Do you know Heaven? Have you had the blessed opportunity during your days on this planet to find that thing, that person, that activity or event or song or painting, that transformed this clump of mud into clouds and sky? Have you found your Heaven? Have you found your bliss, your rapture, your radiant awesomeness?

Have you found that which makes you cry? That which makes you soar? That which is not open to laughter or jokes, but is held as the sacred, the not-to-be-touched, the private and personal? Have you seen the world from the perspective of an angel, your heart overflowing with love and joy? Have you found your secret, and stowed it away in an airtight box? Protected it from daylight and the grubby fingers of those around you who would smudge it up and tear it down if given the chance?
Have you felt ecstasy? Passion? Pride? Have you found that which forces trumpets to blare?

“My love for the game I don’t think can be measured man… I think if they took my heart out it would be a basketball… When I’m in between those line… I feel at peace… I feel free… I’m in paradise… I feel like I’m in my sanctuary… That ball, and that basket, it just makes me complete… Being in the zone… it’s an out-of-body experience… it supersedes the physical because… the world kinda’ goes away… and I’m just flying. I can’t hear anything out there on the floor. I can’t hear the crowd… you don’t see a hand in your face…. You know, it kind of feels surreal to me… like a superhero inside”.

“When I’m between those lines… I feel at peace… I feel free… I’m in paradise… I feel like I’m in my sanctuary”. For these men, it is basketball. For me, it was music– then philosophy– then bodybuilding.

People ask if I win money at the shows I compete in. No, I actually pay money to participate. Why? Because it is my Heaven. It is my sanctuary. And when I’m the gym, I feel at peace; I feel free. It’s the only time I turn my phone off– turn my brain off– don’t worry about schedules, agendas, or anybody else’s problems. It is my meditation. It is my private realm. It is that time when I am allowed to bear my soul, my true essence, to the world, without fear of repercussions or judgment or injury. It is just me, and a bar, and my ability to move it or not. It is when my eyes look inwards, and not outwards; it is when I hold my breath and stop talking. It is when all that matters is the next 60 minutes. It is my Heaven.

Have you found the pure, the white, the sparkly and bright? Have you found that which you would gladly give anything and everything to do, just one more time, if you only had one more moment to live? Have you found that which defines you, a title– “painter”, “sculptor”, “mother”? Have you found your salvation?

Do you know Heaven? These men do. These men are athletes– they are warriors– but not here, and not now. Here, they are simply souls gliding across wooden boards. They are grateful, at peace and free. There are no problems, no worries. There is simply bliss. There is simply a reason to awaken each day with a light step. There is simply a blazing fire that licks at the inner lining of each player, and forces his feet faster down the lane.

Have you found your Heaven, your patron saint for being? Is it the beaming smile of your child? The unguarded laughter of your wife or husband? Smashing a volleyball across the floor? Being placed in the middle of the lineup because, you know deep down, you’re in first place? Inventing a new recipe that makes mouths drool? Sticking a landing that seemed to defy physics, or inventing a new skill not yet named? Singing until your throat hurts? Pulling a heavy barbell off the floor? Holding a yoga pose in silence? Seeing your team take first? Is it the warm spring breeze blowing through the blinds on a sunny day? Or the rain falling to the ground, grouping in puddles to splash through like a little kid?

Do you know Heaven? Have you found that which cleanses, purifies, and leaves you new, unstained, unhurt, unblemished? That activity that stands as your symbol on your internal coat of arms? That which only your truest friends and loved ones can even begin to understand? And maybe even they don’t– maybe it’s just you, maybe it’s a feeling you can’t trust to share with the world. Maybe it’s your way of plugging your spirit directly into the fabric and lining of the universe, of becoming one with the world. Maybe it’s the only thing that can return an atomized existence, split and rendered into untold quantities of separated entities, into a singular plurality. Maybe it is your glue, your substrate, the aether of your universe, the pure fresh air and clear sky breathed by gods, unchangeable, permanent, forever.

Do you know Heaven? And will you fight for it, now and forever? Will you never let it go?

