what came before."

"That's *&^%# fascinating Pat, unfortunately I'm not your average genius." Fair enough, "average Joe," who by the way just so happens to average about 3000 thoughts per day. That's right. Studies show that we humans, regardless of IQ or creative flair, have approximately 3000 thoughts a day, or somewhere around 125 an hour. So...given that mind-boggling statistic ya might just wanna ask yourself, "What the hell am I thinkin?"

James Allen, author of As A Man Thinketh said, "A man cannot directly choose his circumstances, but he can choose his thoughts, and so indirectly, yet surely, shape his circumstances." Face it, everyday you and I have the opportunity to shape and reshape our lives with our thoughts. Not so much with good or happy thoughts mind you, but with deep and deliberate thoughts, attentive thoughts; thoughts that...well, just might make ya stop and think. See ya next time. Till then, keeep it up.

2011-07-30T15:09:00.000-07:00

WHAT THE CANUCK?

This past May the Boston Bruins shut out the Vancouver Canucks 4-0 in game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals, making them only the fourth road team in NHL history to win a game 7.

Needless to say it was a tough loss for the favored Canucks who led the league in scoring and compiled the best record of the regular season. But even more brutal was the fact that they jumped out to an early two game lead. Yet somehow the scrappy Bruins, who had faced elimination in both the first round and the conference finals, were once again able to defy the odds and outscore their Canadian counterparts 23-8 in the series, claiming what columnist Helene Elliot describes as, "The toughest trophy to win in professional sports."

That evening as the final minutes ticked off the game clock fans found themselves filing out of Rogers Arena onto the chaotic streets of downtown Vancouver where police cars were burning and tear gas was being deployed to control the angry drunken crowd that was slinging bottles, smashing storefront windows, and setting garbage cans ablaze. The morning papers called it, "An all out riot." Canucks captain Henrik Sedin simply said, "This city and province has a lot to be proud of, it's too bad."

I'm a true-blue Kings fan, have been ever since their inaugural season in '67 when the Great Western Forum first opened its doors here in Inglewood California. Like the Canucks, the Kings have yet to earn the distinct honor of hoisting Lord Stanley's Cup, and like the Canucks, they too have come disappointingly close. It was in '93 against the Canadians, all looked promising for the Kings as they convincingly took game 1 of the finals only to have three straight heartbreaking overtime loses followed by a 4-1 defeat in game 5 crush any hopes of bringing the Cup home to L.A.

But that season the Los Angeles Kings lost more than just their best ever bid for the Cup. Our Dad who passed away a few months earlier that year was the consummate Kings fan. But more than that, he was a hockey fan; a sports fan. Born and raised in Europe he played semi pro soccer before coming here to the U.S. in '54, and although his fondness for the game never fully took hold on me, his inborn ability to play it most definitely did. Thus, from the age of eight to about fifteen I was affectionately dubbed the wunderkind, simply known throughout the soccer community as, "Number 10."

All accolades aside, however, those really were some wonderful times, because it was really during those times that my Dad, both as a coach and as a Father, shared with me not only his infinite love and lore of soccer, but instilled in me the true spirit of sport. A spirit I'm so proud to say is still very much alive and well today.

This past May that spirit, that emotional energy, filled Rogers Arena right up to the rafters. You could see it, sense it, and feel it. And whether you were a Canucks fan, a Bruins fan, or a little league baseball fan you had to love it. As for the athletes themselves I just can't imagine it gettin much better than this. I mean to suddenly be a part of something you've dreamed about and dedicated yourself to year after year after year, something so rich in history and tradition, it's gotta be the thrill of a lifetime, and quite the privilege to boot.

Sport isn't about one game, one series, or one season. Nor is it just about your team or my team. This time around the Bruins proved to be the better team, and as a result, were deservedly crowned Stanley Cup champions. But the way I see it, everyone was a winner that night in Vancouver, except of course for those Canuckleheads raising havoc in the streets. And again, it's too bad, because in sports, as in life, nobody likes a loser. See ya next time. Till then, keeep it up.

2011-06-28T09:07:00.000-07:00

WEAK DAYS SUCK

We've all heard the cliches, "Thank God it's Friday," "Oh God it's Monday," "Same sh** different day." The banal list goes on and on, yet for many of us these commonplace expressions are much more than merely woeful chatter. They're a deep and direct reflection of how we spend a good part of our everyday lives - wishin and workin for the weekend.

For the majority of us that means spending upwards of 40, 50, and 60 hours a week doin somethin that, aside from puttin a few bucks in our pocket, is completely and utterly unsatisfying. And ya know what? That sucks. It's commendable. It's honorable. But it still sucks. And ya know what sucks even more? Not takin full advantage of the little bit of remaining time in your workweek to do somethin about it.

It's been said that nothing separates successful people from unsuccessful people more than how they spend their time. So...how do you spend your time, or in this case, your spare time? Let me guess, "What spare time?" "Are you *%&^$ nuts?! Okay, fare enough. But in the midst of all the perpetual chaos here's somethin you might wanna ponder. While we're all busy these days, we're not too busy, not by a long shot, not by at least four hours of TV a day according to Neilson reports. Not too busy for browsin the internet, for Facebook, Twitter, and for those impromptu jaunts to the mall. "Dinner and a movie?" "Sure why not?" Oh and how bout waterin the yard? Washin the car? and, well, you get the idea.

Now I'm certainly not sayin you don't deserve some downtime, however, if you happen to be a part of the growing population of adult Americans who are currently grappling with a lurking sense of discontent I suggest you maybe rethink how you spend it.

Here's a thought, when it comes to spendin some of that hard-earned cash in your pocket I'm guessin you probably wanna get the most for your money right? So why expect any less of your time, especially your spare time, ya know, that precious commodity reserved just for you to spend absolutely any which way you choose?

Time and money, seems like an appropriate enough analogy, but please, make no mistake, this has absolutely nothin to do with the age-old adage "Time is money." But instead, with the reassurring idea that your time is at the very least every bit as valuable. In fact, what I've discovered over the past few years is that the better I spend my time the more valuable it becomes. Be it an hour or two or a moment or two, when it comes to my time it's always a thumbs-up feelin knowin I've got the most "bang for my buck." Oh I exercise my right to relax alright, probably a bit too much so during hockey season, but even then if I don't get at least a little somethin done throughout the day that thumbs-up feelin goes south real quick. And that's simply because from a personal standpoint I feel as though I've let myself down, I didn't do what I needed to do, and that means a day wasted, as well as, an opportunity missed. And in the penetrating words of Austrian author Mary von Eber-Eschenbach, "Nothing is so irretrievably missed as a daily opportunity."

"Come on Pat you're talkin a few minutes here and there, maybe skippin a day or two now and then." "What's the big deal?" "No harm done right?" Maybe, maybe not. But here's someone (Courtesy of One Small Step Can Change Your Life: The Kaizen Way by Dr. Robert Maurer) who I'm sure would argue with you tooth and nail over just how big a deal a few minutes a day can be. Even one minute for that matter.

