Deadhead

Deadhead: (n) a person using a free pass

Just to be candid with you, when my children were growing up, I often called them “deadheads.”

It was that glassy-eyed look, which they would sport when arriving for breakfast, believing that if nothing was happening outside, then nothing need happen inside their own heads.

I taunted them about this profile because it does not disappear simply because you cease to be an adolescent.

For if you believe you’re going to respond to what is happening, but stay disconnected until you have confirmed there is activity afoot, you will not only fail to be ready for the opportunity, but will find yourself resentful that you weren’t given more time to prepare.

The secret to life is no secret.

It’s completely obvious.

The whole temperature of Planet Earth is geared to three different emotions, and our job is to know when to use them:

  1. Care
  2. Aware
  3. Dare

Often we arrive and somebody is already hurt. There’s pain in the air and suffering has made its mark. Being able to dip into a heart filled with grace and provide care is ushering heaven to Earth.

Sometimes there’s a chance to do something truly significant, but it is buried under inconvenience or arrives on a day when we have already determined that “we’re too busy.” Yet, for those who are aware and have tuned their ears, eyes and passions to possibility, these little treasures can carry us into the future and place us in great positions.

And we must realize there are occasions when fear, anger or bigotry has shut down the world around us, and it is time to step out of the box of conformity and do something unexpected—and provide immediate benefit.

Can we dare to do it?

So to avoid being a deadhead, you must travel with care, aware and dare tucked into your saddlebags, so you are ready to set up camp and start the fire.

Dare

Dare: (v) to have the boldness to try; venture; hazard

I dare you to love an asshole.

Big talker you are.  Bet’cha can’t pull it off.

You’ll peer around the room at everyone, desperately looking for confirmation that no one could get along with the asshole that is plaguing your space.

I dare you to buy a canvas and some paints and let your mind go crazy and spill something out.

Are you more scared of humiliation or stagnancy? Which one terrifies you?

I dare you to admit your faults to other people.

Do you really think they’ll move in for the kill shot? And what if they do? Will you lose something by dying honest?

I dare you to change one thing tomorrow and see if it doesn’t have at least five consecutive results.

I dare you to start using your email to encourage people instead of complaining about your circumstance to a plethora of pitiful types who only desire to complain back to you.

I dare you to demand of God that He do something rather than just seek worship.

I dare you to stop being political, and instead, become so human that you actually join the race.

I dare you to change your mind.

I dare you to listen for ten minutes to someone who disagrees with you, without interrupting.

I dare you to learn the beauty of getting alone without feeling lonely.

I dare you to find that balance between loving yourself and needing to improve something inside you.

I dare you to find a legitimate difference between men and women that hasn’t been manufactured in Congress, the pulpit or the movies.

I dare you to let people be who they are, and if you find it uncomfortable, make them comfortable by finding yourself elsewhere.

I dare you to take a week believing in God, and then I dare you to take a week denying there is one. (Then I dare you to be fair in your conclusions after the two weeks are over.)

I dare you to have an experience other than a Biblical verse.

I dare you to give a helping hand to people who are ignorant instead of stepping on their face with your new Gucci boots.

I dare you to be dared.

Yes—I dare you to be dared until your daring adventure takes you to a double dare.