Category: motivation

Realizing a Life Well-Lived (from the Ejection Seat)

Valerie Ormond ready to fly off the USS Abraham Lincoln (CVN-72),in the ES-3A , Indian Ocean, 1995

I looked out the window and knew if I died that day, I still lived a full life.

It surprised me how calm that thought made me – almost peaceful.

After grasping the severity of the situation, my body and brain filled with warm thoughts, and I understood how blessed my short life had been compared with the longer lives of so many others.

I had no regrets.

When assigned as an intelligence officer to a naval aviation squadron, I had the opportunity to earn my passenger flight qualifications. That meant if I needed to, I could fly in the back seat of our squadron’s jets.

I attended naval aviation physiology training and didn’t drown, so several months later I found myself launched off the USS Abraham Lincoln aircraft carrier in the Indian Ocean experiencing a triple flight emergency.

With my limited aviation knowledge, I knew from the visible and audible signs that things weren’t looking up.

“Skids…we’re going to have to bring you in very straight and slow…did you hear me? Veeerrryyy straight and slow,” cracked the voice from the ship. I knew this stoic speaker and never heard this voice.

“Roger, Boss,” replied the pilot. No quiver in the voice, but pure tension.

The naval flight officer turned to me, and his voice reverberated in my helmet communication system.

“You remember the ejection sequence, right?”

I tried to say yes, but fortunately nodded instead conveying the same. While I didn’t have a great technical understanding of our squadron’s ES-3A aircraft, I remembered the low odds of surviving an ejection in this aircraft on the approach to an aircraft carrier.

But as I looked out the window again, listening to the nervous chatter on the box, I knew if I survived I would have a totally different perspective on life.

I thought about all the things that had been bothering me and stressing me out and realized their trivial nature. I gained a fast sense of prioritization and a deep appreciation of the important aspects of life.

It took ten minutes to sort out a lifetime of experiences and learning.

Following a harrowing carrier landing, I took a deep breath, enjoyed life, and recognized my good fortune of having the chance to appreciate this new outlook.

Once I gained an understanding of my well-lived life, I saw every additional day as a bonus, and a day to make a difference and make it count.

This post originally appeared in writer Jeff Goins’ blog  “Wrecked – When a Broken World Slams into Your Comfortable Life.”

The Power of Writing Prompts

I love writing prompts because they both force me and free me to create stories or poems I may not have otherwise considered. The “freewriting” nature of most prompt exercises tames my inner editor. I’m also usually thinking no one will ever read what I’m writing, so I stretch my writing muscle and imagination. Due to the short timeframe for most writing prompt requirements, I usually look back at the rough draft of the finished product and consider the outcome as time well spent.

Ten years ago, I participated in about a fun contest at Writing.com. The 15 for 15 Contest challenged writers to respond to writing prompts (photos) for 15 straight days writing for no more than 15 minutes each day. Per Writing.com:

This contest is for writers
who may only have a little
time on their hands
but a lot of creative ideas
bubbling around in their heads.

 All you will need is 15 minutes a day for 15 days

I highly recommend these types of activities and contests for writers because it forces pen to paper or fingers to keyboard. Below is an example of one of those writing prompt responses that I would have never just sat down and wrote. It ended up being a runner-up in that day’s contest! Responding to prompts makes writers think beyond what they may normally write without judging themselves (as much).

Planets

“I love you to Pluto and back!” Jason said lovingly, while on one knee grinning ear to ear and looking into Natalie’s eyes.

“It’s to the Moon and back, goofball.”

“No, it’s not. Pluto is far further than the Moon, and I love you more than the simple distance to the Moon.”

Natalie couldn’t help but love this man. The past nine months she’d learned more about love than she had in the thirty years before. Jason, unafraid of his feelings, and unafraid of commitment and attachment. She’d never met anyone like him.

“Where are you?’ he asked, sensing she had wandered off to another place, which she seemed to do quite often.

“I’m right here, my love, just lost in thoughts. I haven’t gone anywhere; I’m still with you.”

“Good, because I was thinking we should go grab a blanket and sit outside in this crisp air and stargaze for a while. Then I can show you how far Pluto is, so you’ll see how much I love you.”

Natalie cooed, “I can’t think of a better way to spend our nine-month anniversary.”

“Nine months? I thought it was nine days?” Jason smiled again, gazing at her mouth this time, and seemed expectant of an answer.

“Nine months, nine days – who’s counting? I’ll get the blanket and lead the way to the best spot on the hill.”

As they settled in together lying on their backs, bodies warm, close, and sharing heartbeats, he whispered in her ear, “Please tell me what you see.”

“I see the man I want to spend the rest of my life with, Jason.”

“I meant what do you see in the sky. But I do like your answer better.”

On the nine-month anniversary since their first date, Jason committed to marry Natalie and take care of her for the rest of her life. And Natalie committed to loving a man forever who had no sight, but a heart that was out of this world.