"Julie sat in examining room, her eyes cast downward. She had come to UCLA's medical center for help with high blood pressure and fatigue, but the family-practice resident and I could see that much more was going on. Julie was a divorced mother of two, and by her own admission a little depressed and overwhelmed, working constantly just to keep her kids housed, clean, and fed. Her only solace was relaxing for a half-hour or so on the couch most evenings. Clearly, the young doctor and I were concerned about about Julie's long-term health, her weight (she was carrying more than 30 extra pounds) and soaring stress put her at an increased risk level. Of course both my colleague and I knew a cheap and proven way to help Julie, and it wasn't a bottle of pills or years of psychotherapy. It was exercise. Regular physical activity could improve nearly all of Julie's health problems, give her stamina, as well as, boost her spirits. Once I might have offered this free and effective treatment with all the zeal of a new convert. Go jogging! Ride a bike! Rent an aerobics video! I might have said. Give up your lunch break, wake up an hour early if you have to, but just get up and make that commitment to your health five times a week! But when I looked at the dark circles under Julie's eyes my heart sank. We'd probably told hundreds of patients to exercise, but very few of them wound up making it a regular habit. Julie struck me as the perfect candidate for change in its smallest and least threatening form.

I looked on as Julie waited to hear what the resident had to say. As I predicted, she talked to Julie about the importance of getting some exercise, and just as she was about to tell Julie to spend at least 30 minutes a day on aerobic exercise, a recommendation that would have likely been met with disbelief and anger, I found myself jumping in. How about if you just march in place in front of the TV each day for one minute? The resident shot me an incredulous look. Julie, however, brightened a little, and said, "I could give that a try."

When Julie returned for a follow-up visit she reported that she'd indeed marched in front of the TV set for one minute each night. Granted, she wasn't going to get much healthier with just 60 seconds of low-intensity exercise. But during this second visit I noticed that Julie's attitude had changed. Instead of coming back discouraged as so many failed exercisers do, Julie was more animated, and with less resistance in her speech and demeanor. "What else can I do in one minute a day?" she wanted to know.

I was thrilled. A small success, yes, but much better than the all-around discouragement I'd seen so many times before. Again, this small action didn't do much for her aerobic capacity, but for Julie it had a different and perhaps even more significant effect. It opened a window to the possibility of fitting exercise into her life. Almost without realizing it this extraordinarily busy woman found a way to eventually meet the American Medical Association's guidelines for thirty minutes of cardio, and to actually enjoy it. For Julie, exercise had become a habit, one she now dearly missed if it were skipped."

Upon reading this story I felt that what resonated with me most was when Dr Maurer said, "This small action didn't do much for her aerobic capacity, but for Julie, it had a different and perhaps even more significant effect."

Gettin back to the time/money analogy for a minute, I guess you could say that what Julie's done is put a little spare change in the till each and everyday. And in hindsight that's pretty much what I've been doin for the past few years as well. Is it a lot? No, not really. Do I wish it were more? Of course I do. But the fact is it's adding up - it's definitely beginning to have an effect.

When I look back on my life thus far, it's painfully clear to me that it's taken quite some time to get to where I am today, (wasted time that is). And I've got a hunch that it's gonna take quite a bit more to get to where I'd one day like to be. But ya know what, that's fine by me, because quite frankly, a little "time well spent" seems like a reasonable price to pay for a more rewarding tomorrow, and a far better bargain than spendin my time wishin and workin for the weekend. See ya soon. Till then, keeep it up.

2011-05-31T19:06:00.000-07:00

GOIN SOMEWHERE?

Rather than jumpin ahead at this point I thought it'd be a good idea to go back and expand on what we talked about in the last post. In part, because like so many of us, our son Tim would love little more than to shed a few extra-unwanted pounds this summer, thus for the past couple of months he's been tryin to eat better and exercise regularly. Yet so far it seems the only thing he's doin with any real regularity is hoppin on the scale, and from the discouraging look on his face it appears "the results" haven't always been to his liking.

Now I wouldn't go as far as to say I'm a diehard fan of The Biggest Loser, but my wife and I do watch the show on occasion, and while I tend to favor the competitive part of the program my wife prefers what's called "the elimination round." It's here at the end of every week that they announce who goes on and who goes home, and they determine this by calling on each of the remaining contestants to slip outta their sandals and belly up to the scale. He who loses the least amount of weight gets the boot.

What I've noticed again and again throughout this nerve-wrecking ritual is that despite one's revealing numbers and/or fate following the weigh in, regardless of their overall time spent on the ranch, when it comes time to pack it in rarely if ever does anyone do so with his or her head held down. Disappointed? Sure. Yet never defeated, but instead, with a renewed and resolved sense of commitment that seems to have em more determined than ever. I can only guess that's because it's become unmistakably clear to everyone at the ranch, as well as to the majority of us watching, that in the long run this is about more than just losing weight. It's about much more than looking better or even feeling better. It's about becoming better.

Singer songwriter Bob Dylan once said, "An artist has to be careful never really to arrive at a place where he thinks he's at somewhere. You have to realize that you're constantly in a state of becoming." After nearly nine years nowhere have I found this hard won lesson to be more true than behind the drum kit. With a dizzying blur of mixed results in my wake, there remains but one clear-cut goal still worthy of my time and effort, and that's to constantly improve and progress. If that means some lackluster returns along the way so be it, I realize it's all simply a part of the ongoing groundwork toward becoming a better drummer.

"We are at our best, and we are happiest," said co-founding Father of Personal Achievement Earl Nightingale, "when we are engaged and on the journey toward the goal." 3E for me is all about that journey. One that not only continues to take me in a direction I wanna go, but repeatedly brings me back to a place I desperately need to be. A place that astutely reminds me if I just stay focused on the task at hand, the rest, the results, both good (and yea) sometimes not so good, will take care of themselves.

I have no doubt that Tim will eventually reach his weight loss goal. In fact I have every confidence that wherever he sets his sights he'll see great things come his way many times over within his lifetime. And if not today, someday recognize that a disciplined effort far outweighs a measured result. Of course as a concerned and caring Father I can only hope that day comes a tick sooner than later, because to be quite honest with ya, that discouraging look on his face is anything but becoming. See ya next time. Till then, keeep it up.

2011-04-30T22:24:00.000-07:00

READY FOR THE RESULTS?

Of course you are. In fact if you're like most of us you can hardly wait. Whether it's your intention or your aim, chances are your motives and motivations are largely fueled by your insatiable desire for results. And why not? After all, results (in our results-driven society) are the coveted crown of both personal and professional achievement. And as a result, tend to garner all the glory.

Despite all the overenthusiastic adulation, however, results truly are a wonderful and worthy thing. But they're far from the only thing. In fact, according to Roget's 21st Century Thesaurus, results are little more than an after-effect, a by-product, and an offshoot. They are "an effect brought about by something."

"An after-effect? An offshoot? Brought about by what?" you may wonder. Well, here's a hint. A process (again by definition) is a method, means, or manner. It is "a series of actions to achieve a result."

