Were you grateful when you got yourself out of bed this morning? Did you thank the heavens above when you shuffled yourself over to the shower?
My friend Jeff Winicour will tell you, “You should be thankful. You’re lucky.”
Did you deal with some “major tragedy” today at work? Avert a “crisis”? Get caught up in “drama”?
Jeff doubts it. He’ll tell you, whatever your problem is, you should consider yourself lucky to have it.
Jeff knows what he’s talking about. He’s in a wheelchair, has been for about six years, thanks to two consecutive strokes he had, courtesy of AVM. The second stroke nearly killed him.
Jeff probably knows better than you how lucky you are to be alive. Are you taking your life for granted? Not appreciating every breath? Not giving thanks for every single moment of your life? Do you feel entitled to the ability to feel, to see, to speak, to walk… to express yourself outwardly, to joke, to be mobile, to make your own decisions, to eat, to go to the bathroom by yourself, to be understood when you speak, to have the power to overcome your own boredom…? Do you whine about every little thing, as if what someone says about your choice of pants today impacts you even one iota?
If he could, Jeff would knock some sense into you.
But he can’t.
Because he’s not lucky like you. He can’t walk (yet.) He can talk, but some days are better than others, and often he can’t do much more than whisper a few words at a time. He can turn his head, but some days, he gets stuck. Jeff’s lucky to be alive—and he knows it. He’s lucky to have the motor control he has—and he knows it. Jeff’s lucky to be surrounded by friends who love him—and he knows it.
Feel like pitying Jeff because he had a stroke? He’ll be the first to tell you: “Stroke this.” Then he’ll tell you to stop focusing on him and learn to appreciate your own life.
That’s what Jeff’ll tell you.
Now here’s what I’ll tell you:
Jeff has more courage than most of the people I see in business… all combined. For months, Jeff made use of his time in his wheelchair to express himself through poetry: he worked on regaining motor control in one hand and typed out, slowly, a number of poems. That right there is more courage than most people have.
But Jeff wasn’t done. Through a group he spends time with, he found the opportunity to have his poems performed on stage. He handed his work over to an acting troupe, and they developed interpretative acts and readings and they amplified Jeff’s words and delivered them to a packed house.
Personally, I don’t give a hopscotch if you’re a fan of poetry or not; that’s not what this is about. What strikes me is that here is a young man in his 30′s, with a nine-year-old son, who has been confined to a wheelchair for six years, and this guy took his pain, his frustrations, and his triumphs, put them on paper, gave that paper to someone else, and said, “Here, this is a window into my heart. Do you think you can open it and invite a few hundred people to come see what’s inside?”
Would you do that—would you make yourself that vulnerable? Would you carry the idea of authenticity to the point that you’d literally invite hundreds of people to share in your life? Because that’s courage.
Do you have that courage? You think, “Yes?” OK, then, tell me: what have you done with it. You think, “No?” Why the hell not—what’s holding you back?! Jeff’s stuck in a wheelchair. What are you stuck in, a “mental rut?”
Jeff’s not lucky like you. He doesn’t have arms and legs that respond to his every call. His voice doesn’t carry. Imagine what Jeff might do, if he could couple his courage with the gifts you have.
Imagine what you could do.
You don’t owe Jeff any favors, nor do you owe me anything. But I think, and I think Jeff would agree, that you owe yourself one thing: the willingness to live your life.
In my parlance, that means having the courage to risk failing spectacularly. In Jeff’s, that means looking at your biggest problem and saying:
“Stroke this!”
Jeff is now converting his poems into a book. His friends and I are helping him self-publish. If you’re interested in supporting this initiative, click here. (The funding link is not yet active, but should be within a day.)
The video includes my rendition of one of his poems, “Blue is as Blue.”
Jeff, all my love.
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The link is broken – been there with a family member & want to get a copy of the book. If there is a chance that your friend wants have his work shown in LA, there are many who would work to make this happen. Thanks