Boy am I wrong (on both accounts).

For one thing, Waiariki Hot Springs and Spa isn’t all that expensive. At $155 NZ, that’s about $77 US dollars for a unique, 2-hour thermal experience. Very good value. As for the pampering thing, I am a converted man, and here’s why. I LOVE variety, and Waiariki’s “Restorative Journey (Wai Whakaora) offers variety in spades. The pampering journey starts with “Te Iringa,” the 4 waterfall showers. Each shower is a little bit different: one hot, one cool, one a stream, the other mist. As the brochure describes it: “the soft streams of water energize the body and open awareness to the present.” Pretty relaxing stuff. Next up are the saunas, three of them in total, each kept at different temperatures (and, I suppose, humidity levels). Between each sauna, we’re encouraged to walk through a cold, semi-circular wading pool. After the saunas, we’re allowed a chance to pour a bucket of cold water over our heads, which I respectfully decline, in spite of the promise of a “a symbolic connection to the ancestral lands of the Ngati Whakaue people.” Does it make me culturally insensitive if don’t like being cold?

After the saunas, we amble outside for a long, leisurely soak in the three, lovely, geothermal pools—each maintained at a different temperature (including, of course, a cold plunge). Interestingly, one of the pools is an herbal tea bath, which strikes me as a bit humorous. Chamomile and a bubble bath anyone? Our final stop is a room with heating chairs, upon which we find our own, personal bowls of brown, creamy mud to apply to our bodies. Intended merely to the dry the mud for easy pealing, the heating chairs are also deeply restful. Ahhhh. The end of the journey is the rinsing room where, miraculously, the dry mud washes right off, leaving my skin baby-bottom soft —pretty much the way I’m feeling inside as well.

Am I giving up giant monsters and NFL football any time soon? Certainly not. But I’m definitely more open to the pleasures of pampering. My body is feeling “energized,” my awareness more “open to the present”. And with the low cost of the spa, I’ve got some money left over for another round of Zorbing (see Wow Place #189). What a great day in the North Island of New Zealand.

(Parallel to the danger of high expectations is a similar peril: negative assumptions. Would I have enjoyed a few hours of freedom to catch up on some TV? Sure. Nevertheless, I’m glad I rejected my resistance to pampering and took the spa plunge. To be sure, boundaries are important in life. When you don’t want to do something, by all means say No. But if you’re on the fence about a new experience, consider saying yes. Sometimes a little mud can be cleansing.)

Created by Andrew Akers and Dwane van der Sluis back in 1994, Zorb Rotorua is the only place in New Zealand where you can experience completely bonkers sport of Zorbing. The company offers three ball-rolling tracks – two straight down the hill and one zig zag. Crazy people that we are, Donica and I opt for the VIP program – 4 runs down the mountain (2 zig zag, 2 straight), with a t-shirt included as a badge of honor at the end.

So there we are, at the top of the mountain, getting ready for our first run. To my surprise, the Zorb ball isn’t empty; there’s a small pool of water in the bottom. As we dive into the ball via a narrow, circular aperture, we land – splash – in the pool, head first. To my surprise (and relief), as the ball starts its descent down the hill, we don’t flip and tumble around as I’d feared. Instead, as the ball rolls forward, we slide ahead in the water as well, at the same pace as the Zorb. In essence, the ball is a giant water slide – albeit one where we’re constantly flipping from back to tummy and back again, rotating left and right. It’s not exactly the inside of a washing machine (thank gawd), but we’re definitely active participants in the journey. This is especially so on the zig zag course, where you climb up the wall of the ball every time it changes directions, then come plummeting back down into the pool with a shriek of laughter.

At the bottom of the hill, our Zorb slows down and comes to a stop with the help of a small reverse hill. There, an attendant tips the ball to the ground, opens up the aperture, and urges us to “Pop on out, feet first,” like fish flopping into the bottom of a rowboat. Collecting ourselves and shaking off some dizziness, we stumble over to the waiting line and get ready for our next delirious spin down the mountain.

(It’s funny, isn’t it, how great everything looks AMAZING when viewed from afar — on the internet, in a book, a magazine, or wherever. All we see are these young, healthy people having a ball – literally! In reality, though, the first time I dive into the Zorb, I get stuck in the hole and have to winch my way out for another try! Then, once inside the ball, Donica and I take turns smacking each other with errant knees and elbows. In other words, life isn’t a photo shoot with perfect, graceful models. It’s awkward. It’s clumsy. It’s uncomfortable. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try new things! It just means you have to manage your expectations – take the experience as it comes, and at the very least, appreciate the opportunity to laugh at yourself. Growth doesn’t happen in the peak moments. It happens in the valleys, the imperfections.)