So...there you have it. There's your answer. A result is something that is "brought about" by a process. Here then, is the impending question. If results are in fact little more than the result of a process, why the *^&% is it that the results continue to pocket all the praise?

As I've said many times before if there's one thing Everyday Earnest Effort has taught me it's to fully appreciate the process, and trust me I ain't alone on this. In his book Do You!, Hip Hop mogul Russel Simmons echoes my sentiments again and again. "I'll say it one more time," asserts the award-winning author. "The actual work is the process by which you obtain happiness. Not the results. Please understand that. Don't think that there's gonna be gold at the end of the road. Instead, value the process, and you'll see that the road has been paved with gold all along."

Personally, I've gawked and gazed down that road for most of my life, fancifully dreaming of all that's possible. And sadly, it's led me to give up far too soon on things I dearly love. Because just like the young boy who in this age-old Zen story travels across Japan to the school of a famous martial artist, I too had one eye stubbornly fixed on the destination.

When the boy arrives, he meets with the master who asks, "What do you wish from me?" I wish to be your student and become the finest karateka in the land," the boy replied. "How long must I study?" "Ten years at least," the master answered. "Ten years is a long time," said the boy. "What if I studied twice as hard as all your other students?" "Twenty years," replied the master. "Twenty years! What if I practice day and night?" "Thirty years," was the master's reply. "How is it that each time I say I will work harder, you tell me that it will take longer?" the boy asked. "The answer is clear," said the master. "When one eye is fixed on your destination, there is only one eye left with which to find the way."

These days I'm happy to report I've reset my sights. Sure I still tend to glance down the road every now and then, but I'm no longer puttin the cart before the horse. Instead, I'm focusing on the process, I'm honoring that process, and through doin so, have gained an entirely new perspective.

Surely you've heard the expression "Stop and smell the roses." Well consider this if you will. The next time you feel the urge to arch over and take a whiff, reach down and grab a handful of the soil those roses are rooted in. Go ahead, give it a good long look, coddle it for a moment, then, gently let it sift back down between your fingers. Now understand, that without some things others simply cannot flourish and grow. Not roses. Not ourselves.

Results, like roses, in all their radiant splendor, will no doubt always shine brightest. That's just the way it is. Yet with that said, isn't it good to know what really, and I mean really, makes em shine. See ya soon. Till then, keeep it up.

2011-04-10T08:48:00.000-07:00

STORY TIME

Ever feel empowered after readin a good book, hearin a great song, or watchin a gripping movie? How about after listenin to a motivating speech or talk, or seein the home team come from behind to narrowly win it at the buzzer? The reason I ask is because on the slipcover of a book I recently read were printed the praiseful words, "This empowering book..." Now, although it was a good read and all, I gotta tell ya, I'd be lyin if I told ya that it left me feeling empowered. Inspired? Yea. But empowered? Eh, not so much.

Of course maybe if I'd written the book. Maybe if I'd spent countless hours dauntlessly gazing at the empty page pondering the exhaustive list of potential reasons why I can't or shouldn't write it and wrote it anyway, then I'd feel empowered. Maybe in the midst of a long and turbulent string of sleepless nights wrestling with the unthinkable idea of what if I don't do it I did it anyway, then I'd feel empowered. Maybe if in spite of all my doubts and fears I eventually conquered all my doubts and fears by simply buckling down and focusing on the work at hand, then I'd feel empowered. Maybe, just maybe, if after the better part of a good long while I had remained fully committed to doin that work and through it all finally proved to myself once and for all that I could do it, then, I would feel empowered.

Remember Taylor from the last time around, the 18-year-old girl who loves playin soccer but hates those dreaded running drills her coach doles out to the team during practice? Personally I felt that was a pretty inspiring story. But I'm guessin that if anyone was empowered by Taylor's story it had to be Taylor herself. I mean after all, she made the commitment, she put in the effort, she endured the pain, she took the necessary steps to find her stride, and after two tireless months of puttin her nose to the grindstone she's the one who hit it. Empowering? Hell yea! For Taylor.

The point is, inspiration is one thing, and if ya need some just take a look around. Because what you'll find is that while Taylor's story is a unique and personal one, it's also one that's not all that uncommon. If you're lookin to be empowered, however, well, that's another thing altogether. That's a whooole 'nother story. One I'm sure is just waitin to be written. Get my drift. See ya soon. Till then, keeep it up.

2011-03-14T11:14:00.000-07:00

TAYLOR MADE

I gotta level with ya, it felt pretty awkward puttin passion in its place last time around. But in all honesty I just couldn't resist, primarily for two reasons. First, when it comes to personal growth and achievement I know as well as anyone that deep down ingrained passion is priceless. But by and large it's somethin you're born with...or not. 3E on the other hand is somethin you work at, and that I'm reasonably convinced makes it somethin we can all potentially benefit from.

Secondly, even if ya do possess the passion, ya still gotta put in the effort, cause there's still plenty of work to be done. Passion may be priceless when you're chasin your dreams, but I can tell ya firsthand it's as worthless as God given talent or ability if that's all you're willing to bring to the table. Doin what'cha love requires a helluva lot more that just doin what'cha love, and I think the following excerpt from Success for Teens illustrates that pretty well.

In the book, Taylor, 18, tells of how she loves playing soccer, but has always hated doing running drills during practice to improve her conditioning. She has played soccer since the age of 5, but as she got older and the game got more competitive, her coaches made the team perform more running drills to stay in shape. Her team would spend the first hour of their three-hour practice on conditioning. And on the days they didn't have practice, her coach told the team to run three miles in 30 minutes.

"For the first month, I couldn't even finish the three miles," Taylor says. "I would stop at about two and a half because the pain was so great. It made me sick to my stomach to run that far. And there were days when I wouldn't run at all because I didn't feel like it."

Taylor thought maybe she could get away with not running, but during practice, it was obvious which players did and didn't complete their conditioning drills. She began lagging behind, unable to keep up with her teammates. She soon realized she was hurting her team, and their chances of reaching their goals at the end of the season.

From that point forward, on the days she didn't feel like running, Taylor made herself put on her shoes and work on her conditioning. "Even if I had to start slow, I realized I was at least trying, instead of sitting at home," she says. "The first day I could only do two miles in 30 minutes. It was slow and painful because I hadn't been running. But once I kept going, I could see myself getting faster, and as you see yourself getting faster, the easier it gets."

It took Taylor two months to be able to run three miles in 30 minutes. She was then able to play an entire soccer match without feeling worn out. Soon college coaches who were scouting her high school team started noticing her excellent conditioning. They sent her emails commending her on her ability to play at a high level the entire game. Ultimately, Taylor's willingness to make small strides toward her goals paid off big. She is now attending college on a scholarship and is playing soccer for the school team.

Kudos Taylor, for doin something you love, as well as, the other things that most of us don't. Or won't. See ya next time. Till then, keeep it up.

2011-02-18T17:21:00.000-08:00

THANKS ROSIE

Today I'd like to talk a little about one of Donald Trump's prerequisites for success. He talks about it often and always with a great deal of conviction. He claims that without it the chances of being successful dramatically decline. He is affectionately referring to passion, that strong and deep-seated love for what you do, and/or hope to do.