—

Unfortunately, Writing.com no longer runs the 15 for 15 contest, but for anyone interested, here is Writing.com’s prompts link: Writing Prompts, Creative Writing Prompts, Prompts for Writers – Writing.Com. Set your timer for 15 minutes a day for 15 straight days and surprise yourself. If anyone has writing prompt thoughts or suggestions, please leave a comment!

The Man – or Woman – in the Arena

Motivational speaker and business leader Mary Kelly asked, “What is the best coaching advice you remember? In sports, business, life?”

I answered, “My Navy dad used to remind me of ‘The Man in the Arena’ quote. In other words, it’s easy for others to criticize when they are not in the thick of it. It has always stuck with me.”

Earlier in the week, I had also referred to this same quote by former U.S. President Theodore Roosevelt in response to a different question.

Then last night, looking through some old memorabilia, I came across a piece of paper my father sent me when I was stationed in Korea in the late 1980’s. It said:

It is not the critic that counts, not the man who points how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the Arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deed; who knows the great devotion; who spends himself in a worthy cause, who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at worst, if he fails while daring greatly, knows that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.

His handwriting below the quote said, “This is a quote from Teddy Roosevelt. Fawn Hall told Congress they should read it.”

I figured there had to be a reason this quote appeared three times in one week. Was I needing a reminder? Was it a post-Father’s Day thought? Something else?

My cousin told me family research revealed our great-grandfather was one of Teddy Roosevelt’s Sergeant Majors with the Rough Riders. Maybe that explains it.

Whatever the reason, I felt compelled to share the sentiment of “The Man in the Arena” with others. If you have something to add to the conversation, please do!

My Rock from Bali

Today I feature a guest post from my brother, Eddy Ormond, from his recent trip to Indonesia. Eddy assisted me in writing my two books, and I’ve been encouraging him to write for the past few years. And he’s doing it! I hope you enjoy his story, and his storytelling ability. (Note: I posted this to my http://BelievingInHorses.com/blog, but the Comments feature is broken there, so re-posting here.)

My Rock from Bali

By Edward Ormond

One time I thought I was going to die was when I was bodysurfing in Bali. The water looked calm enough with just a few small breaking waves, so with each wave I tried to ride, I swam out further to find a wave with more power. Soon I was further out than I had planned.

Before starting out, the Balinese man who rented lounge chairs to us crossed his arms and pointed to two red flags in the water indicating I should not swim between them. I understood that. So, I left my non-swimming Chinese friend to lounge beneath the umbrella as I set out to swim near a man who was teaching his daughter how to surf. I figured if I stayed near them, I was safe.

Soon, I began to tire, as the current was really very strong. I dug my toes into the sand as I realized I had drifted dangerously close to the red flag area. I did not know what was in there – coral reefs, rocks or a rip tide, but I was struggling to swim in the opposite direction to get away from it. Soon, the water was above my head and my toes left the ground as I battled to swim against the current and away from the flags. I looked for my surfing buddies, but they were gone. I was alone.

I waved to my friend on the shore. He waved back. I remembered he couldn’t swim, so I waved again just to alarm him of my peril. He nonchalantly waved back again. I panicked. Didn’t he see I needed help? I weakly raised my arm and made a beckoning motion to tell him to come closer. He simply waved back again. NO! “Come closer,” I signaled again. Now I just needed the moral support as I might be going under the third time. He waved again! This time it might be goodbye.

I looked around and saw no lifeguard chairs, no one nearby, nor any sign of rescue. I saw only one choice. I had to risk the dangers that lurk between the red flags and let the current push me into the red zone and hopefully ashore. I relaxed into a dead-man float and indeed, the current brought me to where I could put my feet safely on the sand and tiredly walk ashore.

I dragged myself to the lounge chair and plopped down. “Didn’t you see me drowning out there?” I questioned my Chinese friend.

In a “Confucius say” way he answered calmly, “One should never go swimming alone.” Drat! He was right. I had been so carried away by being on the foreign beach that I neglected some basic safety rules. Not to mention, he could not swim! I tried to release my pent up feelings by silently chanting “xiqi (shee-chee), huqi (who-chee) ” or “inhale, exhale” in Chinese, while concentrating on a man nearby who was sweeping the beach clean of all debris, including shells and pebbles.

Sand was weighing down my shorts so I stopped my meditation, got “back on the horse” and went into the water again to rinse myself. I had wanted to pick up a shell for my friend, Linda, but as I mentioned they swept the beaches there to keep them pristine. Then it happened. A fist-sized rock rolled over my foot with the incoming wave. Tickling my ankle, it tumbled backwards with the undertow – my undertow. I had to have it! I scurried after it and quickly grabbed my prize. Holding it down to my side, I promptly brought my secret prize to the chairs and showed it to my scowling friend who asked, “Why do you do such a thing?”

“This is my rock from Bali!” I cried. “Whenever things get bad, I will look at this rock and remember life could have been worse because I could have drowned here today. And when I worry about things too much, it will remind me to drop the rock, so, like today I will not drown.”

Thank you, Eddy, for sharing your true story, and please keep writing!


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