Wow Place 188: Hobbiton, Matamata, New Zealand

“Where our hearts truly lie is in peace and quiet and good tilled Earth. For all Hobbits share a love of things that grow.” –Bilbo Baggins

So let’s get something straight; I know Hobbits aren’t real. My brain understands that Hobbits, elves, dwarves, wizards and orcs are all fictional characters created by JRR Tolkien in his Lord of the Rings books (and the Hobbit). So why is it that, as I walk around Sir Peter Jackson’s Hobbiton movie sets in Matamata, New Zealand, I feel certain that I’m actually IN the Shire, where Hobbits still live, breathe and eat elevenses, luncheon, afternoon tea, dinner and supper? All credit for this illusion goes to Jackson and his design crew who, in 1998, transformed the Alexander family sheep farm, about 2 hours southeast of Auckland on the North Island of New Zealand, into a strikingly realistic Middle-Earth habitat. The Alexander farm at that time had a lot going for it, Hobbit-wise: rolling green hills, no buildings, no roads, no power lines, and a magnificent pine tree up high on a hill. Over the next nine months, Jackson’s production team went at the area in earnest, creating 39 temporary, plywood Hobbit Holes scattered across a 12-acre plot. After wrapping the Lord of the Rings movies in 1999, the Shire movie sets were sadly dismantled – until, that is, Jackson returned to the farm a few years later to shoot three more Hobbit movies, rebuilding the original sets and adding another five Hobbit Holes. At “Hobbiton” today, you can find 44 Hobbit abodes, along with a mill, a lake and the Dragon’s Inn Tavern – a literal Lord of the Rings theme park.

Except it doesn’t feel like Disneyland. No one is selling elf ears or wizard-themed buckets of popcorn. I did NOT purchase the one ring to rule them all! The designers of the current Hobbiton attraction, thankfully, took a much more subtle approach when opening the movie set to the public in 2002. For one thing, the place is treated more as a tour than a free-for-all theme park. When our 8:30 am booking time arrives, my wife Donica and I are ushered from the visitor center onto a bright green bus with about 20 other people, then transported 10 minutes through gorgeous, green pasturelands to the site of the movie sets. The tours are staggered, so it’s just you and your group in each section of Hobbiton, allowing you to soak up the atmosphere without TOO many camera-snapping tourists destroying the illusion. Our guide, Tiberius (yes, named for the T. in James T. Kirk of Star Trek fame), a handsome, young Canadian lad, walks us through “the Shire,” pointing out the remarkable detail poured into the set design. For example, each Hobbit Hole houses a different craftsman and his family. So you’ll see drying fish and fishing rods outside the fisherman’s home, pies and cakes outside the baker’s abode, honey and jars in front of the beekeeper’s residence. Real fresh vegetables grow in the gardens nearby, wet clothes hang out to dry, and a maypole stands in a field, ready for festivals. Commanding the town is the towering Party Tree, just above Bilbo’s “Bag End” – an impressive pine tree that is, in fact, made of cement! According to Tiberius, Peter Jackson didn’t quite like the look of the original tree so he replaced it with a fake one. Legend has it that just days before shooting, he demanded that the leaves be repainted, one by one, because the color wasn’t quite right. Talk about attention to detail!

Although a majority of the site is authentic to the movies, one exciting new detail was added just this month (December 2023): an actual Hobbit home to go into and explore. Donica and I are among the first lucky few to wander the rooms of Samwise Gangee and his wife, Rosie – a near-perfectly-imagined Middle-earth domicile with a kitchen, storage room, bedrooms, fireplace, etc. It’s a VERY cool experience, sitting in a tiny chair in Sam’s study, imagining the daily life of a Hobbit who has (spoiler alert) journeyed to Mordor and back and lived to the tell the tale.

Our tour ends at the Dragon’s Inn, a recreated tavern that I don’t believe was in the movies but definitely looks the part. Here we’re offered a choice of a free glass of local ale or a fizzy ginger beer, along with a chance to dress up as bar maids or tavern keepers. The entire Hobbiton experience takes about 3 hours and is one of the highlights of our trip to New Zealand. Yes, I know none of it was real! But nevertheless, I felt like I went on a journey to another place, another time, where heroic Hobbits might have rested and recuperated after performing brave deeds in ancient land of fantasy.

“Even the smallest person can change the course of the future.” –Galadriel

(A wise man once said, “Happiness is having no expectations.” Although I agree with this statement, in theory, I find myself to be a creature of expectations. I can’t help it. I look forward to things and find myself frequently disappointed. Perhaps a more realistic credo to live by might be, “Happiness is expectations exceeded.” That’s how I felt about Hobbiton. Oh, I had expectations about the place – and, happily, they were exceeded. What are your expectations for the New Year? How can you make them high enough to be challenging and worthwhile, but not so high that they can’t be exceeded?)

Wham!  That’s the sound of my chest slamming into the ground at mach speed — knocking my breath out, bruising my ribs and delivering a bloody scratch to the side of my nose.  One second, I’m jogging along, enjoying the fresh air and gorgeous nature of Annadel State Park (in Santa Rosa, CA), the next I’m face down in the dirt, communing with the rocks and the squirrels, wondering if my dream of running another half-marathon is over.

And all it took was one little stumble.