Kevin Hall, self-proclaimed word nerd and author of Aspire, argues that it's about more than just love. "Passion, as does path," he says, "comes from suffering. It means that you're willing to suffer for what you want. So the question isn't so much are you passionate, it's are you passionate enough to keep going; to finish what you started?"

Me, I consider myself an extremely passionate person, yet I'll be the first to admit that I've veered of the path more times than I care to remember. Nonetheless, I've always felt that passion is an integral part of any well-deserved success. So much so that I originally dubbed "Passion On" the unofficial motto of Ingzig. But as things continued to unfold I kept thinkin, "What if you're not brimming with passion? What if you don't have that certain somethin that lights a fire under your aspirations? Does that mean you don't have any worthwhile goals?" The more I thought about it the more I questioned whether passionate was in fact appropriate for Ingzig, and of course if not, what was? Alas, after a relatively short string of sleep-deprived nights it hit me.

Earnest: A synonym for determined, devoted, diligent, purposeful, constant, steady, sincere, and passionate, was just the constituent I was lookin for. It both fit and felt right, plus, our good friend passionate was part of it, but an equal part, no more no less, and for me that was critical. Because in the end, more so than anything else, Ingzig celebrates a process, one that requires some work, and that work (as any successful person will attest) isn't always (as passionate might imply) eloquent, emotional, heated or heartfelt. In fact just the other day I was watching an instructional video in which legendary rock drummer Tommy Aldridge was sharing his techniques for double bass playing, techniques he said he'd worked years at to perfect; work he himself described as "Boring, Boring, Boring." Now I'm not sayin Tommy isn't passionate about playin, on the contrary, not only do I think he's proven again and again that he's "passionate enough," but also, that passion alone simply isn't.

Make no mistake, if you're in hot pursuit of your passion, if you are indeed doin what you love consider yourself one of the lucky ones. Because the truth is you'd be hard pressed to find a greater source of motivation. On the other hand, if you haven't been blessed with this "rare" and precious gift try not to feel as though you've been short changed, because trust me, there's a whole lot more to it. So pull up your bootstraps, set some goals and hone some skills. Stay hungry, stay focused, and most importantly, stay disciplined. Honor the work involved by doin it, again and again. Granted, you may not always love it, but they'll come a time when you'll damn well appreciate it.

Note: Les Brown is a motivational speaker, coach, and best selling author who recently added radio celebrity to his resume. Not long ago I tuned in and lo and behold just before goin to a commercial break he urged his audience to call in and talk about their passion. "Tell me what's in your heart," he asserted. "What is it that gets you excited?" Upon his return to the air he immediately voiced his disappointment over the number of lines that lit up. "Come on people, I know you're out there," he exclaimed. "Surely there's somethin that gets ya outta bed in the mornin." Now I might be reading way too much into this but suffice it to say the somewhat dismal response to this reasonable request once again had me thinkin about all the good folks who (and I know you're out there) don't echo Mr. Brown's enthusiastic level of passion. However, at the same time I couldn't help but take a bit of comfort in the encouraging fact that we've all got some hopes and dreams, and that there's a really good chance that the only thing standin in the way of em comin true is a little Everyday "Earnest" Effort. See ya next time. Till then, keeep it up.

2011-01-10T14:21:00.000-08:00

HUNGRY NEW YEAR

Happy New Year! And I mean that. Then again what exactly does that mean? I mean "happy." What does happy really mean?

Now while the jury may still be out on the definitive interpretation of happiness, I'm guessin that you have a pretty good idea of what makes you happy. And so too apparently does University of Pennsylvania psychologist Martin Seligman. In his book, Authentic Happiness, he notes that in our ongoing quest for happiness most of us will no doubt find ourselves spending the better part of our lives pursuing pleasure. Yet he also points out that of the three "examined" components of happiness; pleasure, engagement, and meaning, it is pleasure that is the least consequential to a satisfying life, and that engagement and meaning are far more important.

Now as much as I enjoy the simpler pleasures I'm gonna have to agree with my man Marty on this one. Because when it gets down to a deeper level of happiness, the kind that tugs at the old heartstrings, those simple pleasures simply can't hold a candle to the sort of personal satisfaction that comes from being fully engaged in something truly meaningful, nor should we honestly ever expect em to.

When I started drummin again in '02 I wasn't unhappy, in fact, overall things were pretty good. Still I knew somethin was missin. At the time, I felt my life could largely be broken down (as well as summed up) into twenty-four hour time slots that aside from being chronologically connected were for the most part detached and independent of one another. Once I made the commitment to drummin, however, each day became intimately intertwined, there was a flow, a reassuring rhythm if you will. Suddenly, instead of frayed and fragmented, my life felt much more cohesive and coherent. Everyday was now more than just another day, it was another golden opportunity to build and improve on what I did the day before. Subsequently, I feel my life's become a steady and continuing work in progress, one with a newfound sense of meaning and purpose. And yea, this has all no doubt made me very happy, but better yet, it's made me hungry for more.

Speakin of that, tonight's opening night of the 2011 Supercross season and you can bet there's gonna be a horde of hungry riders out there ready to bang bars for that top spot on the podium. Motocross by the way is my all-time favorite sport, and after a relatively long off-season I'm probably as excited as anyone to see that gate drop. Throw in a pizza and a couple of beers and heck, I couldn't be happier...if ya know what I mean. See ya next time. Till then, keeep it up.

2010-12-24T12:26:00.001-08:00

FULL-TIME PART-TIME PROFESSION OR PASTIME

"Blessed is he who has found his work, let him ask for no other blessing"...Thomas Carlyle.

I've said it before and I'll say it again and again, "I absolutely envy and admire those who do what they love for a livin." With that said, I equally empathize with those who, like myself, aren't nearly as fortunate.

Last time around we recognized NHL all-star Teemu Selanne, prior to that I gave a shout out to Paul Rodgers, Charlie Parker and Pablo Picasso. I've touched on the prospect of Ingzig establishing a relationship with organizations such as NASCAR, the NFL, NBA, AMA, and Tour de France. Why? Because when it comes to work, engaging work, these guys got it down. No nine-to-five grind here; it's purely a labor of love.

Of course the harsh reality is that we can't all do what we enjoy professionally, but that certainly doesn't mean we can't learn a thing or two from those who do. The way I see it the aforementioned individuals and organizations not only symbolize some of the best in doin what'cha love for a livin, they also epitomize the art of Everyday Earnest Effort, and if the rest of us can apply a similar set of principles to our own ambitions we too can rein in the just rewards of a more fulfilling way of life. Now I know exactly what you're thinkin, "But that's what they do, it's their livelihood, I can't possibly invest that kind of time and effort." And that's OK, because 3E isn't only for those who are able to pursue their hopes and dreams full-time, it's for anyone who in their spare time is willing to make a full-time commitment. And according to Psychology Today magazine that's exactly what J.K. Rowling did during the most strenuous chapter of her life. "As a newly single mother struggling to support her daughter after the breakup of her marriage, Rowling committed herself to the dream of becoming a published novelist. It was 1994, and when baby Jessica would fall asleep Rowling would seize the moments of peace to furiously scribble out Tales of Harry Potter. The rest as they say, is literary history."

