I try post one decent thing a week, usually on Friday.
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I’ve been looking at the hundreds of resumes I’ve received, I conducted just shy of one hundred interviews last week, and a few people have asked me for resume critiques lately. It seems like a good time for some job seeking advise. Keep in mind that I spent more than a year failing to find a job, so don’t put too much stock in anything I have to say.
3 votes 
Loading ...I was fired from my job more than a year and a half ago, although I was asking myself, “What now?” before that. I wanted something else, but I didn’t know what that looked like, so I was excited about the prospect of finding out. My search for a dream job didn’t wrap up into a neat result like I thought it would. It’s been eighteen months, and my temporary retirement has altered my ideas about a number of things, like long term retirement (no longer a goal), and a dream job.
I put significant effort and time into figuring out what I was looking for. What am I good at, have skill in, and enjoy? I wrote a mission statement, a one page resume, and then I talked to employers, agencies, friends, contractors, consultants, CEO’s, and one man shows. What came out of all that writing and talking was a confirmation that my dream job is not a destination, but an ever changing target. When I thought about it, I’ve had a number of jobs I loved, but they changed, or I outgrew them. So I threw away the idea of “finding” a dream job and focused more on the notion that its creation is an ongoing process.
The other more interesting thing that developed was the realization that I wanted a more unified approach to life. When I had finally written down my values, skills, goals, experience, and mission, I looked at these lists and wondered why I wouldn’t apply all of that to every aspect of my life. A dream job seemed short sighted now, what I wanted was a dream life.
It struck me that I was applying radically different approaches to creating happiness in my job and the rest of my life, based on the arbitrary distinction that I made money at one thing and not the other. Thus was born my notion of taking a more unified approach to life. In practical terms, I’m not entirely sure what that means yet, but the idea feels promising.
In related job news, my wife and I are opening a restaurant. Restaurant ownership has always appealed to us, but starting an independent restaurant sounded like a fairly good way for me to lose a lot of money. We are opening a franchise restaurant you Canadian prairie folks might be familiar with. It’s an upscale pub; good food and beer.
Opening will be in the fall (September?). I’ll be managing, for a couple of years, and then I’d like to turn the reigns over. So, if you know of anyone in the service industry, who lives in Victoria, BC, let them know I’m an awesome boss and I’m shopping around for someone to eventually replace me in that role.
One of the other things I looked seriously into doing was home construction. Legos were my favourite toy as a kid, which lead to a Civil Engineering degree, and then a decked out workshop. I like to build stuff. I had some specific ideas of the type of projects I wanted to be involved in, but could find no way to get into that work, so I’m going to do it myself.
I have sketchbooks dating back to high school with clippings of house plans, sketches of rooms, and random architectural details. I’ve wanted to design and build my own house ever since I realized that’s something a person could do. So, I am going to, and I’m giddy about the idea.
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Soldiering, as it turns out, is not my calling. I don’t want to say, “a square peg in a round hole.” Not just because it’s tired, but also, it’s not quite right. It’s more that, my inclination, when asked to put a peg in a hole, is to say, “Right. Um, and, why are we doing that, exactly?”
I applied for the military college program on the advise of my high school career counselor, who was the last person I should have taken advise from, career or otherwise. A kind woman, just not the person to tell me what I should dedicate my life to. Anyway, the military invited me in for testing and an interview, offered me a position at the Royal Military College, and I thought, “Why not?”
My plans following graduation were vague, at best. When I graduate high school I am considering a Fine Arts degree or a Business Admin degree, I’d been accepted for the BA at the school I applied to so I guess that was the existing plan. Clearly my goals were not well defined. I figured a stint taking Engineering at military college was as good as anything I had come up with, so I signed on the line.
I was not a good soldier. One of the first things I learned was how to march in a formation but I am often out of step. Most of the time I spend in the military would come to feel like that. I was trying to go one way, and it never seemed to be where everyone else was headed. I really should have known it was not for me when I shot that guy in the chest and they made such a big deal about it.
To get into military college I must pass a six week training program. Basically, I play army for the summer, and I am judged on how well I do. The failure rate is fifty percent, and I ride the edge of that knife the whole time.
