June 24, 2008

Are You Prepared to Die? I Was!

Whenever I think about the possibility--no, the inevitability--of dying, I get petrified. While I try not to think about it, I know that sooner or later my heart will give out and this life as I know will cease to exist.

Tim Russert's death was a shock to the system, as was the death of my father 18 years ago, and when I actually stop to think about how I'll go--in my sleep, automobile accident, mugging, what have you--I'm never quite okay with it. While I have no specific long term goals or bucket list of things that I feel I absolutely must do before checking out, I still have no interest in leaving, and certainly feel that at the moment when I take my last breath, like many people, I'll be disappointed for not having done all that I could and should.

With that as the backdrop for this post, the other day, for a good 15 minutes, while boarding a plane for the 1,700 mile journey from Chicago's O'Hare Airport to Santa Ana's John Wayne Airport, I was completely comfortable with the prospect of my plane falling out of the sky with me in it. Call it an epiphany or total resignation to the prospect of dying right then and there but I was ready.

Back up 45 minutes and you'd see I had just arrived at my gate for the 3 hour and 46 minute flight home from three days of speaking about the benefits of blogging to online retailers attending the seventh annual eBay Live! Community conference and expo at the McCormick Place Convention Center in Chicago, Illinois. The conference, while poorly attended in comparison to previous eBay Live! conferences, was an excellent event for me as a business blogging advocate and educator. The accolades I received from nearly every single person who attended one of my three workshops was nothing less than spectacular, without exception (I know, that sounds so self-congratulatory, but considering my state of heath throughout the event--I was running a fever and my voice was nearly shot--I was actually, for once, quite proud of myself and my co-presenter, former eBay University instructor and entrepreneur Steve Lindhorst).

While attending the event, I had the opportunity to reconnect with old friends and business associates, many of which experienced tremendous personal and business growth since the last eBay Live! event in Boston. (As an aside, one friend lost more than 60 pounds, while another was finally hitting his stride in reaching eBay sellers with the kind of educational material that is truly making a difference in their lives, not to mention in the lifecycle of his own business. To be surrounded by such savvy and compelling people was an honor as well as an inspiration. I even connected with someone who reminded me about the power of positive thinking, and another--a business owner--who acknowledged my contributions while working on a competitive account a few year back.)

With that as the backdrop for my trip to the airport ... here's what happened next:

• The moment I arrived at gate B-20, an announcement was made that my flight was overbooked and passengers were welcome to come forward to volunteer their seats in exchange for a guaranteed seat on a later flight (and a free round-trip ticket to be used at any point over the next year).
• Since free travel is the next best thing to free food, I gladly offered up my seat and patiently sat in the closest seat I could find to the ticket counter.
• If you know me, it comes as no surprise that I started a conversation with the person seated next to me.
• Fairly quickly, I learned that she worked for a Chicago-based sports marketing firm and was traveling to Las Vegas to coordinate an event.
• Her client, it turns out, manufactures and distributes a popular a nutrition bar. (Coincidentally, I have a client who manufactures and distributes a nutrition bar.)
• She asks me what I do... I explain, mentioning along the way my passion and know-how in business and corporate blogging, and she mentions that she's starting a new business (sports-related) and asks if a blog would help that business.
• Yada, yada, yada... we talk, it all makes sense, we exchange business cards, hint at the prospect of working together, and wrap it up... or so I thought.

What happened next prepared me to die.

Somehow we got to talking about age. (I think I asked where she went to college, what she studied, what year she graduated and she said--at some point--"Are you trying to figure out how old I am?")

Once we exchanged ages, she lamented that she felt at her age (32) she should have by now accomplished a lot more (like many of her friends), which is why she hardly ever tells anyone how old she is. For my part, I told her that I once too felt the exact same way. I shared that when I lived in Colorado, whether by design or coincidence, I was surrounded by very successful people, almost of whom were at least five to10 years younger than me, had significantly higher net worth's than me, and were consistently recognized by our professional peers, industry trade groups, the local media, and mutual business peers and friends as being the cream of crop at such young ages.

I then shared that had I accomplished what she had by her age (Ivy League graduate, MBA student, gainfully employed by an emergent sports marketing management firm, trusted to be the coordinator of a major series of pro golf events around the country, yada yada, that I'd feel differently... that I would most likely feel exceptional, on top of my game, with nothing but a really bright future ahead.

I also told her that for me, the defining moment for how I valued myself (back in Colorado after spending years unfairly comparing myself to others) was when I learned and truly started to live the following concept:

All there is is what happens and what you choose to believe about it. And, related... All there is is what other people say or do and what you choose to believe about it.