-David A. Johnston

You grab the edge of the Band-Aide, peeling up the very corner, ready to pull back, and you stop– there is a flash of hesitation and fear– you know that it’s going to hurt no matter how you remove it, that you can try to slowly peel it back and hope the pain is reduced, spread out over time and thus dulled; or instead, you can rip it off full-force, no hesitation, with a strong and severe rush of sensation that hits all at once, but fades almost as quickly. What do you do?

You approach the edge of the pool, enjoying your vacation, ready to cool off and relax. You stick the tip of your toe into the cool, clear water, and feel that it is far colder than the surrounding air. You were ready to jump in, until you felt that cold, and then, there was that falter– you know it’s going to be uncomfortable no matter how you get in, that you can slowly submerse your body inch by inch, trying to acclimate to the cold, gritting your teeth, chattering, and shivering; or instead, you can dive in, feel the pin pricks cover your entire body from head to foot, feel the pain of frozen flesh, all hitting at once, but fading almost as quickly. What do you do?

This is the un-fun decision. Life is full of un-fun decisions. Most people try hard to never face them. But they seem to follow us, whether we like it or not.

A change in careers– un-fun decision. The choice to start focusing on your health after decades of neglect– un-fun decision. Pulling up your roots and moving across the country– un-fun decision. Walking away from a family member, a loved one, a friend, because you know you are enabling, you know they are halting forward progression, you know rationally you are a better person than their presence permits– un-fun decision.

The majority of the time, we try to compromise. We say, “Okay, next time… one more time… one more chance… next week… next year… if it happens again….” And we let it continue, and perpetuate, and drag us down. The fear of the momentary sensation, the ripped Band-Aide and cold water pinpricks, stops our limbs from moving in the fashion our rational faculty dictates is proper.

But you can override this, with a strong enough command center. It has to be final, and principled. Approximations and half-ways do not resolve problems. The Band-Aide must be pulled quickly, and diving head-first is always better.

I’m a firm believer in burning bridges and not allowing the capacity to mend, if and when one has gathered sufficient evidence that the other side of the bridge is the right place to be. They say “the grass is always greener”, as if waffling back and forth between two options, like a confused puppy dog torn between wanting “in” and “out”, was any way to go about life. The puppy continues to repeat its cycle of spur-of-the-moment whimsical nowhere-going. Hopefully, the human being does not, and instead learns from his encounters and paths walked.

Like many things clichés, the “grass-is-greener” bromide is based on an illusion or half-truth. The grass is never greener, at least in a patch that has been burnt to a cinder. Then, it’s just blackened ash-earth. If the bridge is burned, one cannot be tempted to cross back over; one is forced not to repeat tracks and trails that have already been pursued and proven useless and impractical. Rather, one must move forward, linear, straight, towards a new region. Let the bridges behind you burn and fall to the ground, in search of truly ever-greener grasses. The trail of smoke and dust will be a reminder of a path chosen, pursued, and committed to. It will not erase all sensation of pain, but it will allow the transition to truly greener, and ever-improving, pastures.

Sometimes, ripping that Band-Aide off can be like walking through hell. In Greek mythology, Orpheus traveled through the underworld to pursue his lost wife, Eurydice. Hades agreed to give Orpheus and Eurydice a second chance, this one time, allowing them both to return to the land of the living on the condition that he lead her out without ever looking back. Orpheus began his journey, literally marching through hell in order to recover the love of his life, in order to reach that truly greener pasture. He could have sprinted; he could have thrown each and every ounce of energy within his person into his march. Instead, he questioned himself– the doubt crept in– and he began to grow afraid. He knew rationally that his only chance at making things work was to not look back and rely on Hades’ word. He knew he had all the evidence he was going to receive. But standing on principle and not looking back was an un-fun decision. It proved too much– he looked back– and saw his wife, Eurydice, standing there for a moment, before being pulled back, eternally, into the underworld. They did not make it to a greener pasture. On his march, Orpheus did not burn the bridge leading back into hell. And as such, his wife returned to the charred and ashen ground of her past– a pasture far less green.

There comes a point where you must commit, you must pull the trigger and decide on a route, a course of action, no matter how painful. The only question is how you will face that pain. Will you let it infuse your soul all at once, hit you like a ton of bricks, wash over your person– and then leave? Or, will you suffer it over, and over, and over, and over again, making the same mistakes, letting fear of the un-fun decision rule your life?