Have you ever stumbled at any point in your life?   If you say you haven’t, you’re either a liar or you’re in deep denial!   😊

Stumbles happen all the time in life, don’t they?    The one I just described took place at mile 10 of a 12-mile run with my Sunday trail running group.  Basically, my foot caught a tree root and it was “Down Went Frasier”.     1-2-3, and you’re out.   It happened so suddenly I never even had time to extend my hands to soften the blow.   It was like Duane “the Rock” Johnson” power slammed me to the canvas.   Shocked and pained as I was, I realized I couldn’t just lie there on the trail, feeling sorry for myself. Bruised ribs or not, I still had 2 more miles to run before reaching the parking lot.  What else could I do but Pick myself up, Dust myself off, Quit complaining, and get back on the trail!  PDQ!

Today I’m going to share with you three of my other “life stumbles”, and how I handled them.   None of them involved the physical act of falling down, but they all left a bruise.

My first stumble occurs in 2005, just a few years after I’ve started my business – Dr. Clue, teambuilding treasure hunts.   With the business growing, I decide that it’s time to open an office and hire an assistant.     On paper, my new assistant looks too good to be true:  Glowing references, conscientious, nice as can be.  Let’s call him Trevor (because that’s his name, Trevor).  Oh, did I mention Trevor is also an embezzler!  That’s right, over the course of 3 months, he winds up stealing over $20,000 from my business.   What tips me off is that new high-end video game system that has mysteriously appeared on my credit card, not to mention the plane tickets to Hawaii. Thankfully, my insurance company reimburses me about half of the loss, but still, it’s a big hit.  Now, do I just take it lying down?  Of course not.  What else can I do but curse Trevor (under my breath), Pick myself up, Dust myself off, Quit complaining, and get back on the trail!

My second stumble occurs in 2008, at the height of the great depression of the mid-oughts.  You all remember that, don’t you?  As a result of the economic crash, my clients all of a sudden decide to eliminate all “non-essential” activities, meaning parties, travel and most especially teambuilding.   In spite of my reduced revenue, I’m determined to continue my advertising at its current rate, leading me to run up a whopping $50K debt on my line of credit.   Before I know it, I’m forced to give up my office, fire my new assistant, and move back into my home office.  Quite a come down.  Frankly, it’s another body slam!    1-2-3!     But once again, however, what else can I do except PDQ — Pick myself up, Dust myself off, Quit complaining, and get back on the trail!

My third stumble happens in 2011, when, alas, my first marriage breathes its dying breath.   Divorce is no fun, even if it’s amicable, as mine was.   Not only is it emotionally exhausting, but divorce can really hit you in the pocket book.  So, do I lie down, lick my wounds and curl up in a fetal position?  Yes, I do!  I’m only human and there are only so many stumbles a person can take!

But eventually, I do what I always do— Pick myself up, Dust myself off, Quit complaining, and get back on the trail!

Now you may be wondering, Dave, what’s your personal lesson from all of these life stumbles? I’d love to say that I learned something deep and profound from each of these experiences, but sometimes a stumble is just a stumble.   There’s no big take away.   I wish none of it had happened.   I’m not a particularly better person for surviving all these body slams.

Nevertheless, I can say this:     Stumbles are an inevitable part of life.   They WILL happen.   And although they don’t always build character, you do have to get through them!

My advice:

• Be present!
• Stay alert!
• Recognize that things will eventually change.

And most of all, everybody:  PDQ — Pick yourself up, Dust yourself off, Quit complaining, and get back on the trail!

Dave

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What have you collected in your life?

When I was a kid—I collected pretty much everything. Most of it was pretty normal: Stamps, Coins, Stickers. That kind of thing.

And then there were the “odder” items.

For example, my friend Mike and I went through a long period when we were crazy about bottle caps.  One of the prime locations to collect them was a place called “Mars”, a dirt parking lot opposite San Francisco International Airport where you could watch the planes take off and land.    All the high school kids would hang out there on a Saturday night to drink and do what big kids do…   Mike and I, however… well, we’d arrive at Mars bright and early Sunday morning in search of discarded treasure:  beer bottle caps from Greece or Scandinavia, soda caps from Canada or Brazil or even Japan. Whatever exotic (and domestic) caps we could find in the area.

Along with bottle caps, I also collected an assortment of different cards, although not of the baseball or football variety.  Oh no, I had a full set of commemorative cards from the Planet of the Apes TV series from the Seventies.  I had a collection of something called “Wacky Packages” — silly fake stickers that spoofed commercial products of the time.  I remember one, for example, that made fun of Fritos corn chips;  it was titled FREETOES and showed an orange bag filled with actual toes.  Yuck, yes, but very fun for a 10-year-old kid like me who read MAD Magazine on a regular basis.

After cards, I got into saving TV guides.  No, I didn’t keep them in mint condition; rather, I just stashed them in a drawer of my desk, all the way until I moved out of my parent’s house for college.   Even now, I imagine how fun it might be to go back and pore through my old TV Guides, reading descriptions of the Waltons, MASH, and Laugh In — all my favorite shows from the 70s and 80s.  Ah, the good old days.

Perhaps my most-prized possession from childhood, however, was my collection of firecracker labels.