My platoon of 36 teenagers is immersed in a make believe military scenario, which acts as the background for all of our activities. There are “enemy forces” in the area, we go on “recon” missions and gather intelligence, we have restrictions on the use of lights, a command structure is in place, and we carry rifles at all times. We are totally committed to playing soldier, and I’m not the only one who doesn’t take the game that seriously. We are high school students who want to become university students. There are a few kids with genuine zeal for becoming finely tuned military machines, but they are the exceptions. Most of us are here for a good, cheap education, and all we are trying to do is get through the next six weeks.
The field portion of the program is the army version of a camping trip. I hike a lot, sleep little, endure mosquitoes, and crap in the woods, but it’s not all bad, I like the outdoors. We get a tube of camouflage paint and are taught how to become invisible in the forest. We learn how to navigate through the wilderness with a map and compass, build rope bridges over fast moving water, and repel down 200 ft cliffs. It was cooler than anything my friends did that summer.
Our instructors teach us to set up a base camp for our field exercises. Sentries surround the camp twenty four hours a day, and we all take a turn. My first shift is in the middle of the night on the outskirts of our small encampment.
Our instructors are rumored to perform mock attacks, so I find a dry spot behind some bushes and settle in to a vigilant watch of the shadows. It is a creepy, being alone, at night, in the middle of a groaning rain forest. Moonlight poking through the heavy canopy casts mottled shadows on the undulating brush, a misty rain is dripping intermittently all around me, drumming strange sounds on puddles and logs, and a light breeze rustles the giant trees. Evil minions are gathering. As I fight sleep I feel them moving out there in the darkness, and I can see them creeping at the edges of my vision. With each passing minute I become more certain that they are sneaking up on us.
“Stand To! Stand To!” I yell to wake the sleeping platoon. “Stand To! Stand To!”
I am on my feet, staring out into the dark, ready to… well, I’m not sure. The platoon is rousing themselves, confused faces stare out at me from the flaps of tents and ask what is happening. My movement and the cool night air has shaken the cobwebs out of my head, I am alert now.
Shadow Ninja Soldiers
The only thing to be seen in the forest are the trees, and I am forced to give the only report I can, “Right there, I saw… Well, I thought… the instructors, they were… It might be nothing… Never mind. Go back to sleep.” Sleepy children retreat back into their tents muttering, “Fucking Britton.”
It makes no sense for middle aged career soldiers to sneak through the dense underbrush, at 3:30 a.m., so they could get the drop on a bunch of doe eyed teenagers. That’s easy to say now, but when a cadre of shadow ninja soldiers are coming at you in the dark, it’s hard to think straight, and in my defense, I am always exhausted in the military. I am delirious, and sorely in need of a nap.
My next guard duty is also in the middle of the night, but I have learned my lesson, so I curl up against a tree and immediately fall into a pleasant and dreamless sleep. I figure I will deal with the consequences of that decision after a good night’s rest. Turns out, nothing comes of it. I think perhaps I have found my stride in the army.
Eventually, I get to guard in the day time. I must challenge anyone entering the camp. That’s it. An easy job in the sunshine, until an instructor decides to get creative.
As the Sergeant approaches camp, I recite my line, “Stop! Who goes there?” and lean back on my heals, confident in a job well done. Except, he doesn’t stop, which he feels inclined to emphasize by saying, “I’m not stopping.”
Did we get a new script? Because that’s not what mine says. You are supposed to stop and state your name, and then I permit you to enter. I hate to be a stickler for the rules, but you’re the one that demonstrated this dance.
“I’m not stopping. What are you going to do about it?”
I’ll admit, this never occurred to me. What am I going to do? I’m supposed to pretend I’m guarding the camp from “the enemy”. My options seem limited. He stands four inches taller, and has at least 50 pounds on me, not to mention that he’s my Dad’s age, so a flying tackle is ridiculous. I could let him walk in and pretend I wasn’t talking to him, but I don’t think I can sell that. My answer is to swing my rifle in his direction, aiming from the hip, I pull the trigger, and with a disappointing little, “pop”, shoot him in the chest. Then I shrug my shoulders, silently asking, “Was that the right answer?”
I didn’t really shoot him in the chest, of course, our rifles have blank rounds in them, but I still got myself into a heap of trouble. Blank rounds contain an explosive, but no bullet, nothing to shoot out the barrel. But, if something is stuck in there, like a pebble or a bit of dirt, it can become a projectile. The remedy is a yellow contraption which plugs the end of the barrel, but this creates another problem. If it comes loose, a blank round will propel it forward, just like a bullet. The plug attaches with a janky clip that can come undone, so we back that up by wiring it shut. The likelihood this would fail is extremely small, but it’s clearly not a thing you want to test by shooting at someone five feet from you.