John Erskine, former concert pianist with the New York Philharmonic, as well as director of the Metropolitan Opera Association, learned one of the most valuable lessons of his life when he was only fourteen years old. His piano teacher asked him, "How many times a week do you practice, and how long do you practice each time?" He told her he tried to practice once daily, for an hour or more. "Don't do that" she responded. "When you get older time won't come in long stretches, practice in minutes, whenever you can find them; ten or fifteen before school, after lunch, and between chores. Spread your practice throughout the day and music will become part of your life."

So ya see, be it full-time, part-time, profession or pastime, both in good times and in bad, each of us has an opportunity to make the best of the time we have. "This time, like all times," said Ralph Waldo Emerson, "is a good one, if we know but what to do with it." Merry Christmas, see ya next time. Till then, keeep it up.

2010-11-23T12:26:00.000-08:00

DID YA FEEEL IT?

Let me just start by sayin that the last round was one of the toughest yet. It turns out tryin to accurately (and affectionately) describe the feelings brought on by 3E is no easy task. For all it's worth I gave it my best shot, still, I think I mighta come up short. Therefore, I'd like to share a story with ya that I think'll help sum it up. Or not.

In 2007 Teemu Selanne and the Mighty Ducks of Anaheim score a 4 to 2 victory over the Ottawa Senators in game 5 of the Stanley Cup Finals to win the 7 game series 4 to 1. Immediately following the game (we're talkin still on the ice) a reporter asks Teemu how it feels to finally win the Stanley Cup. For Selanne, (36) who grew up playing hockey in Finland before joining the NHL in '88 where he's gone on to amass numerous records and awards including the Bill Masterton Memorial Trophy, an honor awarded annually to the NHL player who best exemplifies perseverance, sportsmanship, and dedication to the sport, winning the Cup is a childhood dream come true, and clearly he's overwhelmed as he struggles to find a few choice words. "Incredible, unbelievable," exclaims the 6ft 200 lb right-winger in his pronounced Finnish accent. Fighting back the tears, he takes another stab at it, then another, yet try as he may it's plainly obvious that nothin can adequately express the way he feels.

"An experience" they say, "is altogether different from any words attempting to describe it." And sometimes, there simply are none. Selanne's certainly not the only one who's ever been at a loss for words when asked how it feels to have accomplished something that's taken years of personal commitment and sacrifice. The stories are endless, and the people they portray from all walks of life.

Personally, when I hear stories like these I too can't help but get a lil choked up. When I see the heartfelt emotion and ponder for a moment the unshakable discipline and dedication that helped stir it I'm completely blown away. And honestly, I think that's why it rattles me when I hear effort being labeled as something to avoid or forgo whenever possible. Because when exercised regularly and in full support of that which you "genuinely" hope to achieve, effort not only increases your likeliness to succeed, but instills a feeling that in all likelihood will never be surpassed.

Defining or describing that feeling? Well, that just might prove to be beyond the bounds of possibility. Honoring it, celebrating it, and supporting it, however, that we can do. Hope you'll join us. Happy Thanksgiving, see ya soon. Till then, keeep it up.

2010-10-27T11:14:00.000-07:00

CAN YA FEEEL IT?

I once heard it said, "Art isn't so much about how it looks, it's about how it makes you feel." And I'll be honest with ya, when it comes to personal growth and achievement I can't think of many feelings better than the ones that come from the art of Everyday Earnest Effort.

I say "the ones" because what I've noticed over the years (and this is purely my own experience, yours may be altogether different) is that there are essentially two clear-cut feelings or sensations that stem from 3E.

The first, although modest at best, is a feelin of accomplishment, and it comes from simply doin the little things day in and day out. Now take my word this isn't all that exciting so don't plan on gettin overly fired up and lettin out a big o' self-assured "YES!" just yet. The important thing is you did what'cha needed to do. Now just keep on doin it.

If ya listen to the experts it takes approximately 3 to 6 months to effectively change an old (or adapt a new) habit or behavior. I'd have to say it took me a while longer, just how long I'm not sure, but if there was a point when I felt I'd gotten on a roll and became moderately convinced that I had in fact established a new behavior in my daily routine it was when I started gettin pissed when I missed. Ya see when I first started drummin again in '02 I'd pretty much play whenever the urge hit me, if I was too tired oh well, if somethin better came along so be it, if I missed a string of days no big deal. But then, a couple of years into it, and after an unfortunate turn of events, I started playin virtually everyday without fail, and only then did I begin to uncover the built-in value of being brutally consistent. Don't get me wrong I'd still miss on occasion, only now, I knew exactly what I was missin.

What I'm gettin at is if nothin else, what 3E has taught me is to appreciate the process. From the outset I've touted Ingzig as a company that supports and celebrates both the benefits of and the honor in Everyday Earnest Effort, and this is what I mean by the honor in. It means dutifully and diligently doin the things that at the time seem insignificant and uninspiring. Honestly, do ya really think I get excited every time I sit down to play? Fat chance! But what I do get each and every time is a definite sense of accomplishment, knowin that at the end of the day I've done what I needed to do, and that, as uneventful as it may be, is a pretty good feeling.

The second feeling (although trust me this one is second to none) is the more magical of the two. Of course once you get to the point of feelin it you'll no doubt agree that it's anything but magical. It's somethin you've worked long and hard for, and there's nothin magical about that.

This being said, I must confess that over the years while sharpening my chops on the drum kit I've come across a few brief moments that felt nothin short of, you guessed it, magical. Tryin to sum up the feelin would be utterly unjust, but I can tell ya this, it's well worth the effort.

There's an old saying, "Life has its moments...this is one." There are also those rare and special moments we all live for...these are some of em.

Sadly, these fleeting moments are just that, but fret not, because while the magic of the moment may be short-lived, the long and ongoing discipline of daily practice is ever-present, and ultimately, it's here where you'll find that the real magic occurs.

Earlier I spoke about playin whenever the urge would hit, and that's great and all because truthfully after a 20 year hiatus it felt good just to be playin again. Yet by the same token not a whole lot was being accomplished. I certainly wasn't feelin the magic, momentary or otherwise. But then when I stumbled onto this regularity thing somethin "indescribable" took hold. Suddenly there was both purpose and progress. One determined effort spurred on another, then another, and consequently consistency became the goal, the new benchmark if you will, and yours truly was hittin it time and time again.

Needless to say I was pretty stoked. The ever-elusive powers of persistence were finally upon me and it was truly a beautiful thing. Where it'll all lead I really have no idea, but for the first time in a long time I can feel somethin brewin, and that, is a damn good feeling. Let me hear ya say "YES!" See ya next time. Till then, keeep it up.