To be honest, I wasn’t particularly interested in actually lighting firecrackers, not after I had one blow up in my hand.  (I didn’t lose any fingers, thankfully, but I certainly had gun powder etched into my skin for months!)   But I did like the labels firecrackers came wrapped in.   To find these labels, you had to go out early on the morning of July 5^th.    That’s when you’d find them scattered around the streets like tumble weeds, a symbol of post-Independence Day delinquency.  I have to admit that firecracker labels were pretty cool.  Not only were they colorful and fanciful like postage stamps, but there was also something illicit, even forbidden about them, with titles like:  Black cat, Superman, Gorilla, Werewolf, etc.  Finding small labels from individual packets was pretty easy, but discovering “Case Labels” was the real prize—the larger wrappers from a whole case of firecrackers.  These babies were about 5×8 inches tall and, I must say, rather gorgeous!   I’ve still got a Superman label, in fact, sitting in a frame on my desk!   The art isn’t museum worthy – it sort of looks like something printed in a Chinatown tattoo shop.   But that’s what made it cool and naughty for a 10-year-old from the suburbs.

Collecting firecracker labels wasn’t just my own private hobby, either; it was actually a big deal in my neighborhood.   Strange, sketchy kids would often ring my doorbell at all hours of the day or night, saying,  “Uh hi, is Dave there;  I hear he has some labels to trade?”  It was like Magic the Gathering, with gunpowder.  These kids weren’t necessarily my friends or my buddies…I imagine them having smudges on their foreheads and patches on their elbows, kind of like the Little Rascals.   They were definitely from the other side of the tracks.  I’d push past my mom and say, “Sure, I’m here” and then take my visitors into the garage, away from the prying eyes of my parents, to conduct our illicit trades.   Although nothing shady was going on, it kind of felt that way, which was part of the allure.    Later I learned you could mail away for “case labels” for a certain price, which I did.   But it wasn’t the same as finding firecracker labels “in the field”, or bargaining for them in a garage.

Sad to say, when I grew up, I stopped collecting things—at least of the tangible variety.  But my collecting mentality certainly continued.  You see, I’ve always loved variety and color.   I love the challenge of making a list, locating missing items, and completing a full set of something.

As I grew up, I started collecting experiences, mostly in the form of travel locations. For example,

–I collected a sunrise from the top of Mt. Fuji
–I collected a memory of standing at the base of the Great Pyramid in Cairo
–I collected a view from a Nepalese hilltop at 10,000 feet, looking across a valley at peaks that are all 20,000 feet plus.

It was a bucket list before I’d even thought about one day “kicking” the said bucket.

But was I happy?   Kind of, but not fully, either.    During that travel stage of my life, I always felt like I was running away from something.  It wasn’t until I sat down with my best college friend, Tim, that I really understood was going on.  Tim said:

“Dave, I’ve been listening to you talking about the next travel experience you want to collect, but it seems like you’re looking outward for happiness.  You can hike Macchu Picchu or go jogging on the Great Wall of China, but none of those places will make you happy.  YOU are YOU wherever you are!”

Have you ever had a friend or loved one share such a painful truth with you that you just wanted to kill them– until you realized they were right!   That’s what happened to me.   I WAS looking outside for happiness.  Perhaps I needed to start collecting myself!

What do YOU collect?    Items, people, memories, experiences?  Do they give you joy?   Are they comforting?  Do they connect you to the past, or do they just lead to FOMO (fear of missing out)?  Does collecting take you out of the present, or tie you more closely to it?

I don’t know the answer to these questions, but I think they’re questions worth asking.   Examining our collections is one step towards understanding what’s truly important to us.

Perhaps the only thing we can ever really collect (without running out) is more questions!

Love to hear your thoughts!

Dave

By Dave Blum

“Hi.   My name is Indiana Jones!”

Okay, I’m not really Indiana Jones who is, of course, a fictional character played by a real actor (Harrison Ford) in a fictional movie (Raiders of the Lost Ark).

But wouldn’t it be great to somehow be Indy for a day?  Racing giant boulders.   Facing down bad guys.   Solving clues and searching for hidden treasure.

In case there’s any doubt, Raiders of the Lost Ark is one of my all-time favorite movies, and not just because it’s a truly awesome action movie.    What I love about Raiders is that it’s also one of the greatest treasure hunt films of all time!    And I LOVE treasure hunts.

Today I’d like to share with you a few details about my life-long passion for treasure hunts…not just in movies but in the real world as well!   I’ll then share a few clues about what a treasure hunt is and isn’t, and most importantly, how you, too, can become the Indiana Jones of your own life!
But first, let’s wind back the clock a bit.   I was about 10 years old when my Dad first introduced me to the treasure hunt genre.  Night after night, I’d climb into bed, pull the covers down over my head, and read late into the night the adventures of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, Jim Hawkins on Treasure Island and Charlie Bucket searching for Willy Wonka’s Golden Tickets.  (Yes, that’s a treasure hunt story, too.)  I thrilled to movies like Romancing the Stone, It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World and the Goonies. And of course, Indiana Jones.