The instructors quickly form an impromptu huddle to discuss the situation, with the pissed off Sergeant leading the charge. He points out the potentially deadly consequences of my actions, berates me for my recklessness and casual disregard for safety, notifies me I will likely be tossed out, and asks me if I have anything to say for myself.
‘You gave a 17 year old a gun, a simulated battle scenario, and some vague instructions. Then you gave a pop quiz that apparently had no right answer. What the fuck did you think would happen?’
I am, of course, paraphrasing, but whatever I say, works. They let me stay. My subsequent fuck-ups do not have the same inherent fireworks. I manage to stay under the radar long enough to pass the course, barely, I made it into military college. I figure the hard part is over.
Attending the Royal Military College (RMC) is like going to Mars. The college has been producing military officers, crazy traditions, and rights of passage for 125 years. It’s still the most interesting place I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been to Burning Man1 three times.
We arrive after midnight in a convoy of school buses. Dumped onto the parade square2 at the center of campus, we form into neat military ranks and wait in the silent darkness. The Imperial March, Darth Vader’s theme music, begins to thunder from the sprawling four story stone building we face. A light grows that leaks out through the chinks in the front doors. They open, and the silhouetted shape of a man walks out onto the palatial balcony. He introduces himself as the Cadet Wing Commander. He tells us we are only Recruits, and we have to get past him before we can call ourselves Cadets at his college.
That performance is the beginning of Recruit Term, a five week hazing of the first year Cadets. Cheezy, sure, but it gives you an idea of the scale of the effort. The guy we just met is at the head of a military hierarchy of dozens of fourth year university students. Their chief purpose for the next five weeks is to make our lives miserable. It’s Recruit Term, a physically and mentally grueling indoctrination, a test of fire.
A typical day starts when the audio system, that has been rented for this specific purpose, clicks on and our “wake up song” is played. It’s not the song that wakes me, it’s the hum of the amplifier clicking on, just before it slips its chain.
“GET THE FUNK UP! GET THE FUNK UP!” explodes from the three foot tall speaker outside my door. I never learn what the song is, but it’s the same every morning, and it starts with, “GET THE FUNK UP! GET THE FUNK UP!”
The three Section Commanders in charge of my squadron are pacing the hallway yelling, “Move it Recruits!”, which barely registers over the thundering music. By the end of the song we need to be shaved, dressed, have our clothes, bunks, brass, lockers, rifles, uniform, and closet, ready for inspection, and be standing outside our room. This is the first three minutes of the day.
The point is to make it as tough as possible, and that means punishment, so standards are set to produce failures, and everything is a test; decorum, rules, bilingualism, college history, dress, military drill, and customs. A loose thread on a shirt, dirt on the sole of a shoe, wrinkled sheets, or a drawer with a missing pair of socks, all punishable offenses.
We do “Panic Drills” for hours, to another unidentified punk melody, our “Panic Song”, that boomed from the sound system. A minute and a half to change into dress uniform and be ready for inspection. Remake a torn apart bed in 60 seconds, and the top sheet had better be folded over eleven inches. With eighteen Recruits, it is easy to find fault, and if one of us fails, we all fail.
When we do fail we received a punishment. Sometimes it is a stereotypical military thing, like push-ups, but often it is more inventive. For instance, we stand out in the hallway and slide our backs down the wall until our knees are at ninety degrees, that is called “The Chair”. Sometimes we also hold our rifles straight armed out in front of us. Combined with “The Chair”, this becomes “Playing the Piano”. Sometimes this goes on for hours. When we can no longer lift the 9.5 pound (4.3 kg) rifle, our instructors have us wear our combat boots on our hands and hold those out in front of us.
On one particularly grueling day the affable French cadet across the hall runs into my room in the middle of a Panic Drill with a huge smile on his face. He tells me, “Hold your hands like this in your boots! It helps.” He turns his hands palm up, every finger curled into a fist, except the middle ones. Two minutes later our Section Commander yells ferociously at us that we have earned an extra 30 seconds of “Playing the Piano” for the smirks on our faces. My shoulders are burning, but he’s right, it does help.
We are in a group 24 hours a day, being whipped into some high energy, high stess activity, and we run on the edge of exhaustion. In the middle of the night, my calf muscles seize into a ball, bolting me upright, clawing at my leg and holding back a scream. The only time I stop moving is when I am sleeping, and there never seems to be enough of that. I’ve never been so tired.