2010-08-13T06:54:00.000-07:00

FILLOSOPHY 101

Pardon my self-indulgence last time around, but ever since the inception of Ingzig I've been rackin my brain on how to make this the quality company I know it can be. I kid you not when I say I wake up every morning thinkin about this sh^% and don't stop until I finally dose off that night. For me, it's become what Anthony Robbins describes as "Your Magnificent Obsession." Throw in the everyday demands of earnin a livin, routine chores and responsibilities, family, drummin, and now blogging! It's a full schedule, and I'll be honest with ya it can get a little overwhelming. At times it definitely feels as though my cup runneth over.

So...a professor stands before his Philosophy 101 class and on the counter in front of him sits a variety of items including a large empty jar. When class begins he fills the jar with golf balls then asks his students if the jar is full. They all agree it is. He then picks up a small box of pebbles and slowly pours then into the jar. He lightly shakes the jar and as he does so the pebbles trickle down into the jar filling the gaps between the golf balls. Once again he asks the students if the jar is full. They agree that it is. The professor then picks up a sack of sand and pours it into the jar. This of course fills any remaining spaces in the jar, and again he asks the question. The students respond with a resounding yes! Then, he pops open two cans of beer and pours the entire contents of each into the jar. The students are dumbfounded. "Now," says the professor, "I want you all to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the most important things; your health, your family and friends, your deepest desires and favorite passions. Those things that if everything else was lost and only they remained your life would still feel complete. The pebbles also represent things of importance, things like your home and your job. The sand, well, it represents the small stuff. The little (often materialistic) things that we've all come to love but in a pinch could surely do without." "If you fill the jar with sand first," he continues, "there is no room for the pebbles or golf balls. And the same is true in life." One of the students then raises their hand and inquires, "So what's the beer represent?" The professor smiles. "I'm glad you ask," he says. "It just goes to show that no matter how full your life may be, there's always room for a couple of beers." Cheers, see ya soon. Till then, keeep it up.

2010-07-27T19:53:00.000-07:00

TIMING IS EVERYTHING

What the *&%#$ am I thinkin? After all this talk about Everyday Earnest Effort what's timing got to do with anything. Not a whole helluva lot actually, but it was definitely on my side last Friday night.

Music as you know has a very special place in my life, and this past week we went to see one of my all-time favorite bands: Bad Company. I dig these guys and have seen em numerous times over the years. But I especially didn't want to miss this opportunity because 1) it'd been awhile since the original lineup performed together, and 2) unlike in their heyday when they were sellin out huge arenas, they were playin at a relatively small venue; a hotel/casino in not so far away Indio CA.

For us it's about a 100 mile drive, one which on a Friday night however can easily take every bit of two hours. We got on the road around 4:30, the concert was scheduled to begin at 8:00. Sure enough the traffic sucked! We finally arrived at about 7:15, checked in and got up to the room just in time to settle in and unwind.

In typical tailgate fashion I brought along a small ice chest with a couple of cold ones. Hey this ain't Vegas, beers are five bucks a pop on the casino floor and twice that inside the show. Anyhow we're in the room, I'm twistin one open and my wife asks me if I would go get some fresh ice for margaritas (OK so it's not that small of an ice chest). I politely tell her that as soon as I finish this first beer I'll go grab some. Beer downed, thirst quenched, I grab the ice bucket and fling open the door. Who walks past at that very instant? Mr. Paul *%^$# Rodgers of Bad Company.

Now I know I said I dig these guys, but Paul in particular is someone I've personally admired from afar for a long long time. Easily top 10 on my list of rock n' roll royalty. So we make eye contact, cordially acknowledge one another, shake hands, and off he goes. "Honey! You'll never guest who I just met, Paul Rodgers!" "Cool" she says, "did ya get the ice?"

In short it was an incredible night. The show was great, the band in top form, and my close friend Paul, well, that rich baritone voice of his is as iconic and soulful as ever. He's still beltin em out after all these years. See ya next time. Till then, keeep it up.

2010-07-22T19:17:00.000-07:00

Y3E

So of all the virtues, qualities, and traits commonly associated with pursuing your dreams, why Everyday Earnest Effort? Why not some glorified old mainstay like strength, courage, faith or hope? Why not God given talent or ability? How bout heart, passion and desire?

Well here's the deal. Like many of us I too am fortunate enough to have inherited many of the aforementioned qualities. Ya see for much of my life I (like many of us) have had to muster up the strength and courage to get up each morning and face the days challenges. And ever since flingin papers, flippin burgers, and poundin nails I've had faith in that if I work hard good things will come my way. And yes, throughout all of it I've remained incurably hopeful that, well...you know, maybe someday. Because after all, I'm a pretty talented guy, and deep down I know that I (like many of us) have the ability to do whatever I set my mind to.

So ya see I have been blessed, I am gifted, but I gotta tell ya, these blessings, these gifts as precious as they may be, simply aren't enough when it comes down to the practicalities of pursuing your dreams. I can tell you from decades of experience that all the strength, courage, faith, and hope in the world cannot and will not make me a better drummer if I don't sit my ass down behind the kit and practice. And that talent and ability alone will only take ya so far. Heart, passion, and desire, hell I got truck loads. But again, I can assure you that without a daily dose of some good ol' 3E I might as well kiss my dreams and any other long term goals goodbye.

I can also tell you that since stickin with it, a host of other virtues have begun to come forward in an amazing show of support. Steve Chandler, in his book, Reinventing Yourself, writes, "Most of my life had been wasted waiting for faith and courage to show up, I thought it was something I needed up front, but come to find out I had the whole process reversed. Faith, confidence and courage only come later, they are the rewards, not the requirements for action."

In addition to being a rock hard "requirement," another reason 3E got the nod is because I'm a sucker for the underdog, and in many ways 3E epitomizes that. Author, scholar, and Zen philosopher Alan Watts used to say he hated the word "discipline" because it had so many negative connotations. Yet he also knew the key to fully mastering and enjoying any activity was in the discipline. The same goes for effort. I mean let's be honest, it's never been a fan favorite. Strength, desire, passion, these are typically the decorated players in personal growth and achievement; the "stars" of the show. 3E's not a show horse, it's a plow horse, and that as unfortunate as it may be, is rarely if ever looked upon as a star quality these days.

You might also be wonderin why we chose 3E over persistence, perseverance, and/or diligence. Determination and tenacity may also come to mind, and so they should. After all they too are plow horse type qualities. Yet if you think about it not only does each one imply a steady application of ongoing effort, but in order to be effective, requires it.

All in all there's a long list of reasons why we chose 3E to be our unofficial motto. It's from the heart and to the point, straight forward tried and true. It's pure and simple, black and white. Unmistakably down to earth, yet ultimately up to you. It's understandable, recognizable, easily accessible and definitely doable. It's joyful, painful, and at times quite a handful. It's low key, yet highly effective. It isn't about havin it or not havin it (i.e. faith, courage, strength, passion or talent). It's about rollin up your sleeves and doin it! It's not about ability, it's about accountability. It's slow yet steady, and like a good friend there whenever you're ready. It makes sense and costs nothing. In essence, it's everything. Or shall I say, more than you could ever possibly hope for. See ya next time. Till then, keeep it up.