I am striding toward truly greener pastures, and leaving no bridges for a possible return. Let the trail of smoke remind me of where I’ve been.

-David A. Johnston

David Johnston was overweight for most of his life and wanted to make a change for himself and his family. See how he lost over 70 pounds and competed!

Bodybuilding.com is one of, if not the biggest bodybuilding sites on the internet. Each week they feature a Transformation of the Week. This week they have selected David to profile. Read it here…

In the article David talks about what led him to getting involved in bodybuilding and what he did to prepare for the 2010 Maryland competition. Learn the exact carb-cycle diet plan that his coach Dan Kelsey (www.lbs4lbs.com) laid out for him.

David gives some great advice to others who might be looking to make some serious changes in their lives…

My main advice to others is simply to prioritize, be serious about achieving your goals, and don’t hold back. So many people approach life at 50%, and that’s simply not going to get you there. I know, because I was a fat kid my entire life-I never played sports, and was always somewhat embarrassed by my body. I tried to get into fitness a few times during my teens and college years, but again, never went 100% at it.

Read the entire article at http://bodybuilding.com/fun/david-johnston-shed-over-70-lbs-competed-onstage.html

Wolverine, by contrast, does not have a pretty bone in his body. He is gruff, and nasty, and animalistic. He constantly tows the line between being a good guy and a villain. And yet when he took center stage on the big-screen during the X-Men movies over the last several years, audiences loved and admired him.

It isn’t Wolverine’s adamantium skeleton that makes him superbly unique. Rather, it was his ability to heal– to not be hurt– that allowed for the adamantium skeleton in the first place. Let’s back up…

Wolverine was born with a genetic mutation that allows him to heal at an accelerated rate. Almost any wound or disease is corrected for by his body. This allowed Wolverine to survive the military’s experimental process of fusing his skeleton with a near-indestructible metal called “adamantium”, thus making him virtually impervious to harm.

Wolverine’s real power resides not in his claws. It resides in the fact that he cannot be scarred too deeply; it resides in the fact that his wounds are not substantial wounds, not deep, but mere flesh wounds, to be felt and glossed over, felt and forgotten as soon as they are experienced. His wounds do not stop him, and they do not define him. They happen, and they pass.

All my life, I let things affect me too deeply. I placed too much importance and too much weight into little things– all things. I viewed everything as important, as a life-and-death issue.

But as I grew, I wanted to be Wolverine. I wanted to be able to walk away from a battle– from stress, problems, drama– without a scratch. I wanted to be impervious to harm. I watched those around me affected by the trivial, caught up in the mundane, freaking out about little things and missing the bigger picture.

Now a new look in my eyes, my spirits rise,
Forget the past, present tense works and lasts.
New life in place of old life, unscarred by trials.
A new level of confidence and power.
(Pantera, A New Level)

And I learned: yes, Wolverine still feels pain, but it only touches him so deep. It only goes down to a certain level, and then it stops… and sits… and nobody and nothing can force it to hurt more.

So I decided I would be Wolverine, but my own version, without the genetic mutation. I would be impervious to pain, and guilt, and fear. I would make the decision to not let things touch me so deeply. I would learn to let it roll off my back.

“God give me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference. Living one day at a time. Enjoying one moment at a time. Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace.”

I decided to lace my own bones– my own spirit– with adamantium, to make it impervious to the small and trivial blows dealt by life. Certain things matter. Many things matter. And many things don’t. I decided to take the time to sort them out, to tell the difference and rank them.

The decision to be Wolverine, to be indestructible, is not something magically discovered. It is not something one is born with. It is a choice. It is choosing to fully accept and acknowledge the fact that only you are responsible for your own happiness; that the circumstantial and uncontrollable aspects of your life are ultimately irrelevant and contribute in no large part to your current place in life. Lining your soul with an adamantium skeleton and attacking life with adamantium claws is not hard-wired in one’s person. It is not gifted from an external source. It is selected, consciously, as a method and mode of approaching the world.

Whatever my future may hold, I am fully aware that only I can determine my state of happiness and joy.