I lost many hours playing and solving jigsaw puzzles, board games and crossword puzzles.   I even created my own hand-drawn mazes.
In short, I became a puzzle and game geek – prerequisites for a future treasure hunter.

Fast forward now to 1995.   At a career crossroads in my life, I was casting about for a new direction in work when my friend Scott suggested, “You like treasure hunts.  Why don’t start a business doing that?”  A crazy idea, sure, but I figured “Why not?  It’s not like I have to quite my day job.”  So I ran with it, creating my first hunt event in Golden Gate Park for a bike club of which I was a member.  The hunt was a hit – I received some praise — and needless to say, I was hooked.   And why wouldn’t I be?  Here was a way to make money doing what I love to do:   traveling, writing puzzles, and having mini adventures!  What could be better than that?

But still I didn’t quit my day job…that didn’t happen for another five years, during the dot com boom.  I did, however, write a business plan back in 1995 — and Dr. Clue Treasure Hunts (my corporate team-building, treasure hunt business) was born.   To my amazement, Dr. Clue is still going strong after 26+ years.  What a crazy adventure it’s been!

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Now at this point, you’re probably wondering, “What exactly is a Treasure Hunt?  Is that the same thing as a Scavenger Hunt?” Great questions, and no, the two different kinds of hunts aren’t the same thing.

Scavenger hunts are what we did as kids, where you receive a laundry list of objects to go out and “collect”.   At the end of the day, the “hunt master” counts up all the found objects and proclaims the person with the most items the winner.

By contrast, in a treasure hunt you’re not looking for objects on a list. Instead, you’re solving cryptic clues leading to mystery locations scouted out in advance by the treasure hunt master.  In a scavenger hunt, the challenges are pretty straight forward…essentially checking things off a list.  In a treasure hunt by contrast, the clues are much more “obscured”, often obfuscated in the form of word puzzles, picture puzzles, trivia, Morse Code, Braille… the whole kitchen sink.  Most importantly, a treasure hunt is site specific. When you solve a clue, the secret message gives you directions to a specific place within the treasure hunt area.  In essence, you’re following a trail of bread crumbs from location to location, all planned and laid out by the treasure hunt master.
Within the treasure hunt model, there are two sub-types:  sequential & non-sequential.   In a sequential hunt, clue one leads to clue two, two leads to three, and so on, all the way to a final location. The first person (or team) to reach the end wins.  This is hunt model you see in pirate stories, the Amazing Race and some of the movies I mentioned earlier. In a non-sequential hunt, however, you get all the clues up front; each clue stands alone and is worth points, based on difficulty. Clues can be solved in any order that you like, and the person or team with the highest score wins.  This type of hunt offers the advantage that people don’t just follow each other.  Moreover, if you get stuck on a clue, you can skip it and move on to another one, coming back to the stumpers when you have time.

As a personal preference, in books and movies I prefer sequential hunts.  I particularly enjoy watching movie and TV characters competing (and conflicting) in an environment of scarce resources and even scarcer information!  When I RUN a treasure hunt, however, I prefer the non-sequential treasure hunt model.  I find it offers a bit less conflict, a bit less scarcity, a bit less cut-throat competition.  Not every treasure hunter would agree with me, but hey – I’m running a team-building not a team-destructing company. 😊
Treasure hunts are certainly a fun, even thrilling recreation.  But I believe there’s much more to the model than that.
In my opinion, treasure hunting is a way of being, a way of looking at the world, a way of life.

• With a treasure hunt mindset, you see life as an adventure, with new mysteries around every turn.

• With a treasure hunt mindset, you view the challenges that life throws at you as clues to be solved.   After all, there is always a solution to every puzzle lie throws at you, if you just apply concentrated thinking (and a pinch of elbow grease).

• With a treasure hunt mindset, you embrace the idea that any quest that you can do alone is more fun if you do it together with a team!

Contrary to the archetype of the lonely adventurer, defying all odds on a solitary journey, treasure hunters are rarely lone wolves!  Even a curmudgeon like Indiana Jones needed to put together a team to find the Lost Ark.  By taking care of others and nurturing teamwork, Indy I believe became a better person.  In short, he got a clue about leadership!
Imagine how your life might change if you treated every day of your life as a thrilling treasure hunt!  Imagine the fun you could have!
I once taught a group of eighth graders in San Francisco’s Tenderloin district how to create a treasure hunt in their neighborhood.   At a certain point, I asked the class how they might use treasure hunts in their daily life.   A hand shot up in the air; it was Shelley, an African-American girl of 11, her hair in tight braids, with the most angelic face you’ve ever seen.

“Yes Shelley. What would you do?”
“I’d hide my parents’ cell phones and make them do a treasure hunt to find them”
“Well, that sounds interesting.”
“And they’d have to pay me for each clue!”

Now that’s entrepreneurship at its finest!
I believe that you, too, can lead a life of mystery and excitement — and you don’t have to go to India or Egypt (or the Tenderloin) to do it.
All you need is an adventurous attitude — a mindset that proclaims, “I’m up for whatever puzzles life tosses my way, and with the right people around me, the treasure will be found!”