2010-07-04T20:27:00.000-07:00

THE HORN SECTION

Charlie "Yard bird" Parker, jazz legend and saxophone extraordinaire once said, "If you don't live it, it won't come outta your horn.

By now you know just how much I admire people who, like Yard bird, dedicate their entire lives to doin what they love. As far back as I can remember it's something I've looked up to. Unfortunately it's also something I've far from lived up to.

So why in the world then when it comes to bulldogged persistence would you listen to an ill-suited windbag like me? Well, for starters, I too like those teary-eyed newspapermen in Terry Hills story have wept for the winner in all of us. I too know firsthand the aching and ailing effects of untapped greatness. For nearly four decades inconsistency has gnawed away at any seemingly valid attempt I've made at realizing my own dreams, leaving behind little more than a legacy of good intentions. So you see from that standpoint I have lived it. I've lived it to the very fullest, and I'd like nothin better than to encourage you to live it differently.

From the beginning as the idea of Ingzig began to take shape I'd often talk to my brother Ron about my eagerness to help others, and during one of our early conversations he said, "Well, you know what they say, 'if ya wanna lift people up ya gotta get to higher ground.'" Until then I'd honestly never heard anyone say that, nevertheless, it hit home. It got me to realize that if I'm gonna do this I really gotta do this. If I'm gonna talk the talk, I gotta walk the walk.

And so it's been for the past seven years that I've done my best to perfect the art of Everyday Earnest Effort. Have I succeeded? Not entirely, I still falter now and again (old habits are a bitch). But I do feel I've made some significant strides in the right direction, and I've done so one small and consistent step at a time.

In the words of Dr. Robert Maurer, "While the steps may be small, what we're reaching for is not." Stuff that in your horn and blow it. Happy 4th, see ya next time. Till then, keeep it up.

2010-06-19T13:46:00.000-07:00

GETTIN PERSONAL

For the past few weeks we've been goin on and on about missions, goals, and products. So today I thought we'd get a little more personal.

My name's Pat Lange, founder and "3EO" of Ingzig. I'm a pacifistic idealistic kid at heart whose favorite sports are motocross and ice hockey. Yet regardless of the type of competition chances are you'll find me rootin for the underdog. I absolutely adore music and have been playin drums and dashboards on and off since I was thirteen. I'm a deeply impassioned person with an undermining tendency to be more moved than motivated, and little if anything moves me more than seein someone successfully doin what he or she loves. And quite frankly, little has affected me more adversely over the years than my own inability to make the same claim.

In the short story Cafes Are For Handicapping, a story Steve Chandler refers to in his book 100 Ways to Motivate Yourself, Terry Hill writes about a character named Joe Warner, a reporter who was in the press box at Belmont when the now legendary Secretariat put away the Triple Crown by 31 lengths. "I looked around me as he was coming down the stretch, and all these hardened cigar-chomping New York newspapermen had tears running down their cheeks like little babies. Of course I couldn't see too clearly myself for the tears in my own eyes."

"This story," says Steve Chandler, "brings me closer to a question I've been asking all my life: why do we get all choked up when witnessing great accomplishments?" "My theory," he explains, "is that we weep for the winner in all of us, that in poignant moments like these we cry because we know for a fact that there is something in us that could be every bit as great as what we are watching. We are, for the moment, the untapped greatness we are seeing, and we get tears in our eyes because we know that greatness isn't being realized."

The reason I bring it up here is because this story, along with Mr. Chandler's interpretation of it, pretty much describes me to a tee. You see for most of my life I too have watched others pursue their dreams while I passively sit on the sidelines thinkin, "I could do that." And I mean that quite literally. Ya see for years I'd buy concert tickets that were far from the most coveted seats in the house, opting instead for those that were way off to the side of the stage where I could get a much better look at the drummer. And there I'd vicariously sit, thinkin, "man that could be me." The sad thing is I still do the same thing today; watchin, wonderin, what if I'd stuck with it?

At thirteen I honestly had no idea of the impact my on-again-off-again relationship with drummin would have on the rest of my life. And today at fifty-one I can't even begin to tell ya. But hey, the good news is that for the past seven years (my longest stint to date) I've once again been playin on a regular basis. And I gotta say it's been both moving and motivating. Like the Charmin, I'm on a roll. See ya next time. Till then, keeep it up.

2010-06-06T15:59:00.000-07:00

TEE TIME

Amidst all the uproar of racetracks and arenas last time around you may recall a remote reference to t-shirts. And that's what we're gonna talk about today, because as ambitious as our goals might be, as sincere and excited as we are about pursuing them, for now t-shirts (and a handful of stickers) are all we've got to rave about.

From its nineteenth century origins as something with a Henley neck and buttons to its current iconic status, the t-shirt (a personal favorite here at Ingzig) has become an American staple. And while we have absolutely no intentions of building a reputation as a clothing company, we're convinced that this beloved classic is a perfect fit.

Now as much as we'd like to tell ya our t-shirts are made of some of the finest fabrics from around the globe, and that we covertly whisk off to undisclosed exotic locations in search of these indigenous textiles, the truth is these threads are pretty much your run of the mill stuff. But once again, even here our prospective goals are nothin short of ambitious. Meaning that while we can't expect to be top of the line right outta the gate, we will and continually do strive to offer up the highest quality products possible.

What we feel is most essential right now, however, is that our growing line of products continue to reflect our foremost values and vision. And thus far, each and every individual design is in its own unique and spirited way doing exactly that by giving a well-deserved nod to the unadorned art of Everyday Earnest Effort, as well as, together representing an integral part of a much anticipated greater good.

Here at Ingzig we have a number of philanthropic programs we hope to introduce in the near future, and the success of our products will be instrumental toward implementing them. After all it's about much more than simply spreading the good word, it's about sharing some good will.

So the question remains, do you need to be wearing an Ingzig original to realize your own potential? Of course not, and we'll be the first to tell ya that. Like Lieutenant Kaffee said to Lance Corporal Dawson in the film A Few Good Men, "You don't need to wear a patch on your arm to have honor." However, with that said we'd be no less than honored if you chose one of our products to help celebrate that potential to the very fullest. Thanks for your continued support. See ya next time. Till then, keeep it up.

2010-05-31T07:03:00.000-07:00

JUST A REMINDER

Today we're doin something that we probably won't be doin all that often: sharing some statistics. Tabulating data isn't really our thing but we felt it was important to begin this entry by laying down a few established facts. In the opener we noted that today more than ever people are looking for a more satisfying way of life, this according to numerous studies including one rather extensive one in Time magazine. Now while this in itself isn't all that surprising, what is surprising and a bit disturbing actually, is that the numbers indicate that it's nearly 70% of all Americans. That's about 213 million of us! In addition, every year approximately 5000 books on personal and professional achievement hit the shelves. That's 13 a day! Ten years ago there were about 1500 certified Life Coaches working in the U.S., today there's an estimated 20,000. All total, the personal development industry is said to be $11 billion strong, and again that's here in the U.S. alone.