That state is not something handed to me by others, or something that I will stumble upon while wandering aimlessly through this life. It is, rather, waking up with the choice to be happy, overjoyed, and blissful.

So fly away, Superman, and save the world. Your life is near-perfect, and that’s great– must be nice to be born with alien powers that make you super-human.

The rest of us, by contrast, will be left to undergo our own experiment, to see if we can withstand the transformation from beings of terminable resolve to beings of indestructible spirit.

To see if we can face our trials, and come out unscarred.

To be less than perfect, and still be perfect, just without the fairytale curl atop our brows and flowing cape and tights.

True strength is not an innate trait. It is the ability to make the most of everything around us. It is an orientation towards the world. It is the resolve to keep external factors from affecting us any deeper than we decide is acceptable.

It is a trait we choose, and must continue to choose, each and every day.

-David A. Johnston

Time will not, however, help us out upon request.  “Wait up a second…”– time doesn’t have a second to spare.  “If you could give me just a moment…”– time has no moments to give.  Time just marches on, it just is, and we have to fit into it.  In this sense, time is not a sympathetic friend.

There are no dress rehearsals in this world.  There are no practices.  There are no second chances.  Every time you put that bar on your back, and every step you take, and every word you place on paper, is there forever.  There is no editing that.  There is no reversing that. There is no reversing anything.  In this sense, time can be incredibly harsh and cruel– it is an impartial judge, unwilling to budge in the least.  It does not allow for do-overs.

Look, if you had one shot, one opportunity,
To seize everything you ever wanted, in one moment,
Would you capture it, or just let it slip?…
You better lose yourself in the music, the moment,
You own it, you better never let it go.
You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow,
This opportunity comes once in a lifetime.
(Eminem, “Lose Yourself”)

In the above sense, there are no practice hits; every hit goes down in the books.  There are no mistakes, only failures– failure to do what you said you would do.  Time moves in a singular direction.  And you are the totality of the reps, steps, words and moments that led to this instant.  Each one matters, each one counts.  Every moment of your existence requires some degree of “motivation”, in the sense that you have to find reason, or justification, for putting forth the energy to do something.  The alternative is to do nothing.  “Life is a process of self-generated, self-sustaining action” (Ayn Rand).  And to that end, we find the answer to the question posed by my friend from my column several months back (Determination)– “I totally understand the need/desire to constantly seek the best within yourself, but doesn’t everyone need a break sometime?”  And the answer to that, quite literally, is: sure, when you’re dead– when time has left you in its wake, and continued to move forward without you.

…but…

But what about beginnings?  We all love fresh beginnings.  Everybody loves a good do-over.  And while there are technically no such things as do-overs, in another sense, life is an infinite series of do-overs.  Time is nothing but a sequence of moments repeating ad infinitum, a never-ending reel of opportunities to try your hand again at something, to practice and perfect and get better at and excel at some activity.  Because we have the capacity to carve time into chunks and segments inside our minds, we can view a series of missed opportunities as a singular period, or practice run, necessary in order to finally achieve our goal.

The easiest way to track the story of our lives is by carving it into larger headings, into chapters or epochs.  And each chapter needs a heading, an opening line…

…So we begin our paragraphs, our sentences– our “new periods” of success– with clearly-delineated sentences– –such as, “Today, January 1st, 2011, is the first day of me being successful.  January 1st, 2011, is the first day of the rest of my life. I resolve to finally accomplish my goal”.

A resolution is the grand-daddy of do-overs, the final do-over committing to no more do-overs.  It is commitment to the notion that there are no more dress rehearsals, that every moment matters, and that it’s time to ensure you quit repeating the same mistakes, you quit asking time to wait up, to spare a second, and instead, jump on board the train marching tirelessly towards its destination.

New Year’s Day– and resolutions, in general– are both potentially awesome and frightening.  On the one hand, it’s the biggest “beginning” of the year.  It is the official “Day of the Do-Over”, your public chance to call the last year, or several years, a dress rehearsal, a mere practice prior to this year, this moment in time, when life will truly begin, when you will stop trying to be successful and actually be successful, when you will stop wishing for greatness and actually hold onto greatness.  New Year’s Day gives people that blank page needed, that fresh chapter heading– “And now, we enter this stage”.