Get a clue my friends!  And don’t forget your whip and your fedora.

–Dave

What is it about trust that is so hard to gain and so easy to lose?

It’s 1971 and my Mom is tucking me into bed. I’m wearing my Speed Racer pajamas, my childhood afro spilling out over my pillow.  I’ve got my favorite stuffed animal, Tigery, tucked under my arm—pretty CUTE huh?   My Mom leans in close and whispers in my ear the words I will remember for the rest of my life:  “Never trust anyone who says “Trust Me.”

Who says that to an 8-year-old kid?!!  The world is unsafe!  It’s full of con men!  Don’t trust anyone!  It’s like Mom wanted me to spend thousands of dollars on therapy when I grew up. She was right of course, as moms always are. You certainly can’t just trust everyone who tells you to trust them.

Perhaps a more important question than “Who should you trust?” is “How can YOU earn the trust of others?”  And not in some manipulative, snake-oily, salesman kind of way. How can YOU be honestly worthy of trust?

I believe there are 3 key trust behaviors that will make you a more authentic, more trustworthy person, not to mention a better leader.   These 3 trust factors form the acronym C-U-T:  CUT, as in “Cut the bull”.

1) The first key trust factor is C — Competence.

Competence means you can do what you say you can do, at a high standard.  I struggle with this one because, frankly, I’m pretty lazy. It takes a lot of time and energy to become competent at something.  Malcolm Gladwell famously said you need 10,000 hours to become truly proficient at a desired task.  10,000 hours!  That’s precious time I could be spending on the couch, eating kale chips and binge-watching Game of Thrones.

Not only is it hard to be competent, it’s doubly difficult if you have a good angel and a bad angel living on your shoulders, as I do, battling it out for your morality.

A couple of months ago, for example, I’m due to give a speech and to be honest, I’m feeling pretty darn unmotivated.  My good angel, Gladys, prim and proper like Mary Poppins on my right shoulder, is saying “Come on Dave—stop being such a lazy bones.  You have a reputation to uphold. Bring it!”

Meanwhile, my bad angel, Boris, super cool in a leather jacket and dark aviator glasses, is saying, “Don’t listen to her.  You’ve had a really busy week.  Just phone this speech in.  Make it up as you go along. No one will notice.”

What do you think? Did I listen to Boris or Gladys?

Sad to say, I mostly listened to Boris that day; he was very convincing!  Although I didn’t completely phone my speech—Gladys wouldn’t allow that— deep down, I knew I could’ve done better.

How’s your trust in me now?

2) The second key trust factor is U — Utter Reliability.

Reliability means you do what you say you’re going to do.  You’re trustworthy.  You’re worthy-of-trust.   It means you meet your commitments and keep your promises.

A few years back, my friend Steve invites me to a party and asks me to write some riddles and word puzzles—something I’m pretty good at as a “treasure master”.   Flattered, I agree —and then…the regret start kicking in.   “Puzzle writing takes forever!  It would be soooo easy to just blow this off, stay at home, and spend some time with my friends Danaerys and John Snow.”

Boris, of course, is on me like gravy on mashed potatoes.

“This is California, Dude.  All promises are meant to be broken. Who really wants to do puzzles at a party anyway?  Skip it!”

Gladys, feisty as ever, counters with a one-two punch:

“You have to write these puzzles, Dave.  Steve is counting on you!  The whole party is counting on you!  You made a promise!”

Once again I’m torn—which angel should I listen to?  What do you think?   Was Bad Boris the winner, or Good Gladys?

In this case, I listened to Gladys. 😊 I come through for Steve, showing up to the party (early!) and sharing the puzzles I wrote.  Success! Whew!

How’s your trust in me now?

3) The third key trust factor is T—Total Caring.

Total Caring means that you have other peoples’ interests in mind when making decisions or taking action.  It means you listen to people and look at things from their perspective. Total caring is the most important trust factor for building long-lasting relationships. Even if you’re incompetent…even if you’re unreliable…even if you drop the ball on occasion…people will still trust you if they sense that you really care about them.

It’s 1975. Lunchtime at Taylor Junior High.  I’m 12 years old and for the first time, I’ve been invited to sit with the popular kids. (Well, semi-popular).  As I’m sipping my chocolate milk, a disabled girl, Molly, limps in on forearm crutches.   About half way through the dining hall, Molly slips —and falls.  The contents of her lunch tray go flying all over the place:  milk, string beans, tater tots.   In a flash, my two shoulder angels are lobbing arguments at me like hand grenades  <boom><boom>!

Gladys: “Get up!  Help the poor girl!  Have a heart!”

Boris: “Stay where you are.   You’re with the cool kids now.  Don’t blow your rep!”

So what do I?   Do I lend Molly a hand, or do I keep sitting there, coolly, doing nothing?

I look around…I start to get up… and I sit back down!

Gladys shakes her head sadly as Boris cackles with glee.

Not my best moment! ☹   (I blame my unformed cerebral cortex!)