This clearly shows that people are in fact looking for something more, and that there's a wealth of information available that can help. The aforementioned resources have proven to be invaluable when it comes to this and we encourage anyone so inclined to take full advantage of all they have to offer. Here at Ingzig, however, we're doin things a little differently.

English author Samuel Johnson said, "People often need to be reminded more that they need to be instructed," and that in essence is our mission. Wherever you see the Ingzig name, logo and/or 3E motto, be it on a t-shirt or on a sticker, at the races or inside the arena, you'll be keenly reminded of the unexpected power of this gentle art called Everyday Earnest Effort.

Races! Arenas! Sounds a bit ambitious right? It is. But hey, if M&M's and Tide can get on the hood of NASCAR why can't we? If Best Buy and OSH can adorn the boards of the NHL why can't we? If AT&T, Bud Light, Ford, Fed Ex, Taco Bell, State Farm, Monster Energy and Radio Shack can be a part of the NBA, NFL, Motocross/Supercross and the Tour de France why the @$%#& can't we? After all, which of the following better reflects the very kind of personal commitment it takes to wholeheartedly pursue a worthwhile dream, "Plain or Peanut?" or "Everyday Earnest Effort?"

And who better to help spread the word than those individuals who've made such a commitment, and in turn, have become so highly recognized and even revered for their efforts? Steve Chandler, noted author and speaker says, "That's what's missing in our field of personal growth and achievement, we need to share this experience not teach it."

Nothin personal mind you, but here at Ingzig we feel it's time personal achievement got an "ingzigorating" kick in the words of Alan Webber, co-founder of Fast Company magazine, a leading business publication described as a cross between Harvard Business Review and Rolling Stone, "If you make education too bland, nobody's gonna wanna swallow it."

In other words, it's time to rock this thing! See ya soon. Till then, keeep it up.

2010-05-18T09:49:00.000-07:00

IT'S ALL A BUNCH OF CRAFT

Although we intended to discuss how Ingzig plans on spreading the good word about the unadorned art of Everyday Earnest Effort this time around, we thought before we do that we oughta tell ya that from the get go we've been on the fence about the word "art." This dilemma exists for two reasons 1) we feel it's a term that's been highly overused in popular culture and thereby rendered a bit trite or trivial; a cliche if you will, and 2) in essence Everyday Earnest Effort isn't really an art form at all, it's much more akin to a craft. Yet the overwhelming feeling here at Ingzig is that an unwavering commitment to craft is in its own "unadorned" way an incredibly beautiful thing, therefore, an art.

A woman was strolling along a street in Paris when she spotted Picasso sketching at a nearby sidewalk cafe. She impulsively asked him if he would sketch her. Picasso obliged, and in just a few brief minutes there she was, an original Picasso. "And what do I owe you?" she asked. "Five thousand franc," (about 4900 bucks today) he answered. "But it only took you a few minutes, " she politely reminded him. "No," Picasso said. "It's taken me nearly all my life." So you be the judge. Where do you feel the real beauty is here? On the canvas, or in Picasso's lifelong commitment to his craft?

There's no question that the spotlight will always shine brightest on the results of our efforts rather than on our commitment to them, and so it should. Because in all fairness (and these are just a couple of examples) when you listen to an accomplished musician perform or watch a top-notch athlete compete, the level of artistry is truly a thing of beauty, and thereby fully deserves center stage.

However! The underlying beauty is that these celebrated individuals weren't always so skilled or accomplished at what they do. Nor was it talent or ability alone that made them the "artists" that they are. Like Picasso, they too had to work long and hard at their respective craft, and that is certainly something we can all do.

As one noted art historian put it, "An artist is not a special kind of person, but every person a special kind of artist."

In the end we've decided to go with our gut and stick with "the art of" Everyday Earnest Effort. Although to remain abidingly true to our core mission we will periodically refer to the word art as an acronym. Because as aspiring artists we need to "always remember that" (A.R.T.) in order to become an artist we first need to hone our craft. And in order to do that we need to develop the necessary skills. And, in order to do that, ya simply gotta put in the time and effort. Ahh, the beauty of it all. See ya next time. Till then, keeep it up.

2010-05-12T20:14:00.000-07:00

GET ON YOUR BIKES AND RIDE

Welcome back. As you know, last time we introduced ourselves and talked a little about who we are and what we do. Today we thought we'd continue with why we're doin it in the first place.

Do you recall when you were first learning how to ride a bike? If so, you probably can still picture that certain someone scurrying along your side doling out well-intended words of encouragement as you frantically shimmied to and fro. Or maybe you were so overcome with fear at the time that all those well-intended words fell on deaf ears, drowned out by a pestering little voice in your head that had you thoroughly convinced the invention of the wheel wasn't such a great idea after all. In any case, chances are you carried on, and with each and every attempt you managed to keep your bike just a tiny bit steadier and ride it just a little bit further than you did the time before. In turn, your confidence began to grow, and instinctively you knew right then and there that if you just stayed with it you'd eventually prevail. Well, odds are you did, and at that very moment if you could've somehow found the courage to loosen up on that vise-like grip you'd have clinched your fists and thrown up your arms in an almost uncontrollable display of joy and excitement.

Now depending on your goal(s) you might have to wait a little longer before you actually begin to rejoice. But the point is, at one time or another we've all battled some fears, beaten the odds, and accomplished something we felt really good about; something that took a bit of time and effort to achieve. And the cool thing is, much like ridin a bike, once you've done it, you rarely if ever forget how.

Everyday Earnest Effort is nothing new, and it's certainly not something we've forgotten how to do. It is, however, in this day and age of immediate gratification something that's constantly overshadowed by that which is quick, easy, and instant.

Author and Life Design Coach Martha Beck says, "We're yearning for a powerful source of liberation that's right under our noses, yet it's quite clear that we'll do almost anything to avoid it." Entrepreneur Magazine put it this way. "We often give lip service to the idea that success, happiness, and personal fulfillment take some effort to achieve, but in our day-to-day lives we think, 'I don't want to work that hard.'"

The simple truth is this: while an immediate payoff may in fact be more desirable, hard earned returns, those that truly do take some considerable time and effort, are far and away more rewarding. And here at Ingzig we intend on reminding you again and again, just how rewarding they can be. See ya next time. Till then, keeep it up.

2010-04-22T07:16:00.000-07:00

INTRODUCING INGZIG

Welcome, to the first ever blog cast from your good friends at Ingzig. We're a So.Cal. based company that supports and celebrates the unadorned art of Everyday Earnest Effort, aka, "3E."

Our core mission is to shine a refreshing new light on this reliable old standard, because the fact of the matter is, today more so than ever people are looking for a more satisfying way of life. Yet when it comes right down to it often the last thing they wanna hear is the "Ef" word. And that's a damn shame, because the truth of the matter is, few things on the planet are more satisfying than working diligently at something you'd genuinely like to achieve.

Thanks a bunch for takin the time to check us out. We look forward to seein ya soon. Till then, keeep it up!