Another common punishment is Circles. You can earn Circles for any number of offenses. Frequently throughout the day I hear, “THAT’S TWO CIRCLES BRITTON.” A Circle is one lap around a 400m (1/4 mile) track. If you have earned any Circles you meet at the track first thing in the morning to run up to 8 laps. If you have more than 8 they carried over to the following day.
My Section Commanders give Circles out like they were candy, not in singles, but by the handful, although, I don’t mind the morning run. That does not entirely explain what is to come, but still, definitely contributing factors.
I start to receive a lot of Circles. Soon, in fact, I have enough on the books that I know I will be running those two miles every morning for the foreseeable future. Then I receive a valuable piece of intelligence. A second year student tells me that soon after Recruit Term ends, the punishment is shut down, and any remaining Circles are forgiven. The simple reason for this is that the fourth year students don’t want to get up at the crack of dawn to supervise the run anymore than we want to do it.
That means that there is a magic number of Circles. Once I reach that milestone, which I am fast approaching, Circles become meaningless, I’d never have to run them anyway. I would simply run my two miles every morning until the punishment was cancelled at the the end of Recruit Term. The punishment was de-fanged.
We are trained to act as a group, not as individuals. If one of us fails, we all fail. It is hammered into us that we should help one another out to ensure the success of our Squadron, not just ourselves. Over and over this is reinforced. We do everything as a group; eat, sleep, wake, run, shower, and train. We celebrate our meager successes as a group and suffer our penance together, except for Circles, they are the only individual punishment.
After I reach my magic number, not only do I see no incentive in caring about earning more, but I use my new power for the good of my Squadron. If there is an opportunity to “take the heat” for someone, I do. I earn Circles in dizzying numbers.
Entering the mess hall, there is a downstairs landing to store hats and gear before heading to our table. This is a strict “No Talking” area for first years. In the midst of Recruit Term one of the two girls in our Squadron is visibly shaken, a common side effect of the constant pressure. Deanne is a sweet girl, she seems even more out of place in this madness than I do, so I go out of my way to give her a quick pat on the back and a word of encouragement.
“No talking! That’s four circles Britton.”
Deanne bursts into tears. At the first opportunity I tell her that there is no need to be upset on my behalf. I explain my insight, “I will never run the stupid Circles I just received anyway.” She looks at me doubtfully. She’s not buying my theory. Genius is rarely appreciated in its time.
Recruit Term eventually comes to an end. We are officially welcomed into the college and our lives become a little easier. Now all we have to worry about is a full time Engineering class schedule and the consuming duties of a military college.
Like any big organization, in the military, supervisors conduct performance reviews of their underlings. My first one as a member of the Royal Military College is just before Christmas break. My Section Commander tells me that I have set a record. There is certainly no trophy in the case for such an accomplishment, but I set a record at a college with 125 years of history. I have received more Circles than any other Recruit, ever. You can be assured that I am the only one that is impressed by that.
Herein lies the heart of my difficulty in the military, the reason I am at odds with everything. I feel proud of my record. They were whipping me with a wet noodle and expecting me to cower. I had taken everything they had, used my head, made a decision, and demonstrated a commitment to purpose no one had ever before mustered. I had exploited a glaring flaw in the system, which in my mind, reflected poorly of the system, not me. I had thrown myself on a grenade for my comrades, metaphorically. I feel triumphant, and that is not the appropriate reaction to being ranked eighteenth out of the eighteen Cadets in my performance review.
I am at the bottom of my Squadron and I am fairing no better academically. I am failing all five of my classes, well, except English. I have a 52% in that. No self respecting Engineering school will fail anyone taking the English course requirement, all you need is a heartbeat. I leave for home at Christmas barely passing the one course no one fails, I am in the French class for the mentally challenged, and I have earned an infamous place in the history of RMC.
You become accustomed to a pervasive odor, but after a single breath of crisp air, the returning stench hits you in full force. You wonder that you ever lived with it. In a personal relationship this is the time you suggest that perhaps you should see other people.
I returned from Christmas break resolved to pull up my socks. I was determined not to be defeated. That lasted about two weeks, and then I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I was trying to force my way through the military, and I was a poor fit. I think it was all of that friction that I smelled. What was I doing here?