How’s your trust in me now?

It’s difficult being a trustworthy person, isn’t it?   It’s so hard to be consistent! Luckily there is one extra trust factor I have yet to mention.  That last trust factor is Extreme Transparency.   Transparency means you share your feelings and emotions.   You fess up to your imperfections. You allow yourself to be vulnerable.

I’ve shared three stories with you today, all a little embarrassing for me.  I told them because I want to be transparent and vulnerable with you.   It has not been easy.  I’d have much preferred standing up here like the Wizard of Oz, keeping my true self behind the curtain while I blustered about my all-mighty powers.  But that’s not how trust works.  If you want to be trustworthy, you can’t be a poker player, keeping your cards close to the vest.  You can’t hide behind a front of pretense. You have to be real; you have to be honest. You have to take chances—both regularly and often.

So let’s review. Trust =

C—Competence

U—Utter Reliability

T—Total Caring

and

E—Extreme Transparency

Pretty C-U-T-E, huh?

Keep these 4 tips in mind and you’ll be well on your way to becoming a “trustworthy” person.

And you can trust me on that!

–Dave

A wise man once told me, “You are you wherever you go.”    Little did I know how true that might be — until disaster struck.

It’s 2001, a warm muggy day in southwest Costa Rica.  My travel partner, Donna, and I have just finished our walking tour of the Corcovado rain forest with our nature guide, Maria, and our boat pilot, Luis.   Shortly after pushing off from the beach and beginning our return to our tent cabin resort, the fuel line of our glorified row boat pops out of the motor and we’re forced to stop while Luis fixes it.  Suddenly I hear a roaring sound from the direction of the beach, and WHAM, it happens!    A much larger tourist boat, perhaps three times our size, slams into our vessel with brutal force, launching up and over us!

Maria and Luis see it coming and jump out of the boat just in time.   Donna manages to duck down – and me, well, I’m completely oblivious until the prow of the bigger craft crashes into my lower back and throws me violently forward to the floor of our boat.

My first thought is “What the heck just happened?”   My second thought is, “Oh my god, I’ve just taken a direct hit to my spine.  I could be paralyzed.  Can I move my arms and legs?”

Miraculously, none of us are seriously injured.   Luis is completely untouched.  Maria has a slight leg contusion.   Donna has a black eye and a small cut on the top of her head.   Myself, well — I don’t appear to be paralyzed, but my back is burning with pain and I’m afraid to move.
By way of apology, the larger boat pilot promptly tows us to the nearest resort, where the staff nurse checks us all out.  As she’s bandaged up, Donna flashes me a big grin and says, “We are so lucky!   That could have been so much worse.  Gee, I wonder if I can get a margarita.  Shall I order you one too?”

“Are you crazy!   I’m hurt here.   I might have injured my spine, or my kidneys. I might still be paralyzed.   I do NOT want a margarita!

The irony is, if I was in Donna’s shoes, with just a few cuts and bruises, I would be doing exactly what she’s doing – cracking jokes and jollying the situation.

You see, when I’m feeling safe and secure, that’s exactly who I am–the “jolly-er”.   Like Donna, I have what’s called an “initiating” communication style.   That means I’m wired to be sociable, energetic, spontaneous and fun loving.   I’m fast-paced and impulsive.   I value interacting with others and sharing stories – like I’m doing right now.  I’m motivated by relationships and prefer a stimulating, personal and friendly environment.
But my personality style has a darker side as well, that emerges when I’m under duress—like say, during a boating accident in a third-world country!  Under extreme duress, I express myself in any one of three typical reactions, namely :  1) getting short-tempered and judgmental.   2) over worrying.  3)  withdrawing from people.

Back at our tent cabin later that day, my condition gradually becomes clear.   Thankfully, I appear to have no more than a deep, back bruise, about the size of a ripe papaya.   Yes, it hurts to move, it hurts to lie down, it hurts to get up and use the restroom. But it definitely could have been worse.  Nevertheless, I’m angry—angry at the other boat pilot for not seeing us.  Angry at Maria and Luis for abandoning ship!  Angry at myself for being so oblivious.  At the same time, I’m filled with worry.   It’s taking a long time to get better. Maybe I did really hurt myself.   Maybe I should cut my trip short and go home.

And I also withdraw:

“Dave, can I get you anything?  Some food?  A margarita?”
“No thanks, Donna. I just want to be alone!”

Little by little, over time, my back does get better.   My trip in Costa Rica continues.   I watch in amazement as Mount Arenal erupts at night.  I swim in a hot spring river.  I zip line over a jungle canopy, surrounded by the cries of howler monkeys.

The positive traits of my initiating communication style return as well.    I rediscover my sociable nature.  I rediscover my lost sense of humor.
“You are you wherever you go”.

Whether in exotic Costa Rica or right here at home, your personality follows you, so you might as well get to know who you are (in all situations, good and bad) and be ready for it.