Once I understood the freedom associated with living a life with that notion by my side, I told her, my life--and the lives of the people closest to me--became infinitely simpler and way more enjoyable.

Now, at that moment, knowing I had been added to the "I'll volunteer my seat" list and that I had chosen to sit next to her simply because I wanted quick access when the ticket agent would call my name to confirm my free travel voucher, the young woman said something like:

I believe that all things happen for a reason, and I am so glad we got to connect. I truly believe that my flight to Vegas was delayed for a reason, and that you were put here for a reason. I am just so glad that you chose to give up...

We interrupt this cliche to announce...

Belicove, Mikal Belicove, please see the agent at Gate B-20; Mikal Belicove, please see the agent at Gate B-20!!

Long story short, even though I was the first person to volunteer my seat, my seat was no longer needed. Seat 7E--a middle seat--was all mine and was waiting for my pear-shaped body to submit.

When I turned to go back to where my carry-on bag was laying, with a frown on my face for having lost the opportunity to score a free ticket and dialogue further with this woman (and no, I wasn't hitting on her, Steve; she was married and we had already covered that ground), I could tell that she too was sad but also grateful for the moment.

But before I left to board the plane, I took a notebook out and asked if I could share one more concept that sort of changed my life and that she too may appreciate exploring further. With her encouraging nod of approval, I began to draw what I've coined my "Possibilities versus Expectations Paradigm," which I explain through this somewhat humorous college-related example:

Remember when you were in college and you called your boyfriend up on the phone and invited him over to your dorm room to watch a movie? Around 30 minutes later, he shows up with his hair all combed, teeth brushed, and smelling like he'd just been quick-dipped in a bottle of Drakkar Noir Cologne for Men by Guy Laroche.

Much to your boyfriend's surprise, when he walks through the door to your dorm room, sitting there on the floor smack-dab in front of the television is your roommate, Karen, who just may be the most annoying person ever admitted to any institution of higher learning. At that moment, your boyfriend realizes you meant watch a movie, not "watch a movie" (i.e., make out).

When one travels down the road called "Expectation" (as in the example above), and they hit a roadblock or significant pothole, they get thrown off course, become lost, and experience a sense of anger, disappointment, and resentment. If they ever do make it back onto Expectation Blvd., chances are that the journey will be hampered and limited by what happened in the past.

On the other hand, when one chooses to travel to the same location but via a different road--the one called "Possibility"--when faced with the exact same roadblock or bump in the road, navigating around the obstacle--while still challenging--is a heck of lot easier and a lot less painful because right on the other side of Possibility Drive's pothole is more hope, intention, and most importantly... more possibilities.

Here's a reproduction of what I used as the visual aid:

The look in her eyes upon having heard and seen this paradigm was touching, and her comment as I ripped the crumpled page from my notebook and asked her if she wanted it to reflect on later, was priceless. Again, she reconfirmed the notion that everything happens for a reason, and thanked me with a look that said more than words ever could.

As I walked back to the ticket agent to gain access to the crowded walkway to the plane, I turned around and waved a sort of goodbye, and in that moment I thought to myself that if indeed everything does happen for a reason and my plane were to fall out of the sky at some point over the next 3 hours and 46 minutes, I'd be completely at peace, because I felt that in that moment that I may have made enough of a difference in someone else's life that my own may have finally had some significant measure of meaning.

Quite egotistically, I envisioned news of my death eventually reaching her, and somehow--and I know, this is just absolutely absurd--that the sheet of paper that I left with her would make its way out to the rest of the world and impact millions and billions of people (in part because of the whole "everything happens for a reason" thing). A book would be written, Oprah would add it to her reading list, a foundation would be established and my last name would somehow become synonymous with the Possibilities versus Expectations Paradigm.

As I boarded the plane, I remained committed to my newfound belief that if it were all to end now, it would end in the spirit of a life having made a difference in the survival and advancement of others.

Some 15 minutes later--as a flight attendant said something to this effect: In the event of a change of cabin pressure, panels above your head will open revealing oxygen masks. Remain seated with your seatbelts fastened. Pull a mask down towards you to active the flow of oxygen. Oxygen will be flowing to the mask even though the bag may not inflate. Cover your nose and mouth with the mask, place the elastic band around your head and continue to breathe normally. Remember to secure your own mask before assisting other.--I no longer felt as I did before. Death was no longer an option!

Obviously, my flight did not fall out of the sky and I did make it home with nothing more than my own memory of the experience. At the outset of this entry, I posted Andy Warhol's quote about fame. In a similar vain, I now wonder if the same holds true:

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