I’m glad I went to RMC. Every afternoon the sounds of the drummers and bag pipes echoed off the ancient ivy covered buildings. I was in an honor guard for foreign dignitaries. I rode on a naval destroyer, and in a sub hunting airplane. I learned to iron a perfect dress shirt in under a minute. I watched a twenty thousand dollar missile blow up into a fire ball. I streaked the parade square drunk. I was on a precision military acrobatic display team. I saw the RMC hockey team beat West Point. I made it into a place a few thousand people have ever seen the inside of. I looked fine in my scarlet dress uniform. And I set a record that may still stand. I’m glad I went to RMC, but it was the right decision to leave.
RMC was one of the first major failures of my life, but it didn’t feel that way. You can’t try new things without experiencing the occasional disastrous defeat. It’s like Thomas Edison said, “Results! Why, man, I have gotten a lot of results. I know several thousand things that won’t work.” And so, after I left the military I feel I had succeeded admirably in finding something I was most definitely not meant to do.
I’d like to dedicate this story to my friend Rob. I go on a camping trip with two buddies from college every year (except for last year because of all the IVF craziness). We spend a lot of time drinking and telling stories. I told of waking my platoon to save them from the ninja soldiers and he thought that was the funniest thing. He even yells, “Stand to!” at me from time to time. He told the story at my wedding which reminded me to write it down.
7 votes Loading ...The Project ended this week. Like many things, it did not go as I planned. I thought I would spend some enjoyable time discovering what I wanted to do for a living, identify a few companies to speak to about my plans, secure an exciting high paying job in a non-traditional manner, save the world a little while I was at it, and write about my progress, which would be fun for me, and inspiring for you. I was willing to be flexible on saving the world and inspiring you. Plans don’t get any easier.
In my defense, all my previous experience in securing employment lead me to believe this was entirely reasonable. I created a schedule of articles detailing the process, all based on the idea that I knew where things would end up. I could plow through them, but that would be boring to write, and to read. When the plan comes unraveled, it’s time for a new one, so I am going to bring you up to speed right now.
Parachute Diagram
I enlisted a dozen people to do the exercises in What Color Is Your Parachute. I wanted to gauge the value of self-help activities in general, and job seeking processes in particular. I learned something, but it is not what I expected.
Navel gazing is hard work, and few people find the time or the energy to do it. Of my 12 volunteers, only a few finished the book. Each one began with enthusiasm, or obligation, in the case of my sisters, but that rarely brought anyone through the whole process. I am not judging the participants of my experiment. If I was not unemployed, I may not have tackled it with much relish either.
Resume
It indicates something interesting though. Few people ever try guided self-improvement. I cannot speak for anyone else, but I think that is unfortunate, because I found the experience worthwhile. The book directed me to create a diagram identifying work I want, and will do well. I used the information to create a different sort of resume. I am extremely pleased with it.
It is tempting to ignore the idea that you can make major improvements in your life just by being introspective. A routine of commitments and obligations can propel you across decades if you don’t look around occasionally. You can accomplish a surprising amount by sitting down at your kitchen table with a pen and paper, and asking yourself, “What do I want?”
Dream jobs are not advertised in the paper, so I phone target companies and contacts. Setting up meetings with people who do not know your name is not easy, but I meet with decent success. The meetings are varied, and produce a few interesting discussions, but nothing else, yet. I continue to pursue this method because I feel it holds the most promise.
Submitting resumes to HR departments in response to job postings is a crapshoot at the best of times, and these are not the best of times. Then again, you never know, so I have sent a few out, and will continue to do so.
The Project did not wrap up into a nice neat package like I had envisioned, and the completion date has past without a major success, but I continue to work on it. I am writing copy for a website, developing on-line training and a software idea, looking for a way into residential or environmental construction, seeking work in various industries, and writing. The pursuit of enjoyable work does not have a definitive end date. As it turns out, my dream job is an evolving project.
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Every person I have spoken with who is positive about their job likes those they work with. Who you work with defines job satisfaction more clearly than any other factor. Finding a job you like, therefore, is partially a search for people you like.
I did an exercise from What Color Is My Parachute and question five from this quiz. By combining the two results I came up with a list of qualities I admire and enjoy in others. I like people who are kind, fun, friendly, smart, capable, helpful, positive, enthusiastic, imaginative, creative, problem solvers, persuasive, practical, determined, confident, and adventurous.
The list is more about me than I expected. The things you admire in others are the qualities you hope to possess. Writing about other people, strangely, is one of the most revealing things I have done for The Project.