But at the same time, it’s just another day, like any other day, filled with moments, like all the other moments of the year.  And each moment and each day is a fresh beginning, a new chapter, a blank page that you have to fill with writing.  Even though we carve it up in our minds for the sake of cognitive clarity, time is not there to be carved or split or manhandled.  It is a juggernaut endlessly striving.  And in this sense, New Year’s Day is just another day; and a resolution is not so simple as declaring, “This is now how it will be”, and watching the events fall into place.  Like taking up a new sport, one cannot “resolve” to be great at it and expect instant success; yet one cannot spend the entire game staring at the playbook.  The timer continues to count down the seconds, and the end of the game is right around the corner.  Keep your feet moving, drive towards the goal, and complete that game, that chapter; then look forward to the next game.  Practice, drill, sweat until you have perfected the skill of being skilled per se, of being efficacious, of living within time, rather than watching it from outside, from the sidelines.

Look, if you had one shot, one opportunity,
To seize everything you ever wanted, in one moment,
Would you capture it, or just let it slip?…
You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow,
This opportunity comes once in a lifetime.
(Eminem, “Lose Yourself”)

Every opportunity comes once in a lifetime.  Resolve, this year, to live every moment with that mindset– to live in the moment, rather than outside of it.

Good luck with this newest chapter, “2011”.  May it be the greatest chapter in your story so far.
-David A. Johnston
12-31-10

Think of it like building your ultimate dream house. You would not merely settle for what was “available”. Once you had the property purchased, and the shell or structure of the home placed upon that property, you would then focus on the bigger task at hand– turning that “house” into a “home”. Which would mean what, exactly? It would mean picking your colors and your decorations– your paintings, the music in the background, your lighting. It would mean arranging your furniture in a way that was practical and used the space economically, meeting your needs and hopefully helping you to function at peak efficiency. It would mean replacing the tacky wallpaper with beautiful rich colors, or ripping out the stained carpet in favor of rich hardwood flooring. It would mean making each and every aspect important, and perfect.

I have long been a fan of the stylized movie– Hero, House of Flying Daggers, 300, The Matrix, Sin City. The films show an individual at the helm who leaves nothing to chance. And even if you think these movies are terrible, and thus might not be a fan of the end product, there is no doubting the internal logical consistency of the universe presented by the artist.

But what if we could reverse the process? What if we could take the model of the film, where every aspect is consciously selected, and apply it to our own lives? What if we could make our lives into movies?

I have often said that at the end of the day, I want my life to play like a highlight reel, a series of stories and tales so far-fetched and ridiculous that a stranger, upon hearing them compiled, would refuse to believe they belonged to a single real person. I want to make sure my life is lived not like a naturalistic character study, replete with drawn-out shots focusing on the mundane; but rather, a stylized action movie, with over-the-top romance, melodramatic persona’s, ridiculous series of events that could never happen in the real world…

…the real world… an interesting concept. And by that, of course, we mean “the average world”. We mean the world of not rocking the boat, right?

But what if we took it upon ourselves to rock that boat? To go on strike against that world, and reinvent it? What if we were to treat our lives like a script that had to be narrowed down to 120 pages, and we wanted those 120 pages to have internal consistency, excitement, stories bursting off the page, characters unique and never-before-encountered? What if we had to select the music to go along with particular scenes? What if we had to choose the costumes, and the lighting?

When I sense those moments of importance in my life, I try to step back, to hover above my own body, watch from a third-person perspective, and take it all in, like a scene from a movie. I try to understand the beauty of the situation, even when it’s painful or difficult, and see how it logically flows from the previous scene, and necessitates the next page of the script. I try to take a mental snapshot– not a memory, but an image containing how I feel, what I think, what I heard, what I smelled; I try to hear the music, and the particular phrasing, and how the grammar and word choice rolls off the tongue; I try to make a lighting-fast edit in my head and ask, “Does this make for good copy?; Will this sell tickets to my movie?”

I have to remind myself that I’m the producer, and the star, and the final product is mine to be proud of– or not. I have to remind myself that there is no director of my film besides myself, no one waiting in the wings to yell “Action!” when something needs to get done, and “Cut!” when I get a break. There is no one to coach me on my lines, or my presentation.