Can I have my margarita now??!
———————————————————————————–

Notes:  What’s your communication style, particularly under pressure?    How do you “act out” in the heat of the moment?  Do you know your “stress traits” and have you communicated them to your friends, co-workers and loved ones?   And most importantly, what are you doing to mitigate those patterns?    After all, just because we have “inclinations” towards different personality styles and behaviors, that doesn’t mean we’re fixed in stone.  A mindfulness practice, for example, can go a long way towards putting a buffer between your thoughts and your habitual reactions.  As an exercise, the next time you’re feel stressed out, write down what you’re thinking and feeling.  Note how you would “act out” if you just let yourself go?   The more self-knowledge you acquire, the more self-control you acquire.

As Sun Tzu wrote:  “If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. … If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.”
–Dave

“Gre—at.  You must be Mike.”

“That’s me!”

At 6 foot 5, 250 pounds, his shaven head as shiny as a mirror, Mike Franklin is a man who commands attention. He’s the kind of guy I might not want to meet in a dark alley –except for that friendly, beaming smile of his that sets me at ease.  I like Mike immediately. Matched up thanks to the San Francisco City Library’s “Project Read” adult-literacy program, Mike and I would get together at my place every Tuesday afternoon from 3-5 pm for the next two years.  During this time, I taught him about words, language and grammar.  He taught me about life.  It was a good trade off.

Although both in our late 30’s at the time, Mike and I had followed radically different paths in our lives. Growing up in the white, middle-class suburbs of Millbrae, California, 20 miles south of San Francisco, I attended a well-known college, earned a degree in literature, and even taught English in Japan for a while. By contrast, Mike — an African-American male from the mean streets of San Francisco – had barely graduated from high school.  After bopping around from job to job, he finally settled down as a furniture mover.   Happily married, a home owner with two lovely daughters, Mike had done well for himself — in spite of the fact that he couldn’t, in fact, read. After denying his condition for years, Mike had finally swallowed his pride and joined the Project Read program, hoping it might help him get ahead at work (and in life).

During our first few months together, Mike and I reviewed phonics.  We read stories together.  We did writing projects. But Mike’s progress was slow.   For some reason, the words in our book kept moving around on page like squirming, wiggly worms.  As you might have guessed, Mike was dyslexic, a condition that sadly I knew virtually nothing about.

My salvation came in the form of a little paperback called “The Gift of Dyslexia” by Ronald Davis. It suggested that dyslexics have very special minds that view things essentially in 3D.   It’s as if their brains are operating tiny helicopters, circling around their field of vision, taking rapid-fire photographs of whatever they’re focusing on. According to Davis, this unusual characteristic of mind can be an absolute gift, especially for artists, mechanics and yes, movers. But not, alas, for someone trying to read & write.   Davis recommended a variety of special techniques for dyslexic readers, including among other things, sculpting words out of clay to render them 3-D and thus easier to comprehend.

Thanks to the book and Mike’s hard work, we started to make progress.

Reading, however, was only half of our relationship.   If I was the “teacher” for the first hour of our sessions, it was Mike who taught me in the second half.  During this time, we would just talk — about life, love, current events, philosophy.   Mike is truly an old soul, with wisdom radiating out of him.  I may have known a lot about how to read and write, but Mike clearly knew how to live. Some examples:

–“So Mike, what’s the secret of a long, happy marriage like yours?”

“Dave, you think I always like my wife, June?  Heck, we fight all the time.   But every Friday, I bring her flowers.   I don’t always like June, but I always love her.”

–“So Mike, it sounds like you have a complex relationship with your sister, Doreen.”

“Ah, she’s all right, although she does complain sometimes.   One day, I just got sick of it. I told her, “Doreen, don’t ask any questions, just get in the truck with me.”   I take her out to Hunter’s Point, the worst neighborhood in the City, and point at a family living in a cardboard house. “Doreen, those people got something to complain about. Not you!”

—————————————————-

After two years of working together, Mike’s reading was really coming along. In fact, his supervisor was telling him how impressed he was with Mike’s latest work reports.  He was even up for a promotion!   And then, suddenly, Mike stopped showing up for our sessions. I didn’t see or hear from him for several weeks. What had I done?  Did I say something to offend him?

Finally, Mike called me up on the phone:

“Dave, I want to take you out the House of Prime Rib.”

“Uh, sure Mike.”

We had a nice steak dinner that night — we talked about our lives.  We shook hands and wished each other well. It was a good time.   I never saw Mike again after that.

“What, he left without even saying thank you!  How ungrateful” you might think.

That’s not the way I look at it.   Mike wasn’t a gushy guy.  That final dinner was Mike’s typical, low-key way of saying, “Let’s not make a big deal about this.  We both got what we needed. We both enjoyed ourselves. It was a fair exchange. Time to move on.”

I do miss Mike. I hope he’s doing well.  I have no doubt that he is.

Mike was my mentor.   Even if he wasn’t 6 foot 5, I’ll always look up to him.

Who has been YOUR unofficial mentor?   Who have YOU helped out, only to discover that you received as much or more in the exchange?

–Dave Blum

P.S. For more evidence about the benefit of giving, check out this TED talk by my friend, Cathy Armillas.