The resulting list of traits cannot be used as a check list to assess prospective employers, but it does help you assess a workplace. Atmosphere, HR policies, supervision methods, hierarchy structures, social events, and training philosophies are some of the many things that attract people of a certain ilk.
This is part of an ongoing series of articles about the search for my dream job. You can read related articles here.
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I wrote a list of people and what I admired about them. I did not intend to pick my family when I began, but the people that came to mind were not world leaders, sport stars, or historical figures. They were my family and friends. Everything I admire I can find in the people I know. I find that very reassuring.
I turned the notebook page I wrote the list on into a card using the image in this article, and gave it out to a few hundred people. I know my wispy scribbles are illegible, but I thought the page looked interesting. Some people, my wife included, find the fact that words are recognizable, but barely legible, to be very troubling, so for all of their sanity, the translation of the page is found below.
(more…)
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My sister made an offer on a house. My advise to her is to determine the maximum price she is willing to pay before negotiations begin. It is too easy to talk yourself into making concessions if you have not drawn a line in the sand.
Know the most and the least you are willing to pay for anything and you are far more likely to be happy with the final price. Understand your boundaries and you will recognize them as they approach. Stressful situations become easier because it is a decision you have made well in advance, and all that remains is for you to communicate it with an empowering word too seldom used. You will say, “No”.
A friend of mine recently quit her job. She was at odds with the management, and when they reached a line she was unwilling to cross, she did the only thing she could, she quit. Personal and working relationships need boundaries too, and just like negotiating a price, its important to know where yours are, or you risk losing site of them altogether.
Quitting your job is never an easy decision, particularly so in these times, so I congratulated my friend on being self aware enough to know her limits, and courageous enough to make sacrifices to keep them. You sell your knowledge, skill, and effort to your employer, do not to throw your character in to the bargain, because you will find that your salary will not compensate you for the loss.
This is part of an ongoing series of articles about the search for my dream job. You can read related articles here.
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People are asking me how The Project is going. They correctly guess that I am further along in the process than I have written about. The result will no doubt dictate how I want to portray the experience, so the lead-time is a necessity, but I can relate a few things.
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I did not enjoy The Power Of Now. The central idea of the book is solid, but its presentation is awful. My criticisms are numerous, but first I want to be positive. A number of people recommended this book to me, it is widely popular, and has received excellent reviews. There are good reasons why this is so.
I agree with the main themes in the book and, like any material, you incorporate some into your worldview, and discard the rest. Hearing about other ideas and belief systems is a good thing. If you are inclined towards reading it, I am sure you will benefit from the experience.
There are two primary themes found interwoven throughout the book. The main theme, indicated aptly by the title, is that now is all you have. Building on this is the second concept that you create your own reality.
You cannot change the past, and planning to be happy in the future doesn’t work. By letting go of past experiences you cannot change, and not worrying about future events you cannot control, you eliminate most of the complexities of life. Appreciate the beauty in the moment and be happy with what you have in the present. The ability to do this, and live life in the present moment, is what the author calls The Power of Now.1
The secondary theme builds on your ability to focus on the present moment. Once you purge concern of past and future events from your thoughts you can begin to create your own reality. How you feel and react in the present moment becomes a choice. Accept the external things you cannot control and direct your internal perspective over which you have complete control. The result is peace and happiness.
I agree whole-heartedly with both of these philosophies.
Good ideas are best presented simply and honestly. The Power Of Now is neither, which tarnishes worthwhile philosophies, and makes it a chore to read. It may seem like I am being particular, but I am not alone in my thinking. I want to assure fellow analytical thinkers that enjoying new age spiritual books is not a prerequisite to self-examination or a search for fulfilling work.
My main complaints are:
You can’t properly present an argument peppered with I think, I believe, and In my opinion. It’s weak and tedious to read, however, if you are presenting the idea that you have discovered the very answers to life then, I think, at least one phrase indicating a lack of complete certainty should be forthcoming.
The author presents some lofty ideals with a level of arrogance I found intolerable. When speaking of the very nature of reality, humanity, and the purpose of life, begin with some humility. Hang question marks on your statements and recognize that your audience has opinions of their own.
He states plainly that following his teachings is the only way to “enlightenment”.