There is just me, and my movie– my life. And it can be internally consistent, with a logical beauty and elegance; with hand-selected colors and sounds; with movements echoed by sonic swells; with physical appearances reflecting the internal status of characters. Or it can be a hodge-podge of elements randomly thrown together, with no theme song, no motif, no beginning, middle or end; no moral to be told; no rhyme or reason; a simple product of happenstance, with the protagonist at the end declaring, “How the hell did I get here?”

I vow to make mine the former, with all 120 pages jam-packed with so much ridiculousness that nobody will ever believe it all belonged to one person. Fully stylized, and fully rocking the boat.

-David A. Johnston

“See, I don’t train for reps, I don’t train for time. I train for failure. I like to see my body fail. I like to stay in bed for a whole day because that’s how tired I am from working.” – Ray Lewis – Baltimore Ravens

We have had it hammered into our heads that failure is okay. Over the last decade, the politically-correct thinkers out there, full of nothing but love for their children, have removed “rules” and “points” and “winners” and “losers” and “grades” from sports and schools and just about any activity conceivable, so as to not shatter poor Johnny’s fragile ego.

The first step towards accomplishment is in identifying that success– achieving goals– matters.

And we see now all around us the result of removing said rules, points, winners, losers, grades. We see not one, but generation after generation getting progressively softer, slower, fatter, lazier, whinier, rotting at our cores. We see that the supposed rally to protect self-esteem, by means of removing the necessary cause of self-esteem, has led to a world where there is no concept of “worth”, and no concept of “esteem”. Nothing matters when everything is equal.

The second step towards accomplishment is in identifying that because success matters, failure is not okay. It is to be avoided.

One of my clients this week informed me that her sister, a grade school teacher, now has to allow her students continued chances to re-write their papers for class. If a paper is written and submitted– and is poorly done– the kid can then rewrite it (with the teacher’s comments in mind, of course), and then rewrite it again, and again, and again, until it is perfect. This client of mine joked, “I plan to attend a school board meeting when my daughter begins school, and inform them that my child is not allowed do-overs”. Nothing quite as fantastic as breeding the mentality that you will be allowed an infinite number of chances at mediocrity.

So I began to approach the world with the idea that failure is not okay– that doing “just enough” is not enough. I, too, have approached the high dive. I, too, saw it as a child, and was scared. I, too, was ashamed that I was scared. I was embarrassed. I knew I was weak. So I forced myself to climb it, again and again and again. And belly flop. And it was painful. But being scared and weak was more painful.

The third step towards accomplishment is in identifying that, in order to have continued success, one must have numerous failures first.

There is not a single pro athlete with a perfect record. No basketball player sunk every shot. No running back scored on every down. No bodybuilder took first in every contest. There is no millionaire with a perfect investment record. There is no beautiful overture that was written perfectly the first time.

I trained a client once, a very accomplished 17 year old soccer player, who started crying halfway through a set of dumbbell shoulder presses. I asked her what was wrong. She told me through tears, “I’m used to succeeded at everything, I’m not used to failing at anything, and you make me fail on every set!”

The fourth and final step towards accomplishment is in embracing failure, actually chasing it, reveling in it, on the understanding that it is necessary for success, that it walks with success, that the two are twins holding hands, and meeting with one means you will have to talk to the other.

My soccer player did not understand that failure, in weight training, is success. She had not reached the fourth step.

Ray Lewis mentions training to failure, making his body fail, and loving exhaustion. Some might call this masochism. Others will recognize it merely as the mindset of a champion. Ray Lewis knows that to fail is to succeed, and therefore, he chases that feeling.

To stare failure in the face, to acknowledge fear and own it and walk with it, to embrace pain as a road to pleasure– these are the means to success. Or you can remove the rules, the points, the winners and losers, and see what happens. I, personally, am not optimistic.

When I took my class at the Maryland State two months ago, as overjoyed as I was– as in-love-with-life as I was at that moment– I remember a surreal feeling that I couldn’t then identify or name. It was a feeling of partial emptiness and sadness. It was the feeling that I had won my class, and therefore had “done good enough”. In a way, it was terrible. For the first time, I was told I had gotten there. It felt like I was being given permission to slow down, to not push so hard.

