Tell the Truth, All the Time, with Compassion

I'm not sure I'm allowed to use this picture of David Wood, but I'm going to do it anyway, and I suspect David will not sue me for it. He's not that kind of guy.

I discovered David Wood via Dean Dwyer, who interviewed him about his remarkable life - growing up in England, leaving school at 15, working as a window washer, then travelling the world for over 10 years before settling in Canada and becoming a multi-millionaire.

David is a "trainer's trainer" - he discovered that his passion lay in helping people lead the lives they want, and that is a quest I am quite serious about these days (heck, I'm fifty years old and STILL not sure what I want to be when I grow up, although I'm getting a better idea thanks to people like Dean and David). I've been listening to his podcast The Kickass Life for a few months now, and enjoying it very much. So why am I blogging about it now?

I got a little behind with the podcasts, what with the holidays and all, and was listening to Podcast number 053,  released on October 30th, while doing my Shabbat cooking yesterday. I was stunned to hear him read out and praise a review that I'd left on iTunes a little while back. It's about 4 minutes in. In particular, I'd forgotten that I'd mentioned one line of his, which had caught Dean Dwyer's attention and also mine. Here it is:

Tell the truth, all the time, with compassion.

 Now, I don't think of  myself as a liar, but you know those casual little white lies we all indulge in - saying we were caught in traffic when we really left the house too late, for example. It really is a trivial thing, but I think it shows a deeper mindfulness to find a way to apologise for being late without lying or being hurtful.

It's also a matter of courage, of taking responsibility for your decisions. If I decide to keep one of my kids home from school because I think they need the day off, I don't say they are sick. I don't hide receipts from my husband and I don't sneak things into my kids' food.

Sometimes life is harder when you decide to tell the truth all the time, but so far I haven't regretted it. My late grandmother was the kind to rub your face in her version of the truth whether you wanted it or not, and that's not what I'm doing. I might choose not to volunteer information if I can't think of a compassionate way of sharing it. But I think it is a great maxim to live by.

What do you think?

A big step!

I did it! I applied for the Amazon Associates program. If they accept me, I will be able to post links for you, my faithful readers, to buy stuff from them, and I will get a small commission each time you do.

I've hesitated about this for a long time. I've not enabled AdSense or any other kind of advertising on my blog, because I myself don't like blogs that are covered in ads, and I didn't want mine to be like that.

I've been listening to the podcasts of a guy called David Wood. He's an Englishman who grew up in poverty, left school at 15 and spent 10.5 years of his life backpacking through the world. He then became involved in multi-level marketing and other such businesses and became wealthy, but he also discovered that his passion lay in helping people achieve a better life. He became a trainer who goes around the world speaking to people and enthusing them to have what he calls "a kickass life".

One of the characteristics of a kickass life is the ability to look at oneself and the world with clarity and love, and to try new things as fearlessly as you can manage. Not to mention laughing a lot, which is something I try to do anyway, but now I have the endorsement of a major figure!

So one of the things I want to do is to take baby steps towards supporting myself and my family with the writing I do online. Affiliate links are a particularly painless way of doing that, both for myself and for you - they will be clearly labeled, they will only be for things I really recommend, and they won't clutter up the blog with noisy garbage neither of us wants to see.

In my fearful imagining, you are immediately repulsed by the entire idea, nobody ever comes to read this blog again, and my life loses all meaning.

In reality, I'm hoping you are mildly curious and not disapproving. Let me know if you feel strongly otherwise. It won't happen for a while, as I now wait with trepidation for Amazon's judgement - and yours.