The fact is that no one has ever become enlightened through denying or fighting the body or through and out-of-body experience.2
Anyone that states they have found the one and only true answer to life is far too full of himself. There are countless doctrines and ideologies that make the same claim. It is possible that one individual amongst the sea of humanity has come up with the answer to life, but it is reasonable to approach this idea with a critical eye.
Quoting single lines from other religious text and interpreting the meaning to suite you own point of view is such a cliched technique that it is annoying every time I see it done. Not to mention the immense ego required to state that you alone have understood a piece of text centuries old.
(On bible passages) Even the men who wrote the Gospels did not understand the meaning of these parables, so the first misinterpretations and distortions crept in as they were written down. (he then goes on to say what they really mean)3
Hence the statement in the Bible that in the coming age “The lion shall lie down with the lamb.” This points to the possibility of a completely different order of reality.4
A long time after their fall from a state of grace and oneness into illusion, humans suddenly woke up in what seemed to be an animal body – and they found this very disturbing.5
This book is painful to read. Do not take my word for it, lets look at some passages from the book.
When you become conscious of Being, what is really happening is that Being becomes conscious of itself. When Being becomes conscious of itself – that’s presence. Since Being, consciousness, and life are synonymous, we could say that presence means consciousness becoming conscious of itself, or life attaining self-consciousness.
There is an unfortunate tendency for people to make assumptions about things they do not understand. They leap to the conclusion that these are concepts that are beyond their understanding, or that they are reading something very deep and profound. The truth is that often the subject is beyond understanding because it is poorly written, or in this case, complete gibberish.
Read the above quote from the book as many times as you wish. I propose that you can make no sense out of it for a very good reason; it’s total nonsense written in lofty sounding English. A point the author concedes with the statement that immediately follows the above quote.
But don’t get attached to the words, and don’t make an effort to understand this. There is nothing that you need to understand before you can become present.6
I read that page a dozen times and nearly threw the book out the window after each. Did he just make me read a nonsensical paragraph and then tell me not to worry about what it means? What an asshole.
The book is full of examples of this but here is another of my favorites.
The word Unmanifested attempts, by way of negation, to express that which cannot be spoken, thought, or imagined. It points to what it is by saying what it is not. Being, on the other hand, is a positive term. Please don’t get attached to either of these words or start believing in them.7
The author justifies his inability to clearly communicate ideas by saying they are beyond understanding.
Please stop trying to understand Being. You have already had significant glimpses of Being, but the mind will always try to squeeze it into a little box and then put a label on it. It cannot be done. It cannot become an object of knowledge. In Being, subject and object merge into one.8
To further confuse the issue the author chooses to invent new terms and redefine existing ones, but in a non-specific way, so you are always trying to understand what he is saying. He invents the pain-body, and Unmanifested. He redefines, Being, Consciousness, and Presence, and often uses them interchangeably. This is confusing not deep and profound.
A smaller point, but one I find annoying, is the constant use of language that splits the human being into separate independently operating pieces. The author talks of the ego, the mind, and pain-body as separate entities with its own thoughts, feelings, and desires. This makes as much sense as saying, “My left arm is afraid of my right arm.”
The ego believes that through negativity it can manipulate reality and get what it wants.9
“That’s dangerous,” says the ego. “You’ll get hurt. You’ll become vulnerable.”10
The pain-body, which is the dark shadow cast by the ego is actually afraid of the light of your consciousness.11
Eckhart Tolle makes statements that are false, misleading, unsupported, and ridiculous. The book is full of claims that his book contains the secrets to end war, aging, disease, and violence. The claims look like this:
As there is more consciousness in the body, its molecular structure actually becomes less dense… When you become identified more with the timeless inner body than with the outer body, when presence becomes your normal mode of consciousness and past and future no longer dominate your attention, you do not accumulate time anymore in your psyche and in the cells of the body. The accumulations of time as the psychological burden of past and future greatly impairs the cells’ capacity for self-renewal. So if you inhabit the inner body, the outer body will grow old at a much slower rate, and even when it does, your timeless essence will shine through the outer form, and you will not give the appearance of an old person.
Of course, the book contains nothing to support his claims in any way. A point made clear by the statement immediately following the above quote.
Is there any scientific evidence for this? Try it and you will be the evidence.12
Here are some more examples of his claims.