And I thought to myself: how lucky that I did not win the overall, so now I have a reason to continue pushing. How lucky that I was beaten, because now the next two years of my life will be fueled by a demonic fury to be better, to grow stronger, larger, leaner, to propel myself down a path towards continued success. My failure became a step allowing me to ascend to the next level of success.

I will chase failure, and fear, and pain. I will seek out the things that scare me, and stare them down. I will not be satisfied “conquering fears”, but will instead come to love that which scares the hell out of me. And when I encounter the twins of success and failure, I will court them both, equally, as the two halves of life.

-David A. Johnston

Ever make a decision that you knew in advance was going to piss people off? That would enrage everybody? That would be criticized as wrong, or foolish, or impossible?

Did that criticism stop you, or did you move forward? I don’t mean stopping to consider the arguments; after all, I’m a big fan of weighing the facts and coming to as objective a judgment as possible. Rather, I mean having weighed all the facts, considered the alternatives, and still made a decision that will enrage a friend or family member: at that point in time, did you move forward with your judgment, or bend?

I’m not talking about playing the role of underdog. Everybody loves an underdog. A few rare people love a hero. I’m talking about playing the role of the villain– accepting the role of the villain, and not letting it sting.

I kinda’ like being the villain. Provided I think my decision is proper, being the villain is fun. It’s a shame not everybody shares the same vision– the same interpretation of how all the facts will pan out over time– but that’s just life. Some people cannot handle that disagreement. I love it. It makes me happy deep within, when somebody criticizes my decisions or beliefs, to stand there and silently think, “Well, I guess we will see… Give it time…”.

My life has been a long series of putting forth preposterous scenarios, and then making them happen– being told, “You can’t do that!”, and proving the world wrong. It’s not because I derive a great satisfaction from proving everybody wrong (although I would be lying if I said that wasn’t a little fun). Rather, it’s because my vision simply tends to be different. I just do things my own way. Always have, always will. And I’ll never understand that there is an alternative, try as I might. Sacrificing one’s independent judgment is giving away one’s mind and soul, with a pretty little bow on top of the package.

“You once asked me why I think I’m always right. And I realized you’re right. At least I think you’re right. … I don’t really know now, do I?” (Dr. House, House: M.D.)

There is a sappy saying that many parents and grandparents told their children growing up: when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. That is to say, learn to make the best out of the worst situation, don’t always expect life to be automatically perfect and wonderful, continue moving with your best foot forward regardless of circumstances.

I’ve often wondered if I can chance that saying to: When life gives you lemons, turn them into a prime steak with a fine wine; don’t settle for lemonade, it still kinda’ sucks in the big scheme of things.

The alchemist always intrigued me– “Alchemy… is both a philosophy and an ancient practice focused on the attempt to change base metals into gold, investigating the preparation of the ‘elixir of longevity’, and achieving ultimate wisdom, involving the improvement of the alchemist as well as the making of several substances described as possessing unusual properties”. [Wikipedia] Turning a common metal into gold. Creating a formula for immortality. Slightly stronger than turning lemons into lemonade. I’m sure they, too, were criticized and questioned by everybody around them, seen as the villains of their time. And I’m sure it did not stop them.

But some are stopped. Some receive the questions– from friends, family, coworkers, peers– and become paralyzed. The questions kill the movement, destroy the action, and end the decision. In the video above, LeBron James questions this himself– until, at the end, you seem him floating above the rim, continuing his ascent, continuing to move forward, upward, outward, to grow, to roll across the planet like a force, without permission, without consent, without agreement, perhaps without smiles and nods and the praise he was once given. He is willing to be the villain rather than sit still. The video is entitled “Rise”. And he continues to Rise off the screen as the video comes to a close. He refuses paralysis.

“I take risks; sometimes patients die. But not taking risks causes more patients to die, so I guess my biggest problem is I’ve been cursed with the ability to do the math.” (Dr. House, House: M.D.)