The more consciousness you bring into the body, the stronger the immune system.12
This includes collective evils such as war, genocide, and exploitation – all due to massed unconsciousness. Furthermore, many types of illness are caused by the ego’s continuous resistance, which creates restrictions and blockages in the flow of energy through the body.13
It is not only your physical immune system that becomes strengthened; your psychic immune system is greatly enhanced as well.14
(On focusing on the past) Then you are not only reinforcing a false sense of self but also helping to accelerate your body’s aging process by creating an accumulation of past in your psyche.15
The author furthers his claims by purporting to know what happens to you when you die.
Even if you have missed all the other opportunities for spiritual realization during your lifetime, one last portal will open up for you immediately after the body has died.16
This one is plainly offensive. It turns out if you are murdered, robbed, or raped, it may be because you don’t have enough consciousness.
Anyone with a strong pain-body and not enough consciousness to disidentify from it… may also easily become either the perpetrator of the victim of violence.17
Stating the earth is flat does not make it so. The author has written a book filled with outlandish statements that are entirely unsupported. It is, quite simply, peppered with bullshit.
Pseudo Science arises out of the desire to use the intellectual cache of science without the restrictive nuisance of scientific boundaries like facts, provable arguments, or working examples. Words you would expect to hear in a laboratory, but which are entirely out of context. Marketers use it extensively to sell ideas and products by conveying a feeling of scientific merit where there is none.
The cosmetics industry is full of examples, like this one about a face cream.
Soft and creamy texture provided by elastomer and emollient esters.
The author uses technical terms wherever possible. He writes energy field, vibrational frequency, force field, and energy polarity, where he could have used aura, feeling, and opposition. The reason is not difficult to understand. Replace his various “energy” terms with the word aura in the following quotes. The meaning remains constant but without the jargon they sound like flaky unsupported statements, which is closer to the truth.
The pain-body consists of trapped life-energy that has split off from your total energy field and has temporarily become autonomous through the unnatural process of mind identification.18
Physical violence would be impossible without deep unconsciousness. It can also occur easily whenever and wherever a crowd of people or even an entire nation generates a negative collective energy field.19
It (consciousness) generates an energy field in you and around you of a high vibrational frequency.20
The latter protects you from the negative mental-emotional force fields of others, which are highly contagious.14
Apparently, gays need not apply to The Power Of Now.
You are either a man or a woman, which is to say, one-half of the whole… the longing for wholeness…manifests as male-female attraction… It is an almost irresistible urge for union with the opposite energy polarity.21
The soul is a timeless concept. It comes by different names, but whatever label you put to it, it is a notion every adult has already accepted or rejected. If, like me, you do not believe, then there is no reason to adopt the idea because Eckhart Tolle says so.
With this radiant peace comes the realization – not on the level of mind but within the depth of your Being – that you are indestructible, immortal. This is not a belief. It is an absolute certainty that needs no external evidence or proof from some secondary source.22
There are no question marks in the book. It states the answers to life and offers nothing to support its claims. This puts it on the same footing as every other religious text.
The author presents a set of ideas as singularly created by the him. A passing acknowledgement that the ideas presented in the book are built on many philosophies from various cultures would have been placated me. If this was the only issue it could be excused, but as it is, it added to the bitter taste all of my other complaints had developed.
So many people love this book, I apologize to anyone I offended. It is not my intent to throw stones just for the sake of doing so. I think a critical look at ideas that tell you how to live is important.
If you were to cut out the bullshit, and give the material to a less arrogant author, you would end up with 40 pages I thoroughly enjoyed, instead of 230 pages that had me gritting my teeth and cursing. It felt like buying a good car from a slimy salesman. I ended up with something I can use, but the process was distasteful.
All of the quotes I have obtained from the first paperback edition. For brevity I have used ellipses (…) to replace material in some of the quotes. None of the meanings have been altered by the subtraction of this material.
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What are your skills and which do you most enjoy using? Identifying your skills helps you in two ways. First, the talents you posses and enjoy are a crucial part of defining your ideal job. Secondly, securing a good job involves more than defining what you want. Your skills make you valuable, and once you find the job you want, they will help you secure it.
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What you know determines what work you are qualified to do. Your spheres of knowledge provide avenues for you to apply your talents and skills. However, you must consider your passions as well as what you know. Ideally, these two things will overlap, but enthusiasm trumps knowledge, because you can acquire the later with the former.
1 votes Loading ...What is most important to you? What ideals do you embody? These governing philosophies provide the framework of your life.
Defining your values helps you understand what it is you want to accomplish. Your goals and methods of achieving them need to be in line with your underlying values. Writing them down is the first step in defining the job you want.
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