The failure to act, in actuality, is the acceptance of death. The only truly wrong decision is no decision, or indecision, take your pick. We can forecast the future to some small degree, but “doing the right thing” is more about making the right decision, in the moment, with whatever you’ve been given– lemonades, lead, or an opportunity to play for a new team. When everything is over, even “legacy” and “reputation” become something of empty concepts, if they are tied to fear, if they stop you from walking a new path…

…if they stop you in your attempt to turn lead into gold, and lemons into wine.

-David A. Johnston

Note: The following is a recent “Emotional Fuel” letter that I sent out to a few clients, friends and associates.

Rarely in my life do other individuals push me to greater heights. For those who know me personally (which should be all of you), you know that I work hard, I play hard, and I try to go 100% on pretty much everything I do.

That changed this past week when one of my personal training clients (who shall remain nameless) started giving me a hard time. “Dave, I expect a weekly motivational email from you. With what I’m paying for personal training, I should be receiving at least one motivational email every week to get me fired up to come in”.

I explained to this individual why it was difficult for me to do this– Lifetime limits our email lists to 10 recipients. “So don’t use Lifetime’s server”, he replied. I told him I would eventually love to have a motivational email in conjunction with my website, and it was something in the works. “Why eventually? Why not now?” he replied.

We went back and forth for the better part of the hour, and every time I stated a reason why it wouldn’t work– an excuse why it wouldn’t work– he countered with a very simple, precise retort that basically boiled down to, “That’s a shame, get it done anyways”.

For probably the first time in my life, I felt how many of you must feel when dealing with me during a training session– “Geez, this guy is relentless! He won’t give me a friggin’ inch!”

And then I realized something: he was absolutely right. I was sounding like many of my own clients, coming up with excuses that could all be easily countered with just a little bit more effort and thinking. That little bit is what separates good from great.

Hence my new weekly email, which I shall call the “Emotional Fuel” mailer. There are many days when I wake up exhausted, uninspired, yet I know, as a bodybuilder, that I have to find that fire, that drive, to go in and absolutely crush the weights. I have to find that same fire and drive when dealing with my clients, when running my business, when raising my daughter and being a good husband. It’s called “will”, and it’s the only thing you truly have control over in this world: how hard are you going to apply your will at any given moment of any given day.

But on those less-than-perfect days, it’s nice to have a little external motivation, a little “emotional fuel”, as I call it. Often times before I head in to train, I will pull up video clips on Youtube of various pro bodybuilders or other athletes, and watch the grueling intensity of their workouts. It makes me want to work harder. It makes me think of them as heroes. It makes me feel like I’m 10 years old again, looking up to people who have accomplished more than me, setting a bar high up for me to aspire to. It makes me put on my hoodie and head out the door, ready to destroy absolutely anything and everything that lies in my path when heading into the weight room.

This is the warrior mentality that guides me day to day. And in working with my personal training clients, I try to cultivate that mentality, to various degrees, in my pupils– that idea of taking 100% ownership of your life and the means to achieving your own goals, and enjoying it all in the process.

I know that in many regards I’m a pretty odd duck, so some of the things I find motivational might be “off the beaten path”. But I’ll do my best to deliver the honest-to-goodness spirit of what drives me further. Hopefully it will help you in your own quest. Needless to say, if you consider this junk mail, please tell me and I will remove your name from the email list.

In starting out, I decided on something nice and simple, uncontroversial, and something that sums up the very spirit of the topic at hand, willing oneself into action, from the ancient Greek tragedian Sophocles: “Heaven never helps the man who will not act”.

As for a little visual motivation, I present for you the Best of Dorian Yates. Of course, I have to start with a bodybuilding clip. Dorian was the top bodybuilder of the ’90s, winning 6 Mr. Olympia titles. He was not known for having the best genetics, but was always considered the hardest worker, as well as the smartest worker, when it came to bodybuilding. Through sheer force of will and application of intelligence, he was able to surpass individuals with far better genetics and become arguably the greatest of all time. To get a sense of his intensity, simply check out the look at the :38 second mark:

Hopefully this will get you all fired up for a week of hard training and clean eating!
-David A. Johnston
4/11/2010

PS… What is it that motivates you? What is it that you do get your ass in gear when you don’t feel like it?
Leave a comment below.

PSS… In the near future the weekly ‘Emotional Fuel’ will only go out to subscribers. Subscribe right now by leaving you name and email in